Bad Things to Bad People

Why do these things keep happening to me? What did I ever do, aside from the three felonies, habitual drinking to excess, and occasional drug binge. I’m not a bad person.
On second thought, I am, but I was raised that way. Now where’s the door.
“Excuse me.” Sheesh, why did I just say excuse me to a dead guy? He doesn’t care. Oh sure, people always prattle on and on about respecting the dead, but that doesn’t mean I have to mind my P’s and Q’s. I just need out of this room.
Here’s the door, but why is the darn thing locked? Who would lock me in a room full of dead people? That’s just sick and twisted, and I should know. I have three diagnoses. Maybe this guy has the key. No point asking, I might as well search.
“Pardon me.” I have got to stop saying that! People will think I’m crazy or something. Yes, a key! Maybe things will turn around now. Yeah, I can feel it. The key even works in the door.
Sheesh, it’s bright out here and noisy too. Where am I? And why am I naked?

View this story's 4 comments.