Selected ​Stories 1 csillagozás

Spoof Collins blew his brains out, all right--right on out through the top of his head. But I don't mean with a gun. I mean with a horn. Every night: slow and easy, eight to one. And that's how he died. Climbing, with that horn, climbing up high. For what? „ Hey, man, Spoof--listen, you picked the tree, now come on down! ” But he couldn't come down, he didn't know how. He just kept climbing, higher and higher. And then he fell. Or jumped. Anyhow, that's the way he died.
The bullet didn't kill anything. I'm talking about the one that tore up the top of his mouth. It didn't kill anything that wasn't dead already. Spoof just put in an extra note, that's all.

Black Country (első bekezdés)

„Now then,” said the psychiatrist, looking up from his note pad, „when did you first discover that you were dead?”
„Not dead,” said the pale man in the dark suit. „Undead.”
„I'm sorry.”
„Just try to keep it straight. If I were dead, I'd be in great shape. That's the trouble, though. I can't die.”
„Why not?”
„Because I'm not alive.”

Blood Brother