20160808

Day 826

The worst thing about the Dead is that the majority of them don't know they are dead to begin with. They will spend years wondering why everyone is so sad to see them, completely forgetting how or when the passed away in favour of coming back and being an absolute nuisance.

Take, for instance, a small bar by the name of "The Rusty Buckle", informally known as Rusty's Place. Crammed between an alley and a convenience store, its patrons were all local people from the nearby houses. Emphasising the "were" as a fire on New Year's Eve ended their lives quite dramatically. Liquor is far too flammable and when spilled over most surfaces, all it can take it one single dropped cigarette to send an entire building up in flames.

Of course this is going on thirty years ago and now the only signs that a fire had ever taken place is the smoky haze that lingers around the ceiling. This is known as the bar is still open and, while it doesn't serve physical drinks, it serves the experience of dining with the Dead.

Apparently this isn't common.

Every person in the bar who is holding a drink is unknowingly Dead and no matter who shows or tells them otherwise they refuse to move on. They're simply too busy having fun and drinking away the rest of time until they feel like doing something else. If anyone in the bar does move on it's cause for celebration all around and then they are immediately purged from the patron's collective memory so that they can continue to drink and laugh until they move on. And so it cycles around.

One of these days Rusty's Place might close for good but until then, pull up a chair and talk to the Dead.

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