Buried Alive? Positivity is probably the key.
For the third time in only a matter of hours, Eugene awoke inside a coffin. The unconsciousness had slowly faded and he had regained his awareness of the situation which he found himself in. And, in finding himself in that situation, he felt perplexed. He had grown to realise that his intention to punch a hole in the coffin had been futile, and, at the risk of being considered foolish, decided not to continue to pursue that option.
Thinking of pursuits, the thought immediately grabbed him: his imagination pictured Batman pursuing evil through Eugene’s own city; tracking down perpetrators of violence and injustice and making them pay! Whoever it was that had placed Eugene in this… situation; he was sure that they were getting their – and the thought was censored. Eugene became agitated, as he held a belief in overcoming evil with positive thoughts.
It was then that he was struck with his next idea: he would think his way out of this coffin. He had constantly been told about the power of positivity, and this was his chance to put such a thesis into practice in a very practical way. Eugene began with a relaxation exercise, tightening his fingers and his toes and releasing them. He did this a number of times, again noting the softness of the polyester that he was brushing against and then he was ready to begin: “This is such a lovely coffin”, “I will be rescued”, “It will all be OK”.
Eugene waited in silence.
Nothing happened, silence remained.
Eugene continued to find himself feeling perplexed, and he was beginning to think quite negatively about his positivity. But, never one to dwell on misfortune, Eugene decided to recite selected verses of the Romantic poets. He very much enjoyed Lord Byron, and, thinking about his scandalous frivolities made the iambic pentameter of ‘She Walks in Beauty’ dance like Wordsworth’s ‘Daffodils’. Eugene continued by emphasising the trochees and iambs and spondees and anapests and dactyls. Of course, he joked to himself, he would not stress the pyrrhics! (English nerds, I hope you liked that joke).
And then, Eugene felt like he was having a most curious experience, as he imagined an audience and he heard them audibly laughing! (English nerds, how do you like that metatextual play?) Eugene started to panic, as he came to an immediate conclusion his oxygen must be running low and this was starting to cause his own cognitive functions to malfunction! Then he felt himself bordering on delirium as the laughter rose to a crescendo, before falling once more. Eugene took a moment, and readied himself to speak. He had certainly not imagined the afterlife would feel quite so dark, and then it occurred to him. He did not pay the ferryman - where might he have ended up?
Eugene, in a timid voice which he projected loudly to offer a false sense of confidence, “Who’s there?”
And the lingering laughter stopped, and Eugene exclaimed, “I can see the light!” as it began to pour into his coffin. He felt a sense of relief that his death had been relatively painless and he had ended up in the right place post-life. However, the man he imagined guarding the pearly gates was in fact, a woman.
A woman with wide hips and a coloured brunette perm. A woman with wide hips and a coloured brunette perm who was now towering over Eugene, as she was pushing back a coffin lid and demanding he get out. She grew fierce and demanded to know what Eugene was doing. The woman’s eyes did not often flash with anger, instead, she understood flashes of empathy was better for business – but, she continued to berate Eugene, ‘What are you doing in my coffin shop? How dare you-‘ but then Eugene cut her off. ‘Marlene’s Coffin Parlour?’ To which, the wide hipped woman nodded. Eugene was beginning to understand, he had somehow ended up sleeping overnight in the woman’s shop. If only he had just firmly pushed the coffin lid, he could have been freed from the tyranny of captivity long ago!
And then it occurred to him; he felt great. He’d had his best night’s rest in many years, and he found himself taking his wallet from his backpack and insisting on having the coffin delivered to his home that afternoon. He would immediately replace his old mattress, despite it's posturepedic qualities. It seemed to Eugene, the real mystery in this whole debacle, was not so much how he had ended up in a coffin, but how come he’d never found such a comfortable sleep before now?
