Pissville

He sat her down in the front room, in his favorite chair, right next to the radio. He loved the radio. He turned it on and let it warm up. The golden glow of the dial highlighted the "CROSLEY" on the face. "Just have a seat" he called over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen, "I'll fix us a drink". He came back with a couple of rum and cokes with a little ice. "Go ahead and tune something in if you don't like dance music". The sounds of big band filled the air as he left the room
He headed into the guest room. There was a low iron framed bed with a good firm mattress on it. He started making the bed quickly, tucked in the flannel sheets from the closet and did the hospital corners. The final touch was a grey blanket he put on army style, tight enough to bounce a quarter. He centered the pillow in a snowy white case. Just right.
"Ok, come on back. I think there's some good clothes for you here in the closet".
She stepped in through the doorway. "Whoa, what's with the prison bunk?.
He felt like an ass. "Uh, that's how I make a bed. "
She was starting to take on all the fine attributes of a pain in the ass, and so soon.
The clothes were much better. He wasn't much of a judge of these things, but she seemed pleased and a little amused. She picked out a nice yellow knee-length dress with little green vines and red flowers. "Top of the line vintage, really cute. "
"I'll let you get changed. I'm gonna change too....in my room.." feeling more like a jack ass by the minute, he went and put on some slacks and a t-shirt. Then he sat in the living room and listened to Louis Armstrong and sipped his drink. One of the good things about the afterlife was that you never got drunk. You enjoyed your drink. You tasted it and breathed in the essence of everything that went into it. You felt a bit mellow, but it never got to the knee walking,blind roaring drunk. The same thing with food. You didn't have to eat though. A lot of people didn't eat at all. Mike ate the occasional things like pop tarts, but he was never one to revel in the sensual aspects of food. It was more of a habit. Of course in the old style afterlife, like in Roman town, or valhalla, there was a lot of feasting, but there were no outhouses. Go figure.
She walked in to the room. She had found some high heeled shoes and had taken the time to put her hair up. Mike looked up from the floor. She looked like an illustration from the Saturday Evening Post. "You look..it looks really good"
"Thank you,but we are going shopping tomorrow...how does that work? Do I have to borrow money from you, because I'm already staying here I'm not just freeloading if I can help it....."
"Maggie, you won't need money, this isn't hell, ok?and I'm not looking to...just stay with me and we'll get you settled and I'll show you the ropes.
They listened to the radio for a while and then the first part of mystery theater came on. Now it was Maggie's turn to feel like an ass.
"Mike, do you have a T.V.?"
She said T.V. slowly and distinctly like he might not know what television was..
"You mean one of them there Farnsworth devices?..Them picture eyeboxes?"
"Dude, yeah..." She blushed a little.
" Yeah, I got a T.V. but the guys upstairs borrowed it last week. They wanted to get all the t.v.'s the could get their hands on. I'll go get it..you're right, this kinda sucks.

He went upstairs and knocked on the door. It was unusually quiet this evening. Johnny Motor opened the door. He smiled when he saw Mike, a pall mall was hanging out of the corner of his cupidinous lips. Fronds from his greasy jet black pompadour were just so dangling in front of his eyes. Johnny Motor was a handsome motherfucker. They all were.
"Mike, I bet I know why you're here. Come on back" He followed Johnny back into the huge living room/recording studio/art gallery that he and the other guys lounged around in.
He handed Mike a good sized, sleek flat screen tv.
"What the...where's my RCA?"
"Sorry, man. couldn't be saved. Hans over here perforated it with his shootin' iron"
Hans looked up mournfully from his Louis Lamour paperback. "I'm really sorry, Mike. It was a accident...." He frowned and shrugged.
Johnny continued, " Hey, if it's any consolation, we're using some of the tubes on our super amp...and it's Hans' t.v.. don't forget the remote." He tossed the equally sleek remote to him and Mike almost dropped the screen trying to catch it.. Georgie and Otto were in the corner soldering electronics in a giant armoire. They looked like twins, immensely tall, cadaverously thin twins with long hair. The only way he could tell them apart was that Georgie always wore converse sneakers, Chuck Taylors, and Otto always wore boots. They waved at him. "Sorry, Mike" they said almost in unison. Otto returned to jamming a fork somewhere in the guts of the superamp eliciting sparks, smoke and noise.
Johnny walked him to the door. "Those boys set their mind to it, they just won't turn it loose."
Mike returned gingerly lugging the new tv. He set it on top of the little table in the corner, plugged it in, and tossed her the remote.
"Try it"
She did. In the afterlife, you could watch hundreds of channels. The Albanian Shopping network was on. What the hell was Hans watching that for?
She clicked through until she found "Welcome back Kotter". They sat watching, silently, like any new roomates, satisfied with their surroundings, each not wanting to bother the other.
Finally, it was time to go to their own rooms. Maggie lay curled up in her dress, not wanting to disturb the blanket beneath her. She felt like she must be dreaming still. She thought about Mike and how she had a million questions for him.
Mike thought about the following day, and smelled the cinnamon on his fingers in complete wonderment wth the feeling that something huge might happen.