Read Online Dead Men Scare Me Stupid by John Swartzwelder - Free Book Online

me.”
    “It is.”
    “Maybe you should
show me a schematic drawing of the machine and tell me how it works. You could
describe the physics involved and we could look over the blueprints while we
eat lunch. Then tomorrow, after we’ve had breakfast, and finished our jogging…”
    He shook his
head. “There’s no time for all that, I’m afraid. I’m already behind schedule. Ready?”
    “I guess,” I
said, in that childish tone I have when I don’t get what I want.
    He twisted a dial
on the machine.
    I began seeing my
life flashing before my eyes, backwards, with each event slowly fading away, as
if it had been exposed to too much sun. There went 2007 down the drain, then
2006. There went my detective career that had never really gotten off the
ground. And the three years I spent carrying cement blocks. And my six years of
high school. As each memory disappeared I felt my brain growing emptier, more
echo-y, and happier. It felt good not having those experiences anymore. Plus,
my mind could yodel now.
    The procedure was
fairly painless, except for all the electricity coursing through me, and all
the loud horns blaring in my ears. And I’m not sure what the chisels were
digging at me for, but they sure hurt. Maybe that’s what they were for.
    I felt my
fingerprints melt away and my wallet get thinner, as my driver’s license and
other identity papers disappeared. Finally, I felt my birthmark fade away. The
process was complete. I had never been born.
    Conklin unhooked
me from the machine.
    “That didn’t
hurt, did it?”
    “Well, not too
much. My rear end is burnt black though. Will that clear up after awhile?”
    Conklin frowned
and moved off to talk to the technicians who had helped wire me up. “No, I’ve
never heard of it either,” said one of them. Then they turned back to me with
reassuring smiles. “It will clear up in a couple of weeks,” said Conklin.
    Despite
everything I’d been told about the Clarence machine, and the things I’d seen
flashing before my eyes, I didn’t really believe I had never been born. I
didn’t feel any different. And I didn’t look any different, except for all the
burn marks, the corncob pipe, and the different shirt.
    “Your machine’s a
bust, Conklin,” I said, twirling my handlebar mustache. “Nothing has changed.”
    “Oh no?”
    He took me over
to the window. We watched 2000 men from a troopship trot by in front of the
facility.
    “Hey, I thought
the men from that troopship were dead!” I said.
    “None of the men
on that troopship died, because you weren’t there to get them killed.”
    I stared at him
in horror. Quickly, I checked to see if the black eyes I usually have were
still there. They weren’t. My nose wasn’t bent in all four directions either.
It was like my face had never been punched at all. Then I knew it was true. I
had never been born. This was like some kind of Capraesque nightmare!
    I was taken down
to a lower level and shoved into a cell. Conklin said they couldn’t let me go,
because I knew too much.
    “Oh, come on!” I
scoffed. “I don’t know anything. Everybody knows that.”
    “You know about
Clarence,” Conklin reminded me, “and the machine that makes evil men short, and
a number of other things we’d rather not have blabbed all over town at the
moment. Or ever. So I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us. It will be a long
one.”
    “Well, I’m sure I
will enjoy my stay, enormously, but…”
    “The guards will
push a piece of meat through your bars once a day.”
    My cell door
clanged shut, and Conklin walked off.
    I wondered when
the meat was coming. It sounded pretty good.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    I was locked in
my cell pretty much 24 hours a day for the next couple of weeks. I complained
about that, but they asked me where I would keep a prisoner if I had one, and I
had to admit I guessed I’d keep him in a cell. And I’d probably leave him in
there most of the time. Just like they were doing to me. So I quit