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‘This is your idea of a good time, Dave?’
The purple corpse’s eyes were shining. It was hard to believe no blood was being pumped into them. They were dewy, shinier than the stars above. Not that the bar was too high in that regard. Jack looked up. The stars were barely there: light pollution was the unsurprising ruler of the sky in Vegas. But his eyes reflected the Vegas lights. And it was ridiculous. He was dead. His eyes definitely should not be shiny.
Dave had a smile on his face. He watched a drunk couple stumble and fall as they walked down a nearby miasmic alley. The purple former employee chuckled. A black trash bag served as a cushion, and they laughed. Dave took a sip of his drink, still smiling.
‘Is this my idea of a good time, you ask? Of course, old sport.’ Dave’s heavily accented voice brought Jack back from his musings about light pollution and eyeballs. ‘What else could you want?’
They both flinched as they heard a police siren not too far off. They looked at each other, eyes brimming with recent memories. Jack could tell Dave was trying not to laugh at them, and he pursed his dead lips.
‘Did you really have to do that?’
Dave shrugged.
‘Look, the man was being an asshole.’ Dave clicked his tongue. ‘Not my fault his big mouth couldn’t fit those chips: I was convinced I could’ve fit the entire table with the way he was speaking. West Virginians.’
Jack shook his head in disbelief.
They had just narrowly avoided being arrested after nearly killing a middle-aged white man. Now, they were drinking sugar-free Pepsi on the last floor of a building that might as well have been abandoned.
‘Fucking real estate companies with their gentrification. No one’s coming here, old sport, I can assure you. Now, come on, I think we can fit through this vent…’
And so they had crawled up the ventilation and sat at the edge of the ten story building.
‘I need something with sugar. Not this Diet Coke nonsense.’
‘It’s fucking Pepsi. Sugar free. But still Pepsi.’
‘Well, it’s too sweet. Uh. Ironically enough.’
Jack raised an eyebrow.
‘I know we’re corpses and all’, Dave began, ‘but this is healthier.’
‘Just say it’s the first thing you found in the dumpster.’
Dave made an annoyed sound but shrugged. Jack sighed and blinked against the nightly desert breeze. He gave Dave a side eye. Perhaps he’d been a bit too harsh.
‘I do like the views, though,’ Jack offered, as an olive branch. ‘Vegas is pretty.’
‘See, I told you! Vegas, baby!’ Dave cheered, right fist raised up to the sky.
Jack let out a huff but smiled gently at the purple man beside him.
‘I didn’t think you’d do it,’ Dave muttered, quiet all of a sudden.
‘What?’
Dave scratched his neck.
‘The…stuff…with the children.’
Dave coughed. Jack blinked a couple times at that. The purple man was hiding a creeping smile.
‘’Stuff’? Really, Dave? Was that- was that a fucking pun?’
Dave raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, all while a horrifying grin broke out.
‘What can I say? I love puns.’
Jack raised a hand, as if he were going to push him off the roof. Dave instinctively took hold of the edge with both hands. The orange man shook his head disapprovingly.
‘That was terrible.’
Dave hummed.
‘I’m proud of it. The pun, I mean. Not the other thing. Deep down, I’m not proud of that one.’
Jack stared at Dave for a moment, then wet his lips before speaking.
‘At first, I found it difficult to understand how I was able to do it. But then I understood. No younger siblings, as far as I know, and a lack of happy memories as a child. Can’t empathise with kids because I barely remember being one, and I rarely interact with them.’
Dave took a sip, the can bending in his grip. Jack took his time before continuing.
‘I didn’t see them as kids. They weren’t alive, to me. They were mere objects. It’s deeply fucked up but, yes. And I was tired of everything. I fucking hated my job and my life.’ The orange man looked down, shaking his head.
‘And now?’ Dave’s eyes searched his face for an answer.
‘Ha-ah. I’m not ready for that conversation.’
‘Guess I’ll have to listen to you while you sleep to find out.’
‘While I sleep-what?’ Jack put his can aside. ‘What the fuck…’
The orange employee placed a hand on his own sweaty neck. Deeply unsettled, he ran a hand a hand through the back of his head.
‘I can’t believe you’ve broken into my house several times…’, he paused. ‘I should…file a restraining order.’
The comment was admittedly harsh, but there was no force to it. Jack rolled his eyes as Dave scoffed.
‘Yeah, right. As if. You’re not exactly in the position to ask the law to protect you, are you?’
Jack gave him another side eye.
‘Well, plus nothing has happened to you! You’re unharmed. Means I’m safe, doesn’t it?’
‘That’s not how it works,’ Jack replied, his tone chiding.
‘That’s exactly how it works, old sport.’
They looked at the city lights for a few seconds. Enjoying the relative silence: cars hummed and tyres squeaked. A man screamed and shouted, from a far distance. Neither of them cared.
‘Hold on. Did you say ‘listen’? Do I talk in my sleep?’
Dave scratched his head. It messed up his already tragic hair.
‘You do, Old Sport.’
‘No one has ever mentioned that, it must be a new thing…what did I say?’, he asked, posing the inevitable question.
Dave shrugged.
‘Unbelievable. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll get it out of you. The point is, I’m sure you can also extract some reason out of this situation. I’m not saying you can justify it, but it is something.’
‘I don’t want to. My actions are mine and mine only. Not a product of the past.’
Jack furrowed his eyebrows minutely. He then looked at the lights down below.
‘I guess that makes sense.’
They both took a sip at the same time.
‘You said you wanted to braid my hair.’
‘Huh?’
‘In your sleep. It was one of the things you said.’
Jack shook his head, not believing what the purple corpse was saying.
‘Okay, and?’
‘Don’t you want to? Now?’
‘I said that in my sleep. My dreams make no sense, why would whatever I say in them be any different?’
‘Is that a no? Aw man.’
Jack turned to fully face him.
‘Well…’, the orange undead man began.
Dave’s face brightened. Jack shook his head.
‘Alright, fine. I’ll braid your hair, why not?’