The Life And Death Of Immortality

Kevin Pea was a bachelor, an unmarried one at that. He didn't own a cat or a dog, or any animal at all, except for a spider that lived in his bathtub. But that didn't really count because that wasn't really his.

Anyway, let's just say Kevin Pea was all alone in this massive expansion of time and space and things floating about bumping into other floating about things. And at 56 years of age Kevin was pretty fed up with it all, which is pretty ironic really because in 5 sentences flat Kevin Pea would be dead.

He would be killed by the hero of this story, Eric Butt, an out of tune busker who had just stumbled on the cure for death. Or more importantly he had just stumbled on the secret of eternal life.

'Get out of my way-old man!' Fumed Eric, knocking a complete stranger into the middle of the road and straight into the path of an oncoming bus in his haste to get back home.

Once there, Eric whipped off his flat cap and peered into it.

'One, one pence piece. One cigarette end...' he said, counting off the entire contents of his days takings. And then he saw it.

'You little beauty,' said Eric aloud, his eyes goggling upon a small round jar and at a mystic inscription written on it which said:

THIS BOTTLE CONTAINS THE SECRET OF ETERNAL LIFE.

DRINK WISELY... LIVE LONG... AND PROSPER.

And that's just what Eric intended to do.

He fished the bottle out of his cap and held it up in front of his face, admiring it as though it was a picture of his dear old dead Granny. His favourite one of her sitting in a bath full of soap suds and holding aloft a rubber duck. A toothless grin spread right across her leatherette face.

'I'm going to drink the lot in one go and live twice as long as forever!' Eric had decided right then and there. And with that he twisted the lid of the bottle to open it.

Nothing.

He tried again, this time with a little more force.

Nothing.

'Ah - ha!' He said, suddenly realising what he had to do. 'It's one of those childproof tops. The kind you have to press down and then twist.'

 And so, Eric pressed down on the bottle top and twisted.

Nothing.

He pressed down on it again and twisted the other way.

Nothing.

'God almighty!' He shouted at the bottle. 'I'm going to open you up even if it kills me!'

And then he had another idea. Maybe if he went out to the shops and got one of those special bottle openers old people use to open their jars of semolina and old folk food, that would definitely work.

Eric hurried out to the shop and bought one. Then he hurried back home again to try it out. He placed the special opener on the lid and then twisted and prized for all he was worth.

Nothing.

'F**k it!' He said, throwing the bottle down angrily and then throwing himself back against the chair. 'F**k it! F**k it! F**k it! And F**K the person that gave it to me!'

All at once a loud ping! went off inside his head. 'That's it!' Said Eric, leaping to his feet triumphantly. 'The guy who gave it to me in the first place. He'll know how to open it!'

There were only 3 people who had approached him that day:

#1. A deaf tramp who gave him his only penny to stop playing.

#2. Blind Albert, the deaf tramps friend. He didn't so much give him the cigarette end. It was more like a flick at rather than a give to gesture.

#3. A mysterious bearded Indian fellow, dressed in a white robe and white sandals. He actually commented on how badly he played the guitar and said that it would take him several lifetimes to correct it before...before...

'It was him!' Announced Eric to himself. 'That weird and wonderful beardy fellow. It was definitely him!' Eric quickly grabbed hold of a pen and a piece of paper and drew up a plan of action:

Plan Of Action:

#1. Go to the same spot everyday and busk your socks off until you come across Mr. Weirdo with the white robe and white sandals.

The next day Eric awoke at the crack of dawn.

CRACK!

'Blimey!' He yawned, jumping out of bed. 'I'd better get ready for my plan of action. And in one hour flat Eric had washed himself, dressed himself and made sure his guitar was suitably un-tuned before hurrying off to do his daily busking.

7 or maybe 8 hours later, Eric was back home. 'F**k it! F**k it! F**k it!' He fumed. 'That god damn weirdo never showed. I'll just have to go back tomorrow.' And so he did. And he went back the day after that, and the day after that...until, on the 7th day a strange bearded Indian  man suddenly appeared right in front of him.

'Are you enjoying the fruits of eternal salvation, my friend?' He asked, mysteriously.

'No I bloody well am not!' Shouted Eric, stopping his guitar in mid twang. 'For one thing I can't get the bloody lid open!'

All at once the mysterious bearded Indian man began to chuckle to himself. 'Oh deary deary me,' he said. 'Oh deary deary deary deary deary me!'

'Never mind oh deary me!' Scolded Eric, bashing his guitar against the wall in frustration and sending the grim faced shoppers into a unison of applause. 'What about deary old me!'

'Mmmm...' said the wise old Indian man, frowning deeply in thought. And then he spoke. 'The secret word you need to open the bottle is the same name as a green wegetable.'

'What!' Shouted Eric, hardly daring to believe his ears. 'What's a god damn Wegetable when it's at home?'

'Aaaaahhhhhh...' said the wise old Indian man, gazing mysteriously into Eric's eyes as if he were trying to hypnotise him. 'Think about it.'

'I will!' Huffed Eric, a little miffed by the old man's words. 'And you can think about this!' He lifted the remnants of his guitar above his head and brought it crashing down on top of the poor old Indian, knocking his beard clean off his face. 'You're not so strange and mysterious now are you- old man!' Added Eric, striding over the unconscious mystic and hurrying off towards the bus stop.

But that's as far as Eric got, because he never actually made it to the bus stop. He never actually made it across the road, either. Well, not all the way across. You see, Eric, at that exact moment in time, was so consumed and blinded by the mysterious old man's words that he didn't see the hearse coming towards him.

The last thing that Eric saw as he bounced off the bonnet and somersaulted through the air, was 3 letters made entirely out of flowers. These were leant up against the side of the coffin in the back of the hearse as it passed him.

'Pea!' Shouted Eric, which also happened to be the last thing he said too, before his head smashed against the tarmac, spilling his thoughts all over the road.

Also, in that exact split second, a bottle filled with the secret of eternal life flipped out of Eric's pocket, the lid twisting open and landing in the shopping bag of Brenda Bagnose. A 22 year old single mother of none and recent lottery winner. Brenda, who had been looking the other way when the incident happened simply carried on shopping, unaware of the long and rich life she had in front of her.