I don't know 'bout y'all, but my first thought was that this old dude was probably crazy as hell.
"Stop spoutin' all that nonsense. Hurry up and call 911, or the city hall, or whatever. This shit looks like a goddamn septic tank," I said.
The old man glanced at me, then pretty much ignored me.
I noticed he was bending down, reachin' his hand into the thick, knee-deep goo, searchin' for somethin' down there.
That's when I realized my own legs were submerged in the same gross, yellow-brown slime. The stench was comin' from it.
Now, I ain't got much education, and I ain't read many books, but come on, what else in this world looks like this besides shit? The color, the smell—I reckon it's a mix of droppings from at least a dozen large animals...
Meanwhile, I looked around and saw that pretty much everyone else was doin' the same thing. Some were squatting, feelin' around with their arms, their eyes almost touchin' the surface of the crap. Others were feelin' the walls—which were also covered in the thick stuff.
I felt a wave of dizziness and the nausea hit me like a ton of bricks. I started dry heaving again. Damn, even a tough guy like me was close to cryin' at that moment. I forced myself to stay calm: Hart, hold on, you got thrown into a septic tank by that damn cigarette.
I struggled to move my legs and made my way towards the old man. I tried my best to fight the discomfort in my body and mind, and asked in a breathy voice, "Look, even if it's just to be nice, we don't know each other, but you could at least make a phone call, right? This game's gotta be over, and if we're throwin' a party, we should find a better spot."
The old man gave me a dirty look. "You throwin' a party in a place like this? Call it the 'Sour Carnival'?"
"What the hell are you talkin' about? Old man, do I look like I'm messin' around with you?"
"Until you get the situation straight, I'd advise you to keep your mouth shut. I'm tryin' to help you out."
"Alright, alright, old man... No, comrade, I apologize. Young folks don't always have a filter. I'm really about to lose it here. Tell me where the ladder is to get out of here. I think I'm in the wrong place."
The old man chuckled. "Young black man, you sure are funny."
I was gettin' pissed, truly pissed.
There's nothin' I hate more than people messin' around with me when I'm bein' serious. It's a huge disrespect.
"Enough!" I shouted.
Everyone around heard my roar, but a few seconds later, everything went back to normal, like nothin' happened.
I was so damn frustrated!
The old man glared at me and quickly covered my mouth with his hand.
"What are you hollerin' about! If the Apostles hear you, you're done for!"
At that moment, I felt like the sky was fallin' down.
I pushed the old man's stinky hand away and frantically wiped the shit off my face.
"What the hell are you doin'!" I really wanted to strangle that old bastard.
The old man glanced up, then whispered to me, "Let me tell you, the Apostles are watchin' from above. I'm advisin' you not to cause trouble. Don't you see everyone around here is busy? Do you know why they're quiet? If everyone acted like you, hollerin' and shoutin', we'd all be done for! You get it?"
I looked up like he did, but all I saw was darkness. I didn't even know where the light in this place was comin' from...
"What are these Apostles?" I asked.
"In short, they're the bosses or controllers of this level," the old man replied.
I really didn't wanna waste any more time talkin' to him.
From my perspective, anyone causin' trouble in a place like this is either crazy or a pervert. This old man looked a bit like a pervert to me.
"Alright, alright, old man, even if I'm beggin' you, look at my pitiful state. I gotta get to my aunt's house for fried chicken tonight. If I'm late, there won't be any left—those kids in my family have big appetites. Just do me a favor and tell me where the exit is. I'll leave quietly on my own and won't be any trouble. I know there are all kinds of weird interests in this world. To each their own, I respect that. This kind of bizarre activity might have some value, but it's just not for me," I said.
The old man looked at me, his eyes filled with a complicated expression. "Young man, do you still not understand your situation? You're dead. Dead, you get it? There are many ways people talk about death—kicked the bucket, passed away, bit the dust, bought the farm. The point is, you're gone."
I stared at him with wide eyes.
"Are you serious? What do you mean I'm dead! If I'm dead, then who's talkin' to you!"
The old man glanced at me again. "Still don't believe it? Let me ask you, how did you get here? Do you remember where you were before?"
I tried my best to remember, and my last memory was that damn cigarette. Yeah, it seemed to explode, and at that moment, my head felt like it was splitting apart.
Am I really dead? Could it be true?
I touched my head, relieved to find it intact. But the memory of that explosion was still fresh. Yeah, I remember people screaming around me, some running away, and others recording me on their phones...
I remembered that excruciating pain; it was worse than death.
Could it be that I really am dead!
The old man looked at me and said, "Remembered now?"
My face was full of doubt, and I didn't answer him right away.
The old man continued, "It's nothing unusual. Everyone here has lost their lives for various reasons. You can ask them if you don't believe me."
I felt scared, and goosebumps started to rise on my skin.
"I was the same way when I first got here. After a while, you get used to it," the old man swallowed. "Judging by your looks, you were either in Ukraine or Somalia. But I think the Caucasus region isn't too welcoming to black folks."
I felt uncomfortable and wanted to sit down for a bit. As I was about to plop down, I saw the thick 'stuff' below and immediately straightened up again.
"Are you sure you're not messin' with me? 'Cause this ain't funny."
"Why would I joke with you?" the old man said. "You ain't my kin. Besides, have you ever seen a place this outrageous in the world?"
A few seconds later, I finally began to accept the fact that I was indeed dead.