A Terrible Bit of Bad Luck

As Stan Stanleyson lay bleeding to death on the floor of his local shop, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief. He'd been involved in an altercation with another man, who'd turned out to be a little on the angry side, over the last remaining packet of Fruit Pastilles. It appeared that they were both rather fond of Fruit Pastilles, but the other man was clearly a little fonder of them than Stan, and he'd pulled out a large kitchen knife and stabbed his rival in the chest to emphasize the point.

Now Stan lay there awaiting death and/or an ambulance, quite contented, with a smile on his face. He'd never really been any good at life. In all honesty, he'd found walking about, sitting down and all the rest of it a real struggle and this would be an excellent excuse not to have to bother with any of it ever again. Besides, he had been a firm believer in reincarnation for as long as he could remember and was looking forward to returning as someone or something with a little more energy and enthusiasm.

The ambulance eventually arrived, but death had arrived before it, and although the paramedics did their utmost to resuscitate Stan, it was impossible, not least because of his unwillingness to be resuscitated. He was happily on his way to the next life.

You can imagine Stan's disappointment then upon realizing that reincarnation was a falsehood, and that he would in fact just have to lie there dead for the rest of his days. When this had finally established itself as reality in his mind, he regretted his over-exuberant passion for Fruit Pastilles, and he also realized that he had very happy memories of walking about, sitting down and all the rest of it, and felt an unbearable longing for these things.

'What a terrible bit of bad luck,' he thought.