The screen door creaked open as I stepped outside. My cousin sat on the porch in the camping chair we had got from Goodwill when we first moved in to the apartment we shared. It was early morning and I had just gotten home from a night out. I had fixed myself a sandwich and taken a shower, like I usually do before bed, and I was about to go have a smoke and tell my cousin all about my night. 

He had already lit a cigarette and was staring off into the inching morning daylight, not quite seeming himself. 

“Hey cuz, what’s up, how as your night?”

He ignored me. 

“Did you finally hook up with that girl?”

No reply.

“Hey! You good man? What’d you take at that party?”

I waved my hand in front of his face. 

He ignored me still. 

Figuring he would snap out of it, I lit up a cig of my own and sat there silently.  He finally looked over in my direction, without looking me in the eyes. 

“Cousin, you died. You’re dead.. You were in a car accident on the way home.”

As soon as the words left his lips, I realized what was going on. Why he couldn’t see me, why I was on my second cigarette and yet still couldn’t quite taste it. It all came rushing back to me. The headlights coming towards me, the smell of burnt rubber, the asphalt against me skin. I felt like I had been punched in the face. My ears were ringing and my peripheral vision began to blur. The last sound I heard before my vision was obscured by a smokey fog, was every last dog in the neighborhood- all howling at once. 

Through the fog, I could make out a figure. Broad, with slumped shoulders, but still a stance that would suggest no one-or anything-could knock him down. It was a particular mix of self-doubt and bravado, a gait that I had long forgotten, but wouldn’t fail to recognize, even if a hundred years had passed. 

It was my Uncle Lewis. God damn, Uncle was right there. I stood, frozen. How could this be happening?

“Nephew! Welcome! Jeez, you were just a little guy last time I saw you! Damn, that must have been, what, a few years ago now? Just look at my handsome nephew!” 

He ruffled my hair and wrapped me up in a big hug. A few years? I don’t think I saw Uncle since grade school. His memory was never the best. But, as an alcoholic with a gambling problem- what can you expect?

Despite his shortcomings, I was happy to see a familiar face. 

He began walking at a quick pace, motioning me to follow him. I went along with him up the street as my vision began to clear, trying to keep up with his hurried pace. Trying to figure out where I was, I scanned every sign on the way there for a familiar word or phrase. To my dismay, they were all in what looked like gibberish. 

Finally, we made our way to a bus stop littered with cigarette butts. The sky was grey and there was a light drizzle- you know, when the sky just sort of spits on you instead of properly raining? 

“Late, as usual.” My Uncle said with a sigh.

Finally, a bus pulled up. Uncle told me it was my stop, and I was to get on it. Not knowing what else to do, I nodded, and when the doors swung open, stepped on. 

Looking back at the stop, my uncle was gone. 

In a panic, I realized I had no cash. I had no idea where I was, no cash, and the only person I knew since my cousin told me I was dead- had vanished. 

Standing in the aisle, I looked at the bus driver, and before I could open my mouth to explain myself, he said with a smile- 

“Joke?”

“What?” I said hoarsely.

“Tell me joke! Or are you trying to get on this bus for free?”

Nothing has made sense so far, so why shouldn’t a joke get you a bus ride?

I thought of the first one I could. Something about a chameleon having reptile dysfunction…

The driver let out a satisfied chuckle and, with the bus lurching forward, I staggered my way onto an empty seat. 

Not even 30 seconds went by, and the bus halted to a stop. The driver made eye contact with me through the mirror at the front of the bus and informed me that this was my stop.