Part 1: Shock-book excerpt

Well, I listened to my wife. After all, I've been doing it for nearly forty years, I should now have stopped? Boy is she to feel guilty.

So there I was standing on the corner of Fifty-seventh Street and Park Avenue, minding my own business waiting for the light to change. My mission was to buy blue shirts, Jane insisted that I buy more blue shirts, they bring the color of my eyes, they said, they give me a little color. My luck, it was a sale at a fancy store on Fifty-seventh, go there, she said. So I was waiting on the corner, loaded on my left a great looking woman in her fifties, a real type of Manhattan, Dolled, jewelry, great body, great legs. On my right, a handsome young man wearing a sports shirt and the tightest jeans I have ever seen, I noticed the lady looked at him approvingly. I was not notice them. At sixty-four, I am much more age appropriate for them than he is, but, hey, is free to search, let her look. And that was my last released on Earth thought, because that's when I get the car straight for us, right notes on the sidewalk. An old man sat down at the wheel collapsed, with closed eyes. His face was the last one I ever saw in my life.

And now look, emergency team arrives, I can see everything down there on the corner. They are looked at me and the others, we are there, are all wrong, and for the first time now I see an old black lady on the floor behind me. I had to scream it, which belongs to a cry, but I had not seen them. After some time, says the crew are all dead. What a waste, this lousy t-shirts, I could have lived without them. And I finally booked their travel to Paris for Jane's birthday, I never wanted to, but Jane has. Twice before, we had planned on them and canceled and now this. Three strikes and you're out. So I've never seen Paris, poor Jane will never have to go alone, they must go without Chanel me.

She did not know about me yet, it takes time to identify them myself first, then they have to reach them. And I never thought of it on the new stock account at Merrill Lynch, I say open, but that's all right, they will receive the monthly statement, she'll take with Bobby show, he will find out. He is my son, he does not burn, he find it more than seven hundred thousand dollars in it, I do not know how I forgot to tell her.

God, I wanted to see the child, Bobby's first-born by reason in three months. This is unfair, where is the justice in this? My first grandchild, I do not even know if it's a boy or a girl. Bobby knows but he did not say he wanted to surprise us. If it's a boy, maybe they'll name it after me, though, who knows what will his wife. Maybe my name is not fancy enough for her, no one is using Irving, I bet they will not do it. They are a little I use, or perhaps Ian Ivor, and I will be happy if they do. You know what, I'm dead, how can I offended, what's the problem?

I'm feeling really relaxed a lot when you consider what I have just been through. My mind seems clear, but my emotions feel compelled to distance a bit. It's my blood on the street, there is the poor stretched imagination lady next to me still clutching her big pink purse, and that young guy, he tried to escape difficult, I could hear him moaning, grunting with the effort. And the black lady, her gray hair disorder. What a way to go, so spiritless, so publicly, over and park on the corner of Fifty-seventh, milling and showed people said. No decency, no dignity. The police arrive, they will chase away the crowd, then they meet us, enough is enough.

It is strange, floating away. I read a few times about people who died and then again, they had the feeling of floating, she saw generally a light, a tunnel of light. Well, I'm floating, but I see no light, but. And I do not feel my body, my shoulder is not as it still hurts, and my knee is killing me. I've just been hit by a car and I feel no pain. So that's it, nothing, just my mind working, but very little in the way of emotions, that's it? They live for 64 years, you go through plenty, and then was it? Some old guy you walk over and the story is over. All the planning, the worry, all the work and then Jane sent me for shirts and that's it. For blue shirts, I had blue, there was Jane. The color blue has killed me if I would be better in white shirts I've lived looked like. I needed those damn blue shirts, thank you, Jane.

Now I see some light, rays of light. I think I pull up, the scene below is further away, I am moved, in any case. And I am not alone, there are other faces to move towards me. This is definitely the face of the old man behind the wheel, that the last face I saw before the crash's. And there are the women and the poor boy can not over 29, thirty, he looks scared. We seem to still our body and yet I think ethereal, cloudy, useless, but nice, snug, safe. And now we are all floating together, no significant tangible expressions on the faces, I can see, expressions benign. And a deep silence, silence deeper than any I can remember, a relaxing silence, silence. And then the light again, we are bathed in light.

Some time goes by, that's okay for me. No sense of urgency to take care of any dates. Only silence and light. Not bad, maybe it is, perhaps, is eternity, asphyxia, silence.

Oh, no, come on. Cut it out. Come on, no angel, looks like an old man with wings floating toward us, wrapped a cloud such as leaf, looks like my mother's Uncle Benny, but with wings. This is a dream, it must be a dream. I wake up too early, I'll be in my bed, it will be five or six clock in the morning and I have to pee. Jane is asleep next to me. I bet it was that I ate corned beef last night, that can digest at my age? There can be no angel, angels are mythological figures, the pathetic performances of primitive man. I did not believe in angels since I was eight or nine years old. Come on, wake up, enough already.

The putative drift angel in brush against my face, soft, not Fe, is among us, filling the room with a glowing light.

"Welcome," he says. "I am the angel Malakh. I am asked to assist you in the transition between life and afterlife and all questions you may have about the process to answer. Please do not be worried, this process is a gentle and bright, and the fact that I have been assigned to you should calm as I am trained to only normal souls. Those who are at the extreme ends of the moral spectrum of specialized angel, even the souls that are crazy, the processed hung those nuts. I have only the normal grip, so by definition you are on the right track already, you are, where to land the most souls. Because of the enormous burden soul, to which we are subject, I am also to deaths in limited Manhattan and people who believe or claim to the faithful, at least theoretically, in a personal God. If you do not like a believer, are perfectly fine, but I can not handle it your pass case and On a fair angel. I would be grateful if you will respond and confirm some basic facts. It is possible to speak to you all and I will do to you each call. Let's start with you, Caldman begin "as he turns to me.

"They do not dream, Mr. Irving F. Caldman, sir. You have your earthly body scales, with an illusory facsimile left it and are now in transition. You will not wake up, you will not return to your previous existence. They are now in the early form of afterlife. Please confirm that you have the soul, I believe, the husband of Jane Rosen Caldman, father of Robert Z. Caldman, president of the Caldman and Company, an investment. You were firm an active board member of several philanthropic organizations, living on Fifth Avenue in New York and Horsebone Road in Bedford, New York Religion: Jewish .. Is that right?

I nod in agreement. For the first time I feel emotionally shattered, I feel a shiver of icy fear, almost a refreshing feeling, an echo of the emotions I'm used to experience. I am really dead, this is really happening to me, I'm not waking up from this.

The angel turns the elegant lady. It has its pros accident recovered appearance, her blond hair is carefully, she wears an expensive suit, heavy jewelry, and she is again clutching a big pink alligator purse. It shall be in her fifties, is a killer for her age. "You are Clarissa Bowen was married twice, currently to Andrew Bowen, mother of Twinky, occupation. Personal Shopper, located on the East eighty-fourth Street, Manhattan, you are a member of the Junior League and the Botanical Society actively religion .. : Presbyterian.

"Correct," replied the woman, her voice cultured and dignified, their way ready.

"Brett Taylor," goes the angel, "not married, not married, occupation: interior designer, residing on East Twentieth Street Religion: Roman Catholic .."

This is the boy, bigger than me, a big, powerful kid. Looks like a weightlifter, handsome face, dark hair, a refined expression, all-American type.

"Yes," the man says, "I am a good Catholic. I've just last Sunday communion."

"Excellent," says Malakh and turns to the black woman. "Essie Mae Rowden, widow, mother of Charles and William Rowden, grandmother of three children, occupation: Domestic, based on Bergen Street, Brooklyn Religion: Evangelical Christian .."

Copyright © 2007 Harry I. friend

The above is an excerpt from the book I have never seen Paris

by Harry I. friend

Published by Carroll & Graf Publishers, August 2007; 0.00 EUR; 978-0-7867-2054-5

Copyright © 2007 Harry I. friend

Author

Harry I. Friend is a prominent businessman, active in philanthropic work. His debut novel, instant noodles, was published by Carroll & Graf 2005th He lives in New York City and Connecticut.

Visit www.harryfreund.com.

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