Now for something completely different! Joe has a car accident and wakes up to be told he's dead, by two dope smoking beings. The experience is nothing like he was expecting. Where was the light that people spoke about? Where was the tunnel? Why was he none the wiser? He expected to get some answers or perhaps a clue to the meaning of life. There was no enlightenment or epiphany. Instead he's processed and given a house, the house of his dreams, and told he has to share it with the woman he killed in the accident. He then discovers that anything goes, except violence or doing harm to others. The rules are simple. Naturally his doubts creep in. None of this could be real, could it? The drinking and smoking and being constantly propositioned by beautiful people could only be a fantasy, created by his mind to keep him occupied while he recovers in a coma from the accident. Even though his senses tell him otherwise and nothing feels like any dream he's had before. Joe decides there's only one way to be sure. He defines his own litmus test. He would have to find his wife. How hard could it be?
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