The Dead Celebrity Cafe

Yes, he'd been drinking. Yes, it was St. Patrick's Day. Still, he'd never been so drunk that his vision blurred the way it had that afternoon. All he could tell was that the flashing neon sign above the pub's door was red and that it had three words in it. Beyond that everything melded together. He had expected the phenomenon to continue when he went inside. Instead, his vision cleared with crystal clarity. Part of him wished it hadn't, because there was no believing what he saw.

Bogart was the first one that caught his eye. He stood at the end of the bar in his trademark white tuxedo jacket, sipping scotch and smoking a cigarette. In fact, the bar seemed to be full of smoke though the tell-tale odor and staleness of air was conspicuously absent. At first he thought someone was pranking him, though the man's resemblance to Humphrey Bogart was uncanny. It became readily apparent, however, that this was no prank.

A quick glance around the room nearly sent him into shock. In the corner a band was setting up, but it was no ordinary band. Buddy Holly was testing his microphone while Ritchie Valens tuned a guitar. Further down the bar Marilyn Monroe leaned over, grinning broadly as she teased the bartender until he made her a cosmopolitan. The large booth in the opposite corner was full of Kennedys: Jack, Bobby, Ted and even JFK, Jr.

"This can't be happening," he whispered to himself.

"Oh don't fret, darling," a soft voice said from behind him. "Being dead does have its perks." He jumped when she placed a dainty hand on his arm. The woman who had addressed him was none other than Audrey Hepburn.

"I'm dreaming," he muttered.

"I assure you, you're not. Come, I think you need a drink."

Audrey led him to the bar, but in his confused stupor he bumped shoulders with a gentleman walking the other way.  "Excuse me, I'm sorry," he said in apology. Dean Martin simply smiled and continued walking by. When the bartender handed him a glass of scotch, he downed it instantly. "What the hell is going on?"

"You're dead, to put it simply," another voice said to him. He recognized the nasally intonation instantly.

"And you're Katherine Hepburn!"

"In the flesh! Well, so to speak."

Audrey giggled. "That's my sister!"

"Ok, seriously, what is this?"

"My dear boy," Katherine began. "Welcome to the Dead Celebrity Café!"

Thankfully he was seated on a bar stool. Otherwise his knees would have weakened and he certainly would have lost his strength. All around him, everywhere, were celebrities from every era. Each and every one of them had died. Dean Martin had returned to a curved booth with high, red leather seating to re-join Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis, Jr. In yet another booth sat several more recently deceased, younger actors. Near the bandstand Elvis Presley chatted with Princess Diana.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Katherine cackled out her trademark laugh. "Boys are so dumb. No, you can't get sick here. You can't get cold, you can't get tired. These are some of the joys of being deceased!"

"But why am I here? I'm not," he began to say before the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "Wait, I'm dead?"

"I'm sorry, but yes, you are quite," Audrey informed him. "It does take some getting used to, but we all adjust fine."

"I, I, I don't understand. I'm dead? How did I die? And you're all celebrities! Why am I here?"

"You don't remember anything, do you?" Audrey asked. He simply shook his head. "Well, that will all be explained in time. And I assure you, what you did made you an instant celebrity of the highest order."

"I, what?"

Again Katherine chimed in. "You rescued twenty-six dogs from a burning animal shelter. And it was all caught on that YouTube. Women all over the country fell in love with you in an instant!"

"Ok, so, why am I dead?"

"A jealous ex-girlfriend shot you the head. Several times."

"I, what??? I need another drink."

Katherine laughed again. "I'll have one with you."

He sat in silence for a few minutes and took in more of the scene. James Dean and Heath Ledger seemed deep in conversation, while Jimmy Stewart yucked it up with Judy Garland. It was a veritable who's who of stardom. It was simultaneously mesmerizing and terrifying to know that he was sitting in bar with a bunch of dead people.  

"So, now what?" he asked.

"Don't be in such a hurry, young man," Gregory Peck said as he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You've got an entire afterlife to find answers. Hello, Audrey. You look divine," he said as he turned to his Roman Holiday co-star and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hello, dear Gregory. How are you?"

"Oh, just ducky, my dear."

He sat and stared in awe as the two Hollywood icons bantered as if nothing was wrong. As if they weren't dead and weren't drinking in a bar full of other dead people.

"I can't believe this is how it ends," he remarked.

"No," Katherine's nasally voice rang in his ear. "This is just the beginning."

© J.J. Goodman 2104. All rights reserved.