On December 15th, Doris Temple officially died. Except that nobody told her she was actually dead. So when she woke up on the morning of December 16th, she made herself a cup of coffee and went about her day.
And then she noticed that things were a little different. Social Security checks weren’t showing up like usual. Her husband’s pension checks suddenly stopped. And she was receiving mail addressed to “The Estate of Doris Temple.”
Weird.
“I was just waiting for that creepy kid from ‘The Sixth Sense’ to show up at my door,” noted a still breathing Doris.
And then Doris had to begin the arduous task of getting the government to make her alive again. Which, as you might imagine, isn’t easy. Those folks have trouble routing a phone call. Reincarnation? That’s out of the question.
So for the past few months, Doris has been dealing with her own death by trying to recoup thousands in lost income, by getting her mail to start coming again and by getting the telemarketer from the tombstone company to lay the fuck off.
Sucks to be dead when you’re alive.




