Grim Fandango Final v2 .pdf

Preview of PDF document grim-fandango-final-v2.pdf

Page 123274

Text preview

By Reagan Warner

Grim Fandango
Chapter 1 – Enter Death
Everything began when I died. Life doesn’t count. I fouled that up good, but
death gave me a second chance I never expected. So this is where I’m
beginning – My Judgement Day.
I got one hell of a shock after I died. It turns out that when we die, our
mortal souls move on to the Land of the Dead – where they take the form of
our skeletal appearance as it was in life. Picture Spanish Calaca figures that
move and interact freely with each other. No skin, no organs, no blood.
Just cold, white bone. When the reaper handling my case brought me in, he
told me that I had to remain in the Land of the Dead indefinitely. Since I
hadn’t expected there to even be a ‘Land of the Dead’, I needed an
explanation for what was happening and why. But I didn’t get one, not really.
Not one that made much sense at first. He told me that I had a debt to work
off – a moral debt. So I asked him what that meant.
“Mr. Calavera…” the reaper began.
“Call me Manny.” I said.
The reaper didn’t smile. Of course, not with an inflexible bone face; but I
sensed, somehow, that he would have been smiling if he could.
“Manny,” he said. “When a soul dies, they come here – to the Department
of Death – where they are told how they will be travelling the four-year
journey across the Land of the Dead. The better a soul lived their life, the
better the travel packages are that become available to them. And with a
record like yours, you won’t be allowed to continue on to the Land of Eternal
Rest for quite some time. Your debt will have to be paid off.”
I noticed he hadn’t really answered the question.
“Suppose I walk, or hitch a lift? Forget the train or bus or whatever.”
“Manny, listen to me: do not try to leave town. Not ever. That would be the
absolute worst thing you could ever hope to do.”
I fumbled with my fifth cigarette since I was brought in, in a pointless attempt
to cover up the shaking of my fleshless hands.
“So, are you telling me there are worse things than being stuck in a world
of the walking dead?”
“Yes, Manny.” He assured me. “Much, much worse.”
I took a deep drag on the cigarette. Then another. “So… about this debt,
whatever it is… How do I pay it off?”
“You will work for the Department of Death. As a reaper.
“¡Hijole! ”