The dead body problem

I was woken early one morning by a loud banging on my back door. I quickly dressed and rushed downstairs, to find Alun in an agitated state.

 

“There’s a dead body, Jed,” he said.

 

“A dead body, where? Washed ashore on the morning tide?”

 

“No Jed, I dug it out of a grave.”

 

“You dug up a grave and are surprised you found a body?” Alun can be somewhat eccentric this time of year, he spent the whole of last spring under the illusion that he was a squirrel.  “Whose grave?”

 

“My grave, Jed.”

 

“Your grave?”

 

“Yes Jed, you know I keep my grave and coffin ready, just in case.” As an independent island, we try to avoid the bureaucracy of the mainland. When we die we have our grave ready, so we simply bury ourselves and wait for the next generation to show up in another story. It’s how Happy Island has managed to remain populated for so long without the presence of women.

 

“So, who’s buried there? Anyone we know?”

 

“No, Jed. It’s a young man, a mainlander. I’ve never seen him before.”

 

We waited several hours until the mainland emergency services woke up, then explained the situation to them over the phone. As it was Alun who had discovered the body, and as it was in his grave, he had to spend several months dealing with petty bureaucracy. You wouldn’t think the mainland would have a form for when you find a complete stranger in your grave, but in fact that had several dozen, and Alun had to complete all of them.

 

“So, who was the young man,” I asked.

 

“His name was Alun Davies.”

 

“But you’re Alun Davies,” I said. It took a while before I realised the truth. “You mean …”

 

“Yes, Jed, he was my replacement. He was due to turn up in a story after I’d died and been the next Alun to your Jed. He was only twenty-five.”

 

“What did he die of?”

 

“Suicide, Jed.”

 

“What a waste. Why would anyone that young kill themselves?”

 

“Money, Jed. He was 250,000 mainland pounds in debt.”

 

“250,000 mainland pounds. How did he come to owe so much money. Was he into drugs? Did he have a gambling addiction?”

 

“Education, Jed.”

 

“Education?”

 

“He did a PhD on the mainland. He was facing a life of debt, unable to ever afford his own home, and forever at the mercy of dodgy landlords and debt collectors.”

 

“Why would anyone on the mainland ever seek an education if they didn’t have rich parents? It makes no sense.”

 

“It’s very sad, Jed.”

 

“But how did he fill the grave in, if he was already dead?”

 

“His PhD was in escapology, Jed. It’s the sort of trick he’d have learnt on his course.”

 

Alun decided to leave the body in the grave and dig a new one for himself. However, the next morning I was woken at just after 5.00 a.m. by a hammering on my back door.

 

I quickly dressed and rushed downstairs, where I found Alun in an excitable state.

 

“It’s Alun, Jed,” Alun said. “He’s escaped, the grave's empty.”

 

“Escaped! How, he’s been dead for months.”

 

“It’s his escapology training, Jed. Just think, if he’d lived what great adventures you’d have had. Much more interesting than anything we’ve ever done.”