Bob sat up and out of himself.

Then he stood and realised that it took an awful lot of effort not to sink through the floor.

There was a man in front of him. He was wearing a long flowing robe with a sinister cowl and was carrying an enormous butter knife.

"Whoooooo arrrrrrrre yoooooooooou?" asked Bob in his best ghost voice.

"You don't need to speak like that just because you're a ghost, you know." said CrazyDeath, "You're basically the same person you were before, except invisible and with a lot less blood. Let's be honest, you have no blood left at all."

"What's that all over the kitchen floor then, eh?" asked Bob, who didn't like the subject of his bloodlessness being thrown around so lightly.

"Well, yes, that is your blood, but does it really count as yours when it's all over the floor and no longer inside your mangled corpse?"

"I suppose not, no." sighed Bob, glancing around uneasily. "So... what happens now?"

"That's up to you." said Death shrugging.

"How did you just shrug?" asked Bob, "You have no muscles!"

"Don't even try to figure out how I work. I can't."

"Okay, so what are my choices?"

"Well, you can come with me to the Decider, who will... decide where you'll go - Heaven, Hell, Evil Heaven or Good Hell. Or you could haunt, that's a popular choice these days. So, what'll it be?"