Night of the Night of the Headless Biker Headless Biker - Haunted Attic

Night of theHeadless BikerBackgroundThe ghostly halls of Limbo are an eternalmystery, even to those who dwell here. Some of thedoors you know. They lead to the rooms of yourfriends, domains like your own which have beensculpted by their personalities, revealing secretsyou wish you never knew.Meeting in the waiting room is much lessembarrassing. But even that grows old. Listening tothe same stories over and over again, reading thesame magazines, watching the same shows on atelevision that only seems to receive reruns fromtwenty years ago. The magazines are equally old,and never hint at current events. A new face wouldbe a blessing.Which is why you prowl the halls, looking for away out of Limbo . . . a door your Mentor hasforgotten to lock, or a passage leading to one ofthose Outer Planes you’ve heard so much about.Paradise sounds like a nice place to visit, if for noother reason than to break up the monotony.It was in the halls that you first saw the pimplyyouth. He wore a black t-shirt with the words,Horror Haven written on it in blood red. His faceand torso were marred by gaping wounds, but theyoung man didn’t seem bothered by hisdisfigurement.“Hey, dude,” he called in greeting. “Am I inHell?” From his grin, you thought he enjoyed thepossibility. You informed him that while somemight consider this Hell, it was officially Limbo.“Sounds boring,” the youth observed, withgreater sagacity than you gave him credit for.You asked him his name, and how he hadcome to Limbo.“Name’s Paulie. Guess I got here the usual way,by kicking the bucket. There anything to do aroundhere, or is it all like this?”You guided him to the waiting room, whereyour so called soul-mates sat on overstuffed chairs.You never could believe this sorry crew wascosmically linked to you. By the time you reachedthe waiting room, Paulie had grown faintlytranslucent. His ectoplasm trailed after him like awake of smoke.Paulie flopped on an old bean-bag chair andadjusted the knobs on the battered TV set. “Cool!Can ya get Monster Vision on this thing? Doesbeing dead screw up the reception? How come it’sin black and white?”Paulie turned out to be a typical teenager,obsessed with horror movies and gory specialeffects. It was all he could talk about. The othersgathered around him, as curious to meet anewcomer as you were. They bombarded him withquestions about sports and world events. Yoursoul-mates always did have trouble letting go oftheir earthly obsessions.Paulie grew annoyed at the interrogation.“Jeez, do you people always pick on the new guylike this? I’m the one who just died. What about myquestions? Like, what did I do to deserve thisplace?”You asked Paulie to tell you about his death. Ifhe still had unfinished business, that would explaineverything.“I was watchin’ the Midnight Monster Movieon cable -- they had a triple Bruno Bonefield filmfest! Anyway, it was pretty late by the time themovie I had been waiting for came on. It was TheChopper Doctor with Sally Kincaid. Boy, is shestacked! Anyway, I’m watching the classic bathtubscene when the doc bursts through the door withhis bone saw and tries the old chop-chop action onSally, only this time the Doc comes chargin’ off the2 2