The Death of Tomorrow Morning

Mr. Tomorrow Morning is dead. His wife, a charlatan nurse confirmed it. His gateman, a man who administers medicine without license confirmed him dead too. The gateman works for him for free, but since he doubles as an emergency fake doctor and Mrs. Tomorrow as the nurse, he does not mind that he works for them for free.


Finally, the town doctor arrived. He was Dr. Go Slow. He was a lazy old man notorious for his love of bottles. Though legend has it he used to be fast and hard working at his younger age. But looking at him now, that is a very hard thing to imagine. He shuffles while he walks, lifting his feet was too much work for him. He placed the stethoscope on Mr. Tomorrow Morning's chest with the high speed of a snail. He is a man known to expend very little energy in whatever endeavor he was involved in. After about ten minutes, he shook his head in a negative fashion.
“Mr. Tomorrow Morning is quite dead.” He said. "Make no mistake about that.” He added as an afterthought in his characteristic drawling voice.

Dr. Go Slow whose real name is Dr. Ferdinand Crowsloe had been practicing medicine for over thirty years in the sleepy town of Katnap. The town folks due to his sluggish movement deemed it fit that Go Slow is more fitting than Crowsloe. That it sounds similar, makes it easier for some of the town folks to refer to him as Go Slow to his face. Whether he understands this play on his name he never acknowledges. He is a doctor, and part of his job description is never to show what he was thinking.

And with that third confirmation by Dr. Go Slow, there is no doubt that Mr. Tomorrow Morning was dead. It was virtually impossible to be deader than Mr. Tomorrow Morning that fateful Monday afternoon. Ironically, he died in his living room. Also, it came as no surprise to many that he decided to die on a Monday afternoon. He was a man who loves to owe, today that is Monday is a workday, every Katnap citizen was out in the field tending to their crops and animals. But Mr. Tomorrow Morning chose that day to die. He now owes Monday some work!

Mr. Tomorrow Morning was a man many would not miss. He was a cutthroat businessman with a penchant for owing. His government name was Mr. Charles Bigford, but his name might have been Antonio Dasilva for all the difference it made to the town folks. He was notoriously miserly that it was said that he would not pay to save himself from dying. But today he is dead. The Tomorrow Morning that overshadowed his real name was gotten as it was one of his notorious phrases while he was about to owe for the two hundred and fifth time.

"Hello, the beautiful and smart Ms. Robertson, I would pay for all the groceries tomorrow morning. You know I am good for it." He would say with a crooked smile.


"The only thing you are good for is not honoring your word!" Fat Mrs. Robertson snarled as she snatched the groceries out of Mr. Tomorrow Morning's miserly hands. Mrs. Robertson was a jovial fellow, but Mr. Tomorrow morning was not a man to be trusted. The man does not trust his own shadow, so it is just as well.

The local priest was called to say some words for the dead miser but it turned out Mr. Tomorrow Morning still owed him for the wedding he organized for his nephew last year. A wedding in which the nephew gave all the money for its preparations to his miserly uncle, Mr. Tomorrow Morning to organize.

He was not happy that Mr. Tomorrow morning was dead. It means there is no hope of ever getting that payment.

As a man who has been called to serve above selfish interests, Father Mensa hurried off to give one more free service to a man who loved everything free.

He walked in and took a look at Mr. Tomorrow Morning's dead face. He appeared to be smiling. He knew he would never pay him. It worried Father Mensa that was what he was thinking of at that moment. But try as he may, he could not get that dead smile off his thoughts.

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