This happened in the very early days of the 20th century.

There was this fella who lived in Alberta, whose name was Duncan MacCloskey. He worked as a conductor for the Canadian Pacific Railway. He didn't have many friends, but nobody noticed anything particularly strange about him. He was just your normal, everyday guy.

So one day, the train was going down the line, and Duncan was taking tickets, as usual. But this time, he came to a little old lady who was rummaging through her purse. Her name was Delilah Stretch, and she was very, very old -- eighty two, to be exact.

"Tickets please," Duncan said.

"Oh, dear, sonny," Delilah responded, "I can't seem to find my ticket. If you'll only give me five minutes I'm sure I could...."

"Listen, you bitch!" Duncan interrupted. "We don't take stowaways on this train!" He grabbed her by the shirt, and hauled her to the nearest door.

And then, Duncan MacLeod threw Delilah Stretch off the train and to her death. She bounced twice.

At the next stop, Duncan was placed under police custody. Tried by a jury of his peers, he was found guilty of murder, and sentenced by the judge to death by that newfound wonder of executionary technology:

the electric chair.

At last, the Big Night arrives. The prison guards convey Duncan to the execution chamber. They strap him down, and attach the electrodes.

At the stroke of midnight, they pulsed two thousand volts of electricity through Duncan's body for three minutes.

Wzzzt-wzzt-wzzzt

After the wicked deed was done, the solemn guards unstrapped the body and lay it on a body table. But then they noticed something – the body was still twitching, and even breathing!

They rushed Duncan to the prison infirmary. Miraculously, he was still alive, and even more miraculously, after only a few short months he was able to walk, talk and speak again.

Now, the poor prison guards were stumped. Should they juice him again, or lock him up, or set him free? After all, as far as they could tell he really was dead for at least a few minutes. And there was no precedent, that anyone could remember anyway, for executing someone twice. And also remember, this was Canada.

So they asked the judge. The judge decided that, rather than risk some big philosophical and legal sticky business, he would simply change the sentence to exile, and make Duncan somebody else's problem.

So Duncan got as far away from Alberta as he could, and shipped on down to Alabama. There, he got a very basic entry-level position in a local train company – the sort where they don't even do a background check. He was only supposed to be a temp anyway. But slowly, Duncan began to gain the trust of the company, and rose in rank gradually until finally, many years later, he was once again a conductor.

So one day, the train is going down the line, and Duncan is taking tickets, as usual. But today he came to a certain Sister Mary Jane O'Brian, a 99-year-old nun, who was in transit with her 6-year-old great-great-great niece, Helen.

"Tickets, please."

"Oh, goodness me," said Sister O'Brian, "I can't seem to find the tickets. If you'd just come back to me in a few minutes...."

"Listen, you whore!" screamed Duncan. "We don't take freeloaders on this train!"

Grabbing the little old nun and her 6-year-old niece by the hair, he hauled them to the nearest door and threw them off – into the path of an oncoming train! They were smeared for about half a mile. It was the worst murder in train history.

At the next stop, Duncan was placed under police custody. Once again he was tried by jury, and once again he was found guilty of murder, this time on two counts. And once again, he was sentenced to death by electrocution.

When the court discovered Duncan's past history, they decided to invite his former prison guard down to Alabama so that he could do the "honours." The guard, though he had since retired, decided to don the uniform one more time just to see Duncan fry.

The Big Day arrived, and the guards strapped Duncan into the chair good and tight. This time, they thoroughly soaked him in salt water, and then attached the electrodes good and tight. When they threw the switch, they left it on for about twice as long as they had to, just to make good and sure the durn bastard was dead.

Wzzzt-wzzt-wzzzt

When they were satisfied that Duncan MacCloskey would rise no more, they made their way over to the chair and began to unstrap his body. But lo and behold, he was still breathing, his heart was still beating. Terrified and confused, the guards rushed him to the prison infirmary.

Once again, it was a miraculous recovery, and Duncan was able to speak within only a couple of months. The old prison guard came to visit him one day.

"Duncan," said the guard, "you gotta tell me: How did you survive two rounds in the electric chair?"

Duncan sighed, and said:

"I guess I'm a good conductor after all."