“Ha, that’s right,” repeated Death. Being human seemed well within reach now.
“Oh,” shouted Sheila, throwing her hands into the air. “And our children! What should we name them? I like Damien Lyle for a boy, but I really hope we have a girl first so I can name her Lily Morgan. Lily Morgan Derek, my goodness it’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said Death. “Children.” This was all happening so fast and he was so elated that his mind could barely keep up with the words flowing out of his mouth.
“This is the happiest moment of my life,” shouted Sheila. Everyone in the restaurant was staring now, even the bees. “A marriage proposal! Oh, Derek, it’s wonderful, it’s magical, it’s just so--” She threw her hand onto Death’s, which he had placed at the center of the table. Since Sheila was being so scattered and ridiculous Death did not react quickly enough to avoid the contact. She stopped talking immediately, her eyes going wide, and quickly her entire upper body lurched forward and she landed face-first into her bowl of soup, spattering broth and vegetables all over the vicinity.
“Help,” screamed the waiter, rushing over to Sheila’s limp corpse. “Someone must have eaten the salmonella tomatoes again! Someone help!” He tried to dig a shoulder under Sheila’s chest to move her off the table, but gave up.
“Don’t worry,” said a young lanky man with curly brown hair. “My name is Jared, and I’m a nursing major in college.” He rushed over to the table as the rest of the diners looked on with deep interest. With the waiter’s help, Jared got Sheila face-up on the floor. Death looked around nervously for the nearest door.
“We need a doctor, not a nursing major,” said the waiter.
“It’s the same thing,” shouted Jared.
“No it isn’t.”
“Watch, with my help she’ll be good as new,” said Jared. He lifted a fist and pounded it into Sheila’s sternum with a resounding crack. “Oh, might have broken something there.”
Death sidled out the back exit next to the kitchen. He felt alone again, but figured a coffee with Tim could fix that.
A Promotion
Mr. Ancora, the manager of FreePay Brothers Supermarket, sweated heavily beneath his pinstripe suit. He continually clicked a Zippo lighter open and shut in front of his round, grinning face, and routinely licked his hand to run it across his hair. Death wondered with content interest why Mr. Ancora would call him to his office on such a busy Friday morning. “Ah, Donald, is it?” he said.
“Um, Death. No, Derek,” said Death.
“That’s it, that’s it,” said Mr. Ancora. “Have a seat then, Daniel.” He clicked his lighter and stared vaguely at the ceiling as Death sat. “I’ve been hearing all about the great work you’ve done for the produce department here at FreePay Brothers Supermarket.”
“Produce,” Death repeated softly. “But I work in the deli.”
“Daniel,” said Mr. Ancora, standing up and walking around his desk to lean against the front of it. Death sat staring up at the wide man’s triple chin. “We here at FreePay Brothers would like to offer you a promotion to CEO of the company. If you accept, you will see a significant increase in pay and, at the same time, a significant decrease in work. What do you say to that, Dustin?”
“Why?” asked Death.
“Because of all the hard work you’ve been doing.”
“But why…really? Why not Bobby?”
Mr. Ancora’s eyes narrowed. “Because Bobby’s gay.”
“So?”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been a problem if he weren’t open about it, but since he is, you’re the only one left.”
“So you won’t accept him because he told you the truth about something that has nothing to do with the job itself?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
After a few signatures and poorly timed puns to avoid handshakes, Death became the CEO of the Massachusetts branch of FreePay Brothers Supermarkets. He walked past a glaring Al for the last time to turn in his apron.
“So it’s true,” said Bobby. “You’re moving on? Is it true?”
“I guess so,” said Death, setting his rolled up apron on the counter. “Thanks for everything, Bobby, you’ve been a big help.”
“Yeah, well, it was good having you around,” said Bobby. “Now you’re leaving me with Al. I hate that guy.”
“I think he’s pretty funny,” said Death, shrugging. He made a stop at the service booth and walked outside, giving his very last paycheck to the man outside the door. “That’s it,” said Death. “I don’t work here anymore. I’m sorry.”
Death expected the man to be disappointed, but a great smile broke over his face. “Mister,” he said, “I’ve never seen such kindness before in my life. Bless you, mister. Bless you.” And with that he danced across the street, out into a parking lot of a neighboring department store and through the woods behind it, vanishing out of sight.
“Well look at you then,” exclaimed Tim when Death told him the news at the HaffCaff Café. “I knew when I met you that you’d be something. And now here you are, a big CEO. Just remember the little people when you buy that mansion, eh?”
“I doubt I’ll be buying one any time soon,” said Death. “I guess I have a meeting to go to at one o’clock today, in Boston. Something about putting chopsticks in FreePays around the country.”
Tim choked on his coffee a little and looked at his watch. “One o’clock in Boston? You’d better get a move on, pal.” Death looked at his own wrist, which was bare, and thought perhaps he should buy a nice watch himself. As an afterthought, slight panic washed over him.
“How do I even get there?” he asked.
“I guess the train would be your best bet,” he said. “You could take the subway to the train station, then that will take you right to Boston. I bet if you caught the train at 12:10 you could make it with a few minutes to spare. I think the FreePay headquarters is right across the street from North Station. You should
