“Oh man, I can’t believe that worked,” said the man. Death looked down to see that he was standing in the middle of a circle outlined in chalk and burning black candles, around which were inscriptions in Latin. He had seen this before. “I looked it up online,” admitted the man. “I figured I’d give it a try. And here you are, it’s really you. Death himself, right?”
“Yeah,” said Death, rubbing his forehead with a sweaty palm. “Yup, that’s me. Look, I know you summoned me and everything, but—“
“You’re a lot less scary than I thought you’d be,” said the man, standing up off the couch. He looked weak and tired.
“I’m plenty scary,” said Death.
“Well, anyways, my name is Thomas Lange. I need you to do me a big favor right now. I’m a cancer patient, see, and I—“
“Oh, no,” interrupted Death. “No, no, no, I’m done with that stuff nowadays.”
“No, but you have to listen. I want to strike a deal with you. I’m too young, way too young for this. There is so much in my life I haven’t done yet, so much I haven’t seen.”
“But you don’t understand,” said Death.
“Please,” said Thomas, his eyes closed and lips trembling. “Please, I’m begging you. I’ll give you anything.”
“I’ve quit. You won’t die. No one will.”
“For the love of God, please,” whimpered Thomas.
Death breathed a deep sigh of frustration. “Fine. What is it you want to give me so I won’t reap you?”
Thomas stood up and the tension in his face vanished. “Oh, thank you, thank you so much. I’ll give you anything, you just name it.”
“Um…well,” said Death, stepping out of the chalk and candle circle. Then, an idea. “Do you have a boat?”
“A boat? Of course,” said Thomas.
“Do you think you could take me fishing today? I’ve always wanted to go fishing.”
“Certainly! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Then I definitely won’t die?”
“You won’t die,” said Death happily.
Thomas drove him to a harbor on the outskirts of the city. Boats lined the docks, rocking back and forth lightly in the soft breeze that rolled across the shore. Thomas parked the car and led Death to a nice wooden boat with a blue trim and swirling white letters that read “Queen Anne’s Reprisal” on the hull. Death’s nostrils were hit with the pleasant aroma of dead sea creatures and salt water. He followed Thomas onto the boat.
“Well, here it is, the Queen Anne’s Reprisal. She’s my baby.” He ran his hand along the steering wheel and closed his eyes. “I have a few fishing poles down below.” Death gazed at the deep blue water as it lapped against the hull of the boat. Thomas emerged from below deck with two large fishing rods and a bucket of small dead fish. “Let me bring her out and we’ll get a move-on,” he said.
“Great,” said Death, snapping out of his trance. “I can’t thank you enough for this, it’s beautiful.” The boat was miles away from shore now.
“Hey, no way. Thank you,” said Thomas, setting a baitfish on Death’s line and doing the same with his own. “I can’t believe this. Don’t you usually make people sell their souls or something? Drastic stuff like that?”
“What? No, not at all,” said Death, tossing his line into the water. “Satan does that stuff. I don’t care much for it, though.”
Thomas lit a cigar and offered Death one, which he declined. “This is one of my favorite spots here,” said Thomas, tossing his line in and looking intently at the light blue horizon. “See why I shouldn’t die? See why I have so much to live for?” He turned his pleading, glassy eyes to Death.
“I..uh, I guess so,” said Death, leaning his arms against the railing of the boat and watching the tip of his fishing rod gently bob up and down. “I mean, is dying really all that bad?”
“Oh, it’s the worst,” said Thomas, crossing his arms and nodding. “It’s just about the most terrible thing to ever happen to anyone.”
“Hm,” said Death. “I guess I just don’t get it. I know you humans don’t like me and everything, and I suppose leaving all this behind would be kind of sad. But are you just scared because the party is going on without you? Shouldn’t you be happy that you got to experience life in the first place? Not to mention for some reason I get the worst reputation out of all the terrible things that could—“
“Oh,” interrupted Thomas. He was pointing at Death’s fishing rod. The tip was bent down so far that it was nearly touching the base of the pole. With all the strength he could muster, Death reeled in the culprit, hoisting a great Bluefish out of the water and onto the deck. It violently flopped upwards, its mouth and gills opening as it gasped for precious water. “Well jeez,” shouted Thomas. “That’s one of the biggest Bluefish I’ve ever seen.”
“That was,” started Death, searching his brain for the right word. He settled on “incredible,” but felt he could have done better.
As Death hooked another baitfish onto the line Thomas said, “How about we make a bet?” Death tossed the line into the water. “Whoever catches the next fish gets to…oh.” Death’s fishing pole bent again. He reeled it in and brought on deck a second Bluefish, even bigger than the first.
“I’m pretty good at this,” said Death. “Maybe they’re just sensing that a natural presence like me is on the boat. That’s another thing I don’t get. Humans are so afraid, but other animals seem not to mind me.” He quickly hooked another piece of bait and tossed it in.
“Yeah, beginner’s luck I guess,” said Thomas. “But listen, I was going to say—oh come on.” Something tugged Death’s line sharply again and he reeled in another fish, this one a Bigmouth Sole. Thomas threw his vision at his own pole, which
