“Oh, wow,” said Death, smiling. “That’s really great to hear.”
“Listen, Mr. Derek. I heard your speech in the square just now, and it was great. I think you really got a career in politics.”
“Oh, no, that was just—“
“I would be really honored if you would let me sponsor your campaign team. Whaddya say?”
“But I wasn’t—“
“I’ve got plenty of money these days, and I really owe you one. I’d be real honored.”
Death wanted to explain the situation and decline, but Barry wore this hopeful expression that Death just could not say no to. “Yeah,” said Death. “Yeah, that would be something else.”
“Great,” said Barry loudly as he did a small dance. “You’ll be in office soon enough, I guarantee it. I’ll get on the phone with some folks. Here’s my business card. We’ll be in touch. Get ready, because we have a lot of work ahead of us.” And Barry was gone, walking brusquely across the square and down a side street. Death turned around to go back to his apartment to ponder how on earth retirement could possibly be more stressful than his old line of work.
A New Mayor
SHELLOCK ASPIRIN REASON FOR IMMORTALITY
Penachuck, Pennsylvania – Researchers at Shellock Labs have discovered that Shellock OTC is responsible for the immortality phenomenon.
“After careful study we have found that Shellock aspirin has a certain chemical in it that causes immortality,” Dr. Daniel Stump, lead researcher at Shellock Labs, said. “It is a pure coincidence that it happens to be our brand of aspirin that does the trick, but we’re really stoked about it. Because of its life-saving powers, that is. Not because of the money.”
Another pharmaceutical company, Altruist Incorporated, tried to claim responsibility for the immortality phenomenon, but their headquarters were mysteriously destroyed in a bombing case that was declared by authorities to be accidental.
“Yeah, yeah, that was really weird,” Dr. Stump said. “They were lying anyways. We’re not.”
In completely unrelated news, Shellock has seen a 16,000% increase in stock value, and Dr. Stump is currently planning his early retirement.
Barry Gregory used the profits from his winery, Sangio Petto, to fund Death’s campaign through the primaries to become the Republican nominee for mayor of the city. Death was assigned a set of aides to accompany him wherever he went and whisper in his ear about how he should conduct himself. The redheaded one named Izzy nudged Death when the time to give his first speech came around. Death gazed up at a large blue sign in the crowd that said “VOTE DEREK DEREK, AMERICA’S TRUEST HERO,” and looked down at his prepared speech card, which he had never read before now.
“Fellow citizens,” he began. “I stand before you, humbled and touched by your support. I can recall being a young boy living on a quaint farm in Massachusetts, helping my father--a true working class hero--in the fields.” Death looked back at Izzy, who gave a toothy grin and ran his fingers through his hair. Puzzled, he continued. “He would turn his strained, sunburned face to me and take my hand in his gnarled, overworked fingers. He would say, ‘Son, one day you will grow up and do everything you can for this beautiful country. You will make a difference.’ Even now, so many years after his tragic death, I have not forgotten his words.” The crowd erupted into a massive round of applause. Some elderly women cried while younger people hooted and pumped their fists. Death was happy, in an uneasy sort of way.
“One of the most terrible yet inspiring memories I have is my father losing his job because of a particularly dry growing season, putting all of us out on the street.” Death cleared his throat and loosened his tie. “I saw the pain in his eyes first-hand. That is why, if I am elected mayor, my first priority will be to create jobs for the people. Together, we can create a zero unemployment rate, and make this beautiful city the most economically sound place in Massachusetts.” Death shot his fists into the air (which Izzy had instructed him to do often) amidst chants of “Derek! Derek! Derek!” Children danced. College students whooped. Then, silence again.
“Our lack of jobs, especially in the police force after the terrible cafe tragedy weeks ago, is not the only issue we face together, as a city and a nation. We must eliminate the deficit and get Joe Plumber back on his feet again. As mayor, I will distribute wealth to the needy and open animal shelters and organic farms on every major street. I will fix every pothole, so no more of our children will end up like little John Corbane, who broke both of his arms after hitting one with his bike last summer.” A collective ‘aww’ from the crowd. “Vote for me, Derek Derek. Together, we can make the world an incredible and beautiful place, one city at a time.” He shouted the last sentence over booming roars.
When Death was finished with his inspiring words, the polls opened, and that day the city had a new mayor. Death won by a landslide (with 92% of the votes over Greenwich’s 7% and 1% for write-ins) and soon found himself in a meeting with his advisors, laughing and whooping and popping open hundred-dollar Moet et Chandon in celebration.
“Congratulations, Mayor Derek,” shouted Izzy. “Here’s to a great term for our newest public figure. And I swear on my mother’s life that I will not try to have you overthrown in order to take your place.”
“Thanks,” said Death, beaming with tears in his eyes. Life could not get easier or happier than this. “Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”
Death slid out of the election party when Izzy was opening the fifteenth bottle of champagne and took a walk down Maine Street. He wanted to relax after such a demanding morning. So, he went to Freepay.
