“But I didn’t do exactly what that woman said I did,” said Death.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re a public figure now. You have to watch every single move you make, or the media will eat you alive.”
“But why?” asked Death.
“That’s just the way it is,” said Izzy, standing up. “Luckily, you have me to set the record straight. I suggest that you start in right away with some legislation and mandates. People love that stuff. And you can trust me when I tell you that I am not using you in order to shift into your position of power at a later date.”
“Okay, great,” said Death, smiling and nodding.
Soon Death was standing at a podium in front of the citizens of Hair. He looked at his speech card (which he had never seen before now), and put his mouth to the microphone. “My fellow citizens,” he read. “Thank you for choosing me, Derek Derek, to represent this amazing city. It is my privilege and honor to be here today.” The crowd cheered. Death found his words to be distant, as though they were not even coming out of his own mouth. “First, I plan on filling in all the potholes in the city by the end of this hour. I already signed a form that will not only ban factory dumping in local rivers, but will also create or save forty-thousand jobs within the next month.” Death knew this was a lie, and it threw him off. “In the next two weeks I plan to hire two hundred new police officers, and to fund public programs that the previous mayor had to cut in order to make room for bars.” After a lengthy pause, Death cleared his throat, laughed nervously and kept reading.
“I have also put in some new policies for our many social and legal issues. Firstly, I will up the war on drugs to a full-scale attack.” Most of the people in the crowd applauded. “I will also work to clean the streets of smut. Our war on prostitution and pornography will be waged full out. This will not only create jobs for our police force, but will save our children from corruption.” The cheering grew dimmer, though still present. “I will also wage a war against terrorism in this city, and close off the borders to all potential terrorists.” The applause grew again, and Death felt better about himself. “I will do this by installing fences along all borders, racial profiling, and heightened security with secret police and special task forces.”
Death threw his hands in the air, but most people just stared. “I also plan on making this a dry city. No more alcohol, in any form. Families will no longer be corrupted by the drink made by the devil himself.” Death counted four people in the crowd who cheered as he wondered why Satan never told him that he invented alcohol. It seemed like something he would have bragged about.
“Um…yeah,” said Death. The crowd was eerily silent before a dim wave of inquisition flooded over them. “Well, uh, I have also noticed an abuse of the first amendment. Therefore, I will form a strict limit on free speech, press, and peaceful assembly. I plan to put a ban on any questionable radio and television shows, videos on the internet, and violent video games. I also plan to ban gun rights, tobacco, safe sex programs and contraceptives, cheap and effective nuclear power, immigration as well as emigration, and profanity, while at the same time raising taxes and creating more animal rights programs. Together, we will make this city the best place to live in the entire world.” A wave of boos and shouts of hatred crashed into Death’s ears.
“Okay, that one didn’t work so well,” shouted Izzy over the din. “But we’ll get them next time.”
“Why are we banning everything?” asked Death.
“Because they’re vices and people should not be doing them.”
“I guess that makes sense,” shouted Death. “But can’t people decide that for themselves?”
“No,” shouted Izzy as a rotten tomato from the crowd splattered onto Death’s turned back. “Bad vegetables, that’s really cliché.”
At home, War appeared next to Death, who was exhausted but did not want to be rude to his old friend. “Hi,” he said. “How are you?”
“I’m doing fine,” said War, gliding his fingertips along the brim of his top hat. “I was just in the Middle East. Suicide bombers are having quite a time over there now that they realized they can’t die. So you’ve made this interesting, but I can’t decide if it’s more fun.”
“Interesting’s a start,” said Death.
“I need to talk to you about something personal, though,” said War. “I attended the speech you gave a few minutes ago. I don’t care about much of what you said, but you absolutely cannot abolish guns. People use the terms ‘war on drugs’ or ‘war on pornography,’ but they don’t particularly mean anything. Real wars involve actual fighting, winners and losers, and I simply cannot have—“
Brian cut War off by bursting into the living room. “I am so angry right now,” he shouted.
“Oops,” said War.
“Uh, why?” asked Death.
“I don’t know,” said Brian, walking over to the couch.
“I tend to do that to people, sorry,” said War.
“I’m sure it has everything to do with you,” said Brian “Or maybe it’s just because you keep bringing your creepy friends over, Derek.”
“Should I leave?” asked War.
“No,” said Brian. “I’m sure you want to maim me, or make me violently ill or something. But I won’t have it. Not this time. You stupid jerk.” He lifted his fist back and punched Death in the face. As Death felt the sting of the blow course through his face, Brian fell to the floor, dead.
“Shoot,” said Death. “I was trying really hard not to reap him. He was pretty funny.”
A knock came to the front door. War said “Think about what I told you, please,” before snapping his fingers
