Death in the City by Kyle Giroux (read my book TXT) 📗

By observation, Death saw that people enjoyed buying things. In fact, it seemed to be their absolute favorite thing to do, even more than talking or thinking. So he wheeled out a cart of his own and began in the frozen foods section. Mounds of fish sticks and pizzas and chicken and burgers stood before him. He instinctively went for the most colorful packages he could find.

Then there was the cereal aisle. Rows of brightly colored boxes sat upon the racks, and Death chose all his favorite colors: red, black, orange, and purple. In his excitement he stood on the crossbar by the wheels of the cart and rode it down the aisle. He soon lost control and fell off, landing on the back of his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a woman. Death sat up and looked at her. She was pudgy and had a round lumpy head, upon which sat a mess of tangled black hair. “Your runaway cart hit my child.” Death peered around her to see a young boy lying in front of the cart, holding his arm.

“I’m really sorry,” said Death. “I lost control of the basket.”

“Say, aren’t you Mayor Derek?” asked the woman.

“Yes, I am.”

“Say hi to the mayor, James,” said the woman, patting her freckle-faced child on the back. “You were nearly concussed by the nice public official.”

“Oh, but I really didn’t—“ started Death.

“Hi, mayor,” said James.

“Hi James,” said Death. “Sorry I almost broke your legs.”

“I just wanted to tell you how honored I am to have you as our new leader,” said the woman. “I voted for you, and I’m proud of it. I know you’ll do a great service for this city.”

“I will?” asked Death. “Oh, I mean yes, of course. I’ll fix…potholes and…stuff.”

“I’m off to teach my boy how to ride a bike,” said the woman. “Isn’t that right, James?” James looked up at his mother. “We need to buy a helmet first, so we’re off to Cosby’s Sporting Goods. Safety always comes first, or he’ll get hurt or even worse, he’ll be dead. Isn’t that right, James?”

“Oh, no need to worry about that,” said Death. “There is a zero percent chance little James here will die, so you won’t need a helmet or anything.”

“Excuse me?” asked the woman, her smile vanishing.

“I just mean, there’s no such thing as dying anymore. So he should be good.” He looked at James and smiled.

“You’re telling my son not to wear a helmet while riding a bike?”

“Yup, exactly.”

“And what if he falls, moron?” she snapped. Death felt a sudden tension in his forehead. “What if he hits his head on something? What if he gets hit by a car?”

“Well, it’s just that you mentioned him dying and—“

“Clearly you enjoy the idea of children who are hurt and in pain,” said the woman, crossing her arms.

“But I thought dying was the worst thing that could happen to humans,” said Death. “Isn’t that what you people are always worried about?”

“Come on, James,” said the woman. “We have no time for people like this. I never would have voted for you if I knew you didn’t even have good Christian values”

“Christian values?” repeated Death. The woman took her son by the shoulder and led him away to the vegetable aisle. Death shrugged and proceeded to the checkout line.

“That’s going to be three hundred and forty-seven dollars,” said the young pimple-faced man running the register. “Went a little heavy on the cheese balls, huh sir?” He pointed to five oversized tubs of generic brand cheese balls, which were a delightful shade of unnaturally bright orange.

“Oh, uh, here’s my money,” said Death. He handed over the twenty thousand dollar Freepay check and left the store. Back on Maine Street, he took in the sight of his rainbow of a shopping basket. “That was fun,” he said. He left the cart on the sidewalk and walked back home.

“You really socked that Greenwich guy,” said Tim. Death had called him and Maria to his house early in the afternoon for a chat and coffee in the kitchen before another scheduled speech in the park. “Talk about a landslide. You must have put a lot of effort into that one.”

“No, not really,” said Death, shrugging and sipping his coffee.

“Well, you must have some great advisors.”

“No, Barry Gregory said they were the cheapest he could find.”

“Your promises must have really grabbed attention then.”

“Didn’t make any.”

“Your suit?”

“Almost,” said Death, leaning over the table. “Izzy told me it was all about the speeches. The key is to talk about nothing for a really long time and to make eye contact. And to keep mentioning that you’re part of the working class.”

“Oh, so lying,” said Tim, nodding.

“What?” asked Death.

“I almost forgot,” said Maria. “I picked up the paper for you, it was on your doorstep.” She held up the Evening Post and Tim took hold of it. “Oh jeez, Derek, what’d you do?” he asked, holding the paper up and scanning it frantically. “You hit some kid and told him that he shouldn’t wear a helmet when he rides a bike?”

“What?” asked Death. Maria glanced at the front page.

“Wow, you said you didn’t care if he died?” she asked.

“Is this in the paper?” asked Death, taking hold of the Evening Post.

“Yeah, check it out,” said Tim.

“That happened a half hour ago,” said Death. “There’s no way.” Sure enough, on the front page was the title: “NEW MAYOR OF HAIR HATES CHILDREN.”

“But I don’t hate children,” said Death. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You didn’t tell that kid he wouldn’t die if he didn’t wear a helmet?” asked Maria.

“Well yes, I did say that. But it’s true, he won’t die.”

“Well, we know that,” said Maria. “But if you aren’t ready to tell everyone then you can’t just mention it to people you don’t know. It’ll freak them out.”

“I guess you’re right,” Death sighed.

“Gonna be honest with you, Derek,” said Izzy, twirling a large silver coin between his fingers as he sat in his big leather office