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

them soon enough. This is Thin ‘n Trim Roasted Turkey, 706.” He punched in the code on the scale and a sticker printed out with the price and weight. “Bag it, sticker it, and hand it to the customer.” He held the bag of turkey out to a skinny old man who looked disgusted.

“I didn’t order that, idiot,” said the man. “I ordered Krakus Ham.”

“Aha,” shouted Al. “Very sorry sir.” He leaned in to Death and covered his mouth to whisper, “Now we can eat this one.” Death nodded and laughed as Al went for the ham.

“Well, I think Al could learn a thing or two from you,” said Bobby, who had been watching from the doorway. Al stopped slicing and looked at Bobby, then Death. His face showed a powerful glimpse of heartbrokenness, then he was utterly seething. Bobby walked out the back door again.

“He seems nice,” said Death. He looked at Al, who was still frozen as the blade of the slicer spun menacingly. He was a horrifying shade of red, his jowls jiggling in rage, his eyes wide with disgust. “Al? Al? Is something wrong?” Al did not answer, but went back to cutting the meat. When he was finished, he leaned against the counter with arms crossed and let Death take care of the rest of the customers under his awful glare. Death felt so uncomfortable that he could not even bring himself to speak.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” said Bobby hours later as Al removed his apron and power-walked out the front door of the supermarket. “Look, I want to thank you for your help. Here’s fifty dollars just for today. You aren’t in the computers yet so today won’t be on your next paycheck, but you would have probably made a little less than this anyways.” He held out a fifty dollar bill, which Death took and pocketed.

“Wow, thanks a lot,” said Death, smiling.

“Good to have you on board, Derek. Get a good night’s rest. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine o’clock in the morning. Next week you’ll be able to pick up your check at the customer service booth. You can cash them there, too.” He left out the same front door Al had sulked his way out of. Death followed soon after.

The man was still outside, asking whoever passed for money. Death took the fifty out of his pocket and slipped it into his tin cup. “There you go, I should have more next week,” said Death, and he walked off as the man watched him leave in stunned silence.

For the next week, every time Death passed the man, they nodded at each other as though they were old friends. When Friday rolled around and Death retrieved his first paycheck ($179), he walked out of the store and plopped it in the man’s cup without hesitation. The man still had no idea what to say, and could only laugh with happiness.

Death Goes Speed Dating

U.S. IMPLEMENTS “KILL EVERYONE” TECHNIQUE

Damascus, Syria – Three weeks after the United States declared war in Syria, not a single casualty has occurred. The anomaly has officials worried.

“You can’t have a war where no one is dying,” General Patrick Brand, commander of the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), said. “It makes no friggen sense.”

The ISAF decided to implement what it calls the “Kill Everyone” technique. “The technique involves leading our troops into a land combat with the enemy and hitting the entire area with a napalm strike,” Brand said.

“Yeah, that will probably work pretty well,” President Obama tweeted to the Associated Press last night.

“The groundbreaking technique should lead to some deaths, which we can only hope will lead us to a win,” Brand said.

When asked how killing our own troops would lead to winning a war, Brand shrugged and muttered something about having his head waxed.

“You know, Derek, my girls are good for lonely men,” said Tim. He was sitting at the usual table with Death, having the usual coffee and sandwich for lunch. “But I feel like you deserve a nice girl. Have you ever been in a relationship?”

“With a lady?” asked Death. “No, I guess not.”

“I really think you should go out there and find one. I’m sure you want a woman to make you feel good about yourself,” said Tim.

“But I don’t,” said Death. “Not particularly.”

“There’s this place down on Parakeet Street that does what’s called speed dating every Thursday evening. Have you heard of it?” Death shook his head and sighed. Thim continued, “Since today is Thursday, why don’t you try it tonight? I hear it’s really something else.”

“Sure,” said Death, who did not, as usual, have any plans in particular. He figured if his friend Tim talked highly of it, it had to be fun.

“All you need to know when it comes to women is what to talk to them about. What kind of interests do you have? What do you think they’d like to know?”

“I could talk about car accidents,” said Death thoughtfully, not noticing Tim’s horrified expression. “Or when people jump off bridges. Or I could talk about my friend War. Or even Satan, he’s a pretty fun guy.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Tim, choking on his coffee and waving his hands in the air. “Uh, Derek, buddy, you can’t talk about crap like that. And you wonder why you’ve never had a relationship before?”

“I’ve never wondered that,” said Death matter-of-factly.

Tim took a napkin from his plate and retrieved a pen from his jacket pocket. “I’m going to write up a list for you, of things you can talk to women about. It doesn’t have to be much, just a few starter points. You can take it from there, as long as you don’t start talking about…you know…car crashes and stuff.” He scrawled quickly on the napkin, taking little time to ponder his decisions, and handed the paper to Death proudly. The list read:

-Bourbon whisky

-The second amendment

-The post-apocalyptic world

-Overtaxing on tobacco and alcohol

-Led Zeppelin

-The disadvantages of big government

-Chewing gum

-Bean versus onion dip

-The