Free Death in the City by Kyle Giroux

crowd as Kevin was one of the last to jump in. They fought, threw chairs, pushed, punched, and clawed at each other. A lone woman ran back and forth behind the crowd hooting like an owl as a few people decided to use their chairs not for fighting but for dancing upon. Soon everyone was tired of battling and began partying, piggy backing, and shouting obscenities instead. All the while, Kenny Silverman stood on stage marveling at his followers, who, since the poison was incredibly strong but unable to kill them, were unquestionably drunk.
    Death took in the moment and saw his chance to slip out the back door. Even from the street he could hear the LightScribe Gate Group’s party commencing and getting out of hand. He hurried back to his apartment so he could change into a suit and start growing his hair back. The singing, chanting, and hollering slowly died out behind him.

    A Callback for Death

    MAN WITH BAC OF 9.4 LIVES TO SEE NAME IN RECORD BOOK

    Winchester – When Winchester Police arrested Steven Brums, 39, Thursday night, he had a Blood Alcohol Content level of 9.4%, a new world record.
    Brums was picking flowers in his neighbor’s garden when police found him.
    “We got a call about a man severing agapanthuses on private property,” Chief of Police Alfred Writ said. “When we picked him up, Brums was shouting incoherently and trying to light himself on fire by rubbing two sticks together.”
    When Brums’ BAC level showed 9.4%, the officers assumed the testing equipment was faulty. “We ran seven more tests all with the same result,” Writ said. “How this guy isn’t dead is completely out of my grasp.
    When reached for comment, Brums greeted reporters with repeated shouts of “Carl Perkins” and an a capella version of “Daniel” by Elton John.
    Meanwhile, doctors are trying to isolate Brums’ blood to see why he is still alive.
    Brums was charged with destruction of property and lying to police about having written the song “Daniel.”

    Death was lying down in his room, pondering the stars and the universe, when he decided he needed a drink. He walked out into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. No sooner did he put the cup to his lips when the door of Brian’s room opened. A cloud of smoke plumed out the doorway and filled the entire apartment, trailing with it Brian and three very greasy looking Egyptian teenagers. The one closest to Brian, who had a mohawk and a sweatshirt that was four sizes too large for him, came face to face with Death and began sniffing his hair. Death reeled back into the cabinets, hitting his head.
    “Oh…yo,” said Brian vaguely, casting a glazed expression toward Death. “Uh, what’s up?”
    “Nothing really,” said Death. “Say, Brian, as a human, do you ever think about dying? Does every person think it’s all that bad? I mean, which would be worse, being dead or living forever while your mind deteriorates? Do you ever wonder if dying is really the enemy of humankind, or if it’s something to embrace, like an old friend? Does death make life that much more special, or is the prospect of it just too depressing?” Death was out of breath by the time he finished, but he was happy to get his musings out into the open.
    “Yeah,” said one of the Egyptians, a taller man with a ducktail haircut and square sunglasses. “Yeah, man. I always think about that.”
    “I..” started Brian, losing his train of thought as he stared at the ceiling. “Hey, Derek, someone called for you. Some chick named…uh…”
    Death raised an eyebrow and looked at Brian intently, eagerly waiting for him to finish. As Brian placed a finger on his chin and looked at nothing in particular, Death said hopefully, “Sheila?”
    “Sheila who?” asked Brian. He looked at one of his friends, who shrugged.
    “Was it Sheila who called?”
    “Wait, what?” asked Brian, leaning back and laughing. “Oh, yeah, that. Yeah it was Sheila. She called for you. Sheila.