Free Death in the City by Kyle Giroux Page A

Hm.”
    Brian led his friends to the couch where they all sat down and began listening to music on his laptop. “Yeah, dudes,” he said as the dreadful tunes ravaged Death’s eardrums. “In ten years, you wait. Drake is gonna be legendary. Our kids will listen to Drake and we can all say we were there when he was big.” As Brian’s friends nodded in agreement Death went back into his room and shut the door, muffling the inane noise. He dug Sheila’s number out of his jacket pocket and dialed it with shaking fingers and trembling internal organs.
    Three rings, then a loud “Hello?” from the other end.
    “Hi,” said Death. “Sheila? It’s Derek.”
    Sheila gasped loudly and as Death tried to quickly recover from being startled he heard Sheila drop the phone and scramble to pick it back up. “Oh my God, Derek it’s you! I knew you’d call back, I knew it. OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod!”
    Death laughed at Sheila’s wild antics, a quality he truly enjoyed. “Yup, it’s me. So I got your message from my roommate, and—“
    “ That was your roommate?” interjected Sheila. “He tried to sell me some sort of pizza with a ‘special topping.’ He’s wild!”
    “Yeah, he’s…something,” said Death.
    “But anyways,” started Sheila. Death could practically hear her bouncing around and throwing mad hand gestures into the air as she chuckled. “I wanted to see if you wanted to go to dinner with me.”
    “Oh,” said Death, “yes, of course.”
    “HURRAY!” screamed Sheila, making Death jump backwards. “I’ll make reservations at The Beehive for eight. Know where it is? It’s on Maine Street. Right next to that crappy FreePay place. Don’t be late, Dee-Dee.” And before Death could answer she hung up the phone noisily. Death hung up too, and suddenly he felt like dancing. A real date, with a real person. He was fitting into city life no problem now.
    In the evening, Death sat on the couch watching a Pirates baseball game with Brian. “Yeah, I know I’m from Boston, but I like all the Pittsburgh teams. Don’t know why,” said Brian as though Death had inquired about his choice of fandom. “I mean, the Sox games aren’t even that good. Fenway Park is, like, the worst. I’ve never actually been before, but my brother has, and he said it was terrible.”
    Death did not quite know what Brian was talking about, but he nodded anyways. He was too busy straightening out his suit nervously and thinking about how he was going to conduct conversation with Sheila. Finally, when Brian was in the middle of talking about best mixers for vodka, Death had to leave.
    “Remember to put on your rain jacket,” said Brian as Death took a step out the door.
    “Is it raining?” asked Death.
    “What? No,” said Brian enigmatically. Death shrugged and walked out the door.
    Soon Death was outside the Beehive at 7:45. “DEREK,” screamed Sheila, rounding the building and running towards Death with outstretched arms. Death sidestepped her as she ran past him. She turned around with her hands on her hips. “Hi, Derek, I’m so glad you made it are you hungry do you like my dress you look nice nice weather we’re having huh?”
    “Yes,” said Death. Sheila was wearing a blue dress that was far too small, and her round face was smiling as usual beneath her platinum blond hair.
    “Goody. Goody, goody, goody,” she said. “Well come on, let’s go in.”
    Death followed Sheila into the restaurant and they were led to a table next to the bathroom. The restaurant was circular with a large centerpiece that resembled a beehive. Death examined the odd piece before realizing that it actually was a gigantic nest of African honey bees, buzzing furiously around it and dive-bombing diners.
    Death and Sheila sat down, ordered drinks and bruschetta, and their date began.
    “So,” said Death, happy to be with Sheila again. “How have you been?”
    “Good, great,” said Sheila. She talked so quickly and animatedly, which