Death’s Door

Death and I are not on speaking terms. Not by a long shot.
See, the problem is, it keeps taking my friends. It took Michael first, the fucker, by taking him in his sleep like some old dude.
Then it took Jerry. I am still miffed about it.
And now it waits for me. I can see him standing in a corner, smoking a cigarette. It can, because it is Death. His lungs must be dead already, like the rest of him.
It took my Francis. Now that was a bloody blow to the head. Francis was younger than me, so he should have gone after me, chronologically speaking.
But nope. Died when I was 85.
I am almost 111 years old now. The banners are all ready in the Home, I saw them when they took me down for coffee. Bet they invited the Mayor too. The fucker always comes when there is tea and cake. Death will have a field day with him when it ‘s his time.
Death lights another cigarette with the other. It smiles.
If I were 20 years old instead of 111, and he was a human instead of an assface, I would have fallen head over heels for him. I mean, he is kinda hot. Tall, black eyes, dark hair, motor cycle jacket, jeans, Docs.
I would have fallen for him.
He moves forward, stands at the foot of my bed and says, Under my spell?
I laugh. No, dude. That ‘s too head first for a gentleman like me. Ah there you have it. Head over heels. That was what I was looking for.
You are welcome. And you never were a gentleman, my friend. I spit at him. We are no friends. You took all that I loved way before their time. Now I am going to let you wait for me.
Maybe I did so you would have enough time to write about them. I look at the stack of books beside my bed, and look back up at him. Assface.
Ready to join them? The banners are in the hallway, waiting for me to be 111. Can ‘t disappoint them. Death turns around and walks away, sashaying like a young Ru. He looks at me over his shoulder and winks. Sure about tea and cookies with the mayor, sexy?
Yes. Go. I wanna sleep.Going in your sleep is the best way to be taken by me.Oh sod off. Death leaves a slowly fading shadow of himself in the room.
I glance at the pack of cigarettes he left behind at the foot of the bed. No lighter.
I sit up in bed and think about the location of my lighter. I will be 111 in a couple of days. What better way to celebrate than with smoking? I look at Death ‘s empty space and whisper, Next time, bring the bourbon.
The empty space that once was Death laughs. Will that make you come with me?
Nope. Still pissed at you.Have it your way. Know you only need to knock on my door when you need me. Just like I was with your friends. I throw my pillow in his general direction, and then press the button for the young night nurse to pick it up for me.
He has a good ass.
Maybe tomorrow I will throw over my tin of pencils.

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