Death Warmed Over 2
Done with work for the day, Death unlocked the door to his efficiency apartment.
Being a little over 12 ft long and 6 ft wide, it wasn’t very big, but it had everything one would need. It had a small bed which he wished was a little bigger, as his feet hung over the end every night. There was a hot plate, a microwave, and a small fridge.
Death disrobed and hung his heavy woolen cloak on the clothes tree next to the scythe he had leaned against the wall as he walked in the door. As he took the few steps toward the hot plate to put the kettle on for some ramen, he noticed that his plant had died.
He had the worst time keeping plants alive. He wasn’t sure if it was because there was practically no sunlight—just a single beam in the morning—or if he was overwatering it. He made a mental note to check social media later for tips on keeping small plants alive. Since pets weren’t allowed in the building, a plant was the closest thing he could get to companionship.
He poured the boiling water into his cup of ramen and waited for the noodles to soften. Just as he was ready to eat, there was a loud knock on his wall.
It was his neighbor, whom he had never actually seen face to face. A quick check of the ledger when he first moved in revealed the man was unfortunately going to live a long life despite his heavy alcohol consumption. Jeff wasn’t going to pass from cirrhosis, or from falling down and hitting his head in a drunken stupor; he was going to die of old age.
Death was always amazed by that. People didn’t die like they should, and they always died like no one expected. Have cancer and expect to die from it? Nope, you get hit by a car. Live a super healthy life, exercise, and do all the right things? You have a heart attack in your thirties.
At least it kept the job somewhat interesting, but it still got boring. He never got the good assignments like war casualties or high profile crimes. Nope, always a neighbor named Jeff who drinks too much and dies old.
“Hey, hey neighbor!” Jeff called out through the thin wall. “I’m short on rent. You wouldn’t happen to be able to float me some extra bucks this month?”
Death sighed. This would be the 6th month in a row Jeff had asked for money.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much, Jeff, and then you would have some money for your rent,” Death said back to the wall. “But yeah, I’ll go pay it.”
“Thanks buddy! You’re the best neighbor ever!”
Death chuckled quietly to himself as he pulled off his ramen lid. If only Jeff knew.
