Note to reader:
***When I got the idea for this story, this was nowhere near what I had in mind. Somewhere in the first chapter I knew I had to make this a comedy. I've recently started writing Death Becomes Him (working title), which is going to be more dark. If you read them both, you may notice some similarities. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this.***
One on One with Death
Steve Jeffries didn't know what to think when he opened the door. The figure that stood in front of him looked like some preppy high school kid. When he politely introduced himself as Death and asked to come in, Steve opened the door and stepped aside.
"Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? I got Diet Dr. Pepper and beer," Steve said with a hint of amusement.
Death looked around at the apartment and could easily see how filthy it was. "I'm fine, thanks."
Steve smiled at the kid. "It's not every day I get to meet Death, what can I do for you?"
The kid clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing the living room. "I can see your skepticism, Mr. Jefferies."
"Please, call me Steve."
Death nodded. "I can assure you, Steve, that you are not the first to doubt me."
"What's to doubt," Steve said sarcastically. "You knock on my door in your khakis, button up shirt, and topsiders and tell me you're Death. Curiosity is the only reason I let you in."
The kid let out a sigh. "It doesn't seem to matter which form I take. Young or old, male or female, human or monster, people always doubt my presence at their door. I've found that a less threatening appearance makes my job a lot easier."
"Maybe you should have knocked on my door as a Girl Scout selling cookies. I love those Thin Mints," Steve joked.
Death instantly transformed into a ten year old blonde girl wearing a green uniform. A box of cookies clutched in her little hand. "Is this better?" she asked in an angelic voice. A second later, the most heinous looking demon stood before him. "Or maybe this?" The voice sounded like a combination of large cats fighting and Larry King. It was nauseating.
Steve turned away, successfully pushing back down the fried chicken TV dinner that threatened to reenter the world through the wrong orifice. When he regained his composure, he walked toward his sofa without looking at the demon.
"You may look again."
Steve knew even before he turned that he would see the original version of Death that he'd let into his apartment just a few minutes ago. The old second hand couch groaned as he sat down. "That's kinda cool. Can you make yourself turn into…I don't know…like, a naked celebrity?"
Death smiled and nodded. Steve was anxious until he saw the new form take shape. Regis Philbin, nude, stood proudly in front of him. "Oh man, that's just cruel and mean and oh god, no one should ever have to see that! What do you want from me?"
The preppy kid chuckled. "I've come to take you, of course."