By Tim Hoppe
Jerry drove off, rather in a huff, his tires screeching as his jeep rounded a hard left out of the driveway. But no one inside the house heard, the blasting music drowned out both tires and tears. Lucy closed the front door, after his taillights were lost in the distance.
Her eyes mapped out the route to the bar in the basement, and for the remainder of the night, there she camped. At the bars end, under a dark and brooding figure stood a stubby glass of tonic water, untouched.
Death, unlike the other guests, never wears a nametag to parties, his subtle attempt at remaining incognito, fools only the unwary. The Sickler reached out with long bony fingers to his tonic water. Death reminded himself he was always on duty. He pushed the drink away from himself. The glass tumbled back behind the bar to an explosion of crystal and cubes. Death had already reseated, next to Lucy, by the time she and Frank Behind the bar, looked up.
Lucy uncorked the bottle before her, and despite the sudden company, began her race from the starting line at sobriety, to a drunken stupor. With no sign of Lucy pausing or slowing, Death began to anticipate the inevitable conclusion.
Frank, a jester and a champion, boldly scoffed death any time the opportunity arose. As much as he would enjoy frustrating death, he was concerned for Lucy's well being. From under the counter, at each of Lucy's new demands for "another one" he would produce a refilled bottle concocted of mostly water and food coloring. Lucy, not a connoisseur to begin with, was beyond the point of noticing. She kept going, and thanks to Frank remained in sight of the starting line.
Death began to get Impatient, even frustrated. How could a petite waif like Lucy still be drinking, something ought to have happen by now. Lucy stood, and with some trouble made her way to the ladies room. Death however macabre, was at least a gentleman, and did not follow her. He knew instinctively she was nowhere near the point of crossing. He would wait for her return at the bar.
And wait. And Wait. In fact Lucy never returned. On her departure from the restroom, Jerry was waiting with flowers and an apology. Death was none the wiser, as he ordered this time a fresh drink. It was served it to him in a plastic cup, half full, and mostly ice. One cube had a frozen worm in the middle.
Frank secured himself a bowl of peanuts and began to pass the time perilously close to the agitated reaper. His hands performed their tricks sending peanuts flying into the air. One, two, three at a time. With Death distracted, Jerry directed Lucy out the door. The Flowers passed from one guest to the next till somebody just dumped them on the counter of the bar. Death looked up suddenly aware his quarry had eluded him. Frank made his move, he threw his torso onto the bar top coughing and motioning to his throat. Death spun around, he didn�t feel this one coming. Death tensed in anticipation of a new victim, he stood up to his full seven feet and downed his drink, ice and all. With at thud frank fell behind the bar and out of sight. Death reached for his sickle and the bars end. But just as he reached it, he heard laughter. Frank climbed back onto his feet laughing hysterically. The Joke caught on and shortly everyone at the party joined in. Everyone was laughing, except Death, who stomped out the door, in a huff and slightly dizzy. With a cold finger he reached out for the household parakeet on his way out. (There are rules and regulations concerning the collection of people, but animals are fair game, they don�t get taxed in the afterlife either.)
On his walk home Death kept thinking �that wasn�t water�, then kept forgetting he had just thought that.
12:19 p.m. - 2003-10-10