Good Luck, Sleep Well

“You see, Death & I have an understanding."

"Oh? Do tell..."

"When it came time for me to go softly into that goodnight, I didn't accept it. No, I didn't beg, plead, or bargain. Nor did I argue or lobby or hurl empty threats. I just said 'So… What do you think about West Ham United?' Ridiculous, I know, but for whatever reason that's what jumped into my soon-to-be-expired mind. It turns out Death happens to be a big soccer fan. Like, seriously. He...she...it... I'm not really sure what gender to ascribe, nor does it really matter I guess, but Death loves football. Apparently since forever ago people have been kicking around rocks or some shit which eventually turned into soccer or football or whatever you want to call it, and Death has been paying attention to it ever since. So in lieu of shuffling off this mortal coil, Death & I are in the middle of a conversation about West Ham United. The thing about Death is conversations take a long time. A very, very long time. Because a lifetime for us, my dear, is nothing but a single tick of the grand cosmic clock for good ole' Dee here. Death also happens to be a busy entity, you know with all that soul collecting and all. So we pick up our conversation as scheduling allows..."

"Wait a minute. I have two questions."

"Just two?"

"Yes. The first being what happens to you when Death is done discussing football with you?"

"I'm pretty sure I'll turn to dust. Where my soul ends up is anybody's guess."

"Two... who does Death root for?"

Christmas, 2014: A Fairytale Of New York.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone.

"The madness overtook me, they claimed.

I was never more lucid than I was that day.

Now everything is different.

I made it that way.

"I don't know how to dance."

"It's easy. Put on some music and move."

She wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

"Move how? And to what?" I stammered.

"It does not matter, you silly bastard." Red had a way to sound both stern and playful at the same time. It made it hard to resist going along with whatever flight of fancy she was on about.

"Pick a record. Any record."

I went over to the rack on the far wall that held my record collection. Red never figured out my method of organization. It wasn't alphabetical. It was geographical, with slight detours for the sake of cross-referencing. She just thought I was a funny, somewhat disorganized mess.

I went right for the shelf space I knew to be "Minneapolis" and pulled a record out of the tightly compressed row of aging vinyl. The album was Tim, by the Replacements. I figured if I grabbed something mellow Red would see right through my feeble attempt to avoid tripping the light fantastic to any great degree by doing that most-basic of boogie down services: the slow-dance sway. If I could just get to the turntable and "accidentally" drop the needle on "Swingin' Party" all would be fine...

"That'll do!" Red snapped. She plundered the platter away from my sweaty, nervous hands and plunked it down on the turntable. Side one, song one: "Hold My Life". She jumped up on the couch and extended her hand to mine.

"Shall we dance, or will you leave here guessing what could have been?"

This is a picture of Jack Skellington, Zero, Batman, Edward Scissorhands, Elvis Presley & The Joker dancing around right after they handed out American flags, Zagnut bars and Hawaiian leis.

Yes, this actually happened tonight.

"The Apocalypse came not with a bomb, but with a cough. The virus was aggressive, the impact immediate. A coughing fit, followed by intense convulsions and ultimately exsanguination through all available exit routes. It was neither pretty nor painless, the only luxury QE-NE3 (commonly referred to as "The Q Virus") afforded you was a quick demise. 

"Our path was set before us. We knew some of us would not make it back. The Goar was still out there, and there is a price to be paid for ensnaring one. Our god would not abide this changeling to walk unfettered any longer, though it would seem our deity had no sway over this beast. We had but until daybreak to ascertain and envelope this treacherous cretin, for at first light all traces of this malformed creation would fade from sight. It's visible only during the small hours and by natural flame.

It has eluded us for too long, and I want my Jennie back."