Death in the City by Kyle Giroux Read Free Book Online

heard of. Have you heard of An Horse? Didn’t think so. You wouldn’t know them, not when all you listen to is,” she threw her hands in the air and said mockingly, “Led Zeppelin.”
    “I…wow,” said Death, looking over the list again. “How about chewing gum?”
    “Disgusting. Next.”
    “Okay. Ah, here we go. Football. Do you like football?”
    “Football? Football ?” spat Eva. Death sighed. “Football is revolting. It’s just like war. All it does is promote competition and violence.”
    “What’s wrong with competition?” Death blurted out. Eva seethed.
    Edgar blew his whistle and Eva said, “So, hey, let me get your number down and maybe we can meet up later.” Death pretended he had not heard her and went to the next table.
    The night was looking like a downright failure for Death. He met a woman who said she loved Bourbon so much that she bathed in it, then said she only bought the cheap stuff because it got her extra drunk. Another woman, quite pretty, was so vapid that she only talked about her Italian leather purse, and when Death brought up ankle-high versus knee-high socks he had to explain what the difference was. A thin woman in a pale pink dress and blonde pigtails started to rant when Death brought up the disadvantages of big government, and tried to make plans with him to assassinate a public official. A younger woman in box-framed glasses and a lip ring tried to slap Death when he said he supported the second amendment (whatever that was), and a woman with a beard said she only liked puppies if they were on a burger bun. Finally Edgar blew his whistle and indicated that this was the last table. Hopeless, Death sat down and looked up.
    The woman sitting across from him was quite large--spherical in fact-- and dark orange from overtime hours at the tanning salon. Wrinkles spanned all across her young face. Her balloon-like hands sat neatly folded on the table in front of her. She had a gnarled nose and slightly crossed eyes beneath a mane of bleached blonde hair. Her yellow smile was warm and inviting, and Death found comfort in his final chance.
    “Hi,” said Death. “My name’s Derek.”
    “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Sheila.”
    “Sheila, okay, great,” said Death. He fumbled with the napkin as he unfolded it on the table. “Well, Sheila, how do you feel about…puppies?” He closed his eyes in anticipation.
    “Puppies? I LOVE them,” she squealed. Death opened his eyes and laughed at Sheila’s broad smile.
    “Love them? Really?” asked Death in disbelief.
    “Yeah, I used to have a little chow,” said Sheila. “He lived with me when I was a kid, in Longfellow, Indiana. It’s a small town, kinda ghetto, you know?” Death nodded his head, intrigued. “I was always, like, the rebel child, you know? My mom always tried to tell me what to do, and I was always, like, no, you know?”
    “Yeah,” said Death. “Yeah, of course.”
    “I mean, she didn’t even like my hair, but I was like, ‘oh yeah, well whatever.’ You know?”
    “I know,” said Death, smiling. “Well, how about…uh…bean dip? Do you like it better than onion dip?”
    “Oh my god,” screeched Sheila. Death found all eyes upon his table again, but this time he was a little less self-conscious about it. “I love any kind of dip.” She did three quick little claps with her hands and let out a deep, satisfied sigh.
    “Me too,” said Death. “Onion dip is pretty good, but bean is good too, you know?”
    “I know, I know,” said Sheila, nodding energetically. “Know what else I like?” She leaned over the table, pushing the other end into Death’s gut, and said quietly, “Beef jerky.”
    “Me too,” gasped Death, clutching his stomach. Although he had never had beef jerky before, he was too caught up in the moment enjoying Sheila’s enthusiasm.
    “Oh, Derek, this is the absolute best date,” said Sheila, throwing her heavy arms in the air. “I just gotta get a few vodka