15) Death's Favourite T-Shirt

Death didn’t really go in for metal or rock music, despite the fact that he was held in a high regard by these muscians. He thought it would be too cliché and besides it had given him a bad image in the past. He wanted a band shirt that said ‘Hey humanity, I’m a happy go lucky guy just like you. Think of me as the guy taking you to sweet salvation, not the guy who kills people. I don’t kill people, I just move their souls along to the next life.’

Satan scratched her goatee with her long black nails and gulped from her beer, the most evil of all alcoholic beverages. This was also another problem of Death’s. He hung out with the sort of people who had bad reputations, and thus their reputation rubbed off on them. Satan belched.

‘Okay. I don’t get it,’ she said, ‘But, for arguments sake, say I did understand why you wouldn’t wanted to be associated with death and all that jazz. Why did you choose that shirt?’

Death had picked out a black shirt from the merch stand at the last The Killers gig he attended. The shirt had ‘Killers’ written on it numerous times in green, white, blue, pink and yellow.

‘Everyone loves The Killers. You know, I’m Mr. Brightside. Ba-Da-da-dadadum-ba-da…you know what never mind I can’t sing.’

Death took a sip of his pina colada as Satan squashed her palm into her face.

‘Yes, but everyone loves sex and money too. I mean come on you have ‘killers’ scrawled all over your body. How much more associated with dying could you make yourself?’

Death picked his teeth with the pink umbrella stick from his drink. He sighed.

‘I just want to be liked,’ Death said, ‘For once I just want someone to be happy to see me.’

‘I’m always happy to see you,’ Satan said rubbing Death’s bony arm. Death’s jaw clicked as it curled into a smile. Satan continued; ‘Some things just won’t ever change I’m afraid. But if you want to show the world you like The Killers, then you go ahead and like The Killers.’

Death slammed his glass down, spilling coconut cream all over his hands. It was already sticky in the gaps between his sockets.

‘Thank you Satan, you always know how to cheer me up.’

Death got up from his bar stool: ‘Time to gather some more souls.’

‘Hey Death,’ Satan called just before Death left, ‘If Brandon Flowers dies, take that one to heaven. No way I’m having him down here.’