A Good October - Short Story
I got in the passenger seat of a car, and there sat Death ready to drive me off.
I don’t mean that as a metaphor, as to say that I am dying soon.
That my health has deteriorated and that my soul is leaving this world.
Or that many are going to be departed and buried soon.
That there may be much death and destruction on our planet.
That is not some language that you are supposed to read into and understand on another level.
There is no code there, no symbology.
None of that.
It was actually Death driving the car.
We hang on out sometimes.
He is a mean hockey player and has a nasty slap shot.
He loves to eat cheeseburgers. (too much, if you ask me)
And you wouldn’t expect it, but he knows a lot about the Byzantine Empire.
Once I started to talk about politics, and then somehow he got to bringing up that Empire.
I swear he finds a way to mention them.
Who is playing in the night’s baseball game?
Byzantines didn’t play baseball.
Who is running for office?
You know that the Byzantine Empire didn’t have elections.
What are you doing tonight?
I will not tell you my plans until I tell you a random fact about the Eastern part of the Roman Empire.
Why does he do this?
What fascinates Death about the Byzantine Empire so much?
I have no freaking idea.
I asked him once about this strange obsession, but he avoided the question by telling me that the Empire had more money than the western side, which is why it could survive longer.
When he isn’t transporting people to the other side, making sure that the proper souls go to heaven and hell, he isn’t that bad of a guy really.
Don’t ask me about his wardrobe or his lack of skin.
I told him to get it fixed, but he is pretty cool with his unusual attire at this point.
He says that he had a skeletal appearance since he was a kid, and he isn’t going to start changing now.
“It’s my look. It’s my thing. I can’t change it now. What do you want me to do, start to look like a clown?
Plus, it is very affordable.
I don’t have to take care of myself.
I don’t have to worry about gaining weight, going on a diet, or even getting a sunburn.
It is very convenient.
You all worry so much about your looks,
What is my BMI?
How many calories does that have?
How long can I stay in the sun?
But for me… I never worry about it at all…
I can’t worry about my skin if I don’t have any.”
Death is my friend and all, but boy, is he a strange one.
I guess I’d be a little off too if I had to deliver souls to the other side for a living.
“Where do you want to eat?” I asked, hoping that he wouldn’t say a burger place.
“I am in the mood for…”
“Don’t say cheeseburger.”
“I wasn’t.” He was.
“Wings?”
“Sure, even though I know that means you are going to get a burger there.”
“Don’t judge me.”
“I am judging, and I will continue to judge you.”
“Hey man, don’t mess with me. I know people.” He played around with the radio until he got to a song that I never heard of before. I didn’t even know the genre of the music, but apparently, it was popular.
“You know, October will be a good month.” He said.
“Why, because of Halloween? The time when people overeat candy and women dress like sluts.”
“There are many things that can make a month good. October will have one of these things. October will be a good month.”
“Did you get a raise or something?”
He repeated himself, “October will be a good month.”
I ignored him for a little bit, as I listened to the radio, not knowing whatever song was being played.
Should I know this song?
Am I not cool for not knowing this song?
Or am I some sort of rebel for being utterly oblivious to this song?
By never hearing it, I am declaring that I don’t listen to what I am told to listen to.
That I am not a mindless sheep.
So am I an uncool old fart that can’t keep up with the young guns, or am I a freethinking spirit that consumerism can’t bog down my independent thought?
Don’t’ ask me the name of the song, cause I still have no idea.
You are better off making up a name and an artist and then writing down a few rhymes, and you’d be closer to knowing the song than me.
I then went back to talking to Death.
“You know when you say that it is not comforting, because of who you are.”
Am I going to die in October?
Is he just happy about Halloween?
Are a lot of people going to die in October?
Is he just happy about Halloween?
Is something terrible going to happen in October?
Is he just happy about Halloween?
When Death says that something good will happen, you don’t really know how to take it.
Does he mean that something good will happen, or something bad will happen?
He has a warped view of goodness, so his declaration of it being present brings into question his perception.
“Care to elaborate on that?” I asked.
“Nah…” He said.
I shook my head. “You are really an asshole sometimes.”
“Yeah.. well. We’re here.
You think they are going to let us sit inside?”
“I doubt it.”
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Greg Luti is the Editor-In-Chief of this blog. He has never ridden in a car with Death, Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny. Although he has eaten a lot of cheeseburgers.
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