Dinner

She was just deciding the most convenient position to die in when It opened the door.
Hello. I think we have an appointment. Let’s see...
It consulted a ridiculously long list. Yeah, I know, It said apologetically. I’ve been pushing to get it computerized, but they insist it be done the old-fashioned way. Something about keeping the old traditions but I personally think They just like it for dramatic flair. C’s, C’s, C’s… ah, here it is. Catherine Ceriy?
“Yeah.”
You’re supposed to die at 2:34 am. What’s the time? And then - What? I don’t have the time to check the time, if you will. Can’t even get a proper watch. Too many clients.
She glanced at the clock. 1:30 am.
“You’re early, I think.”
Ah well, might as well come back. It paused. Or maybe we could have some dinner. I haven’t eaten since WWII, and I’m starving.
“Dinner?” she asked.
Yeah. Your very last meal. I also have one of my assistants with me. You can join us. I can afford not tending to my other clients for half an hour; it’s not like they’re going anywhere.
It chuckled at the little joke It had made, while she shifted uncomfortably in the polyester sheets on the hospital bed.
Dinner with the Grim Reaper. She would never get another chance.
“Yeah, sure, why not?”
**
It was a rather cheerful affair, considering the context surrounding it. Candles burned brightly (though without warmth) in their holders. They had even managed to get a chandelier. Even the food was cheerful - all bright colors and smells.
Catherine had managed to make a decent meal, despite the pain in her side and the fact that she was sharing the dinner table with Death itself, plus his assistant Homicide.
There was wine. What the hell, she thought. I’m not going to live long anyways.
“So.”
They looked at her expectantly.
Yes?
“You eat like… normal food and stuff?”
She watched the bony arms snatch a slice of apple.
No, of course not. I just like human food because it tastes good.
“What do you eat then?”
It shrugged. Souls, mostly. The bad ones that They’re done playing with and can no longer elicit any sort of reaction from. It’s actually kind of insulting really, using me as a garbage disposal. Ah well. It’s delicious anyway. I think Homicide eats the pedophiles. I don’t like them myself, but it’s an acquired taste.
THEY’RE GOOD, Homicide said. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU PUT THE WHAT DO YOU CALL IT SAUCE ON THEM… YEAH. KETCHUP.
Pedos aren't really healthy for you, It admonished. You’re going to be really out of shape when anarchy comes back in style.
WHATEVER.
This exchange, which would’ve terrified Catherine before, had no effect whatsoever. A strange sort of calm was settling over her, soothing her emotions, which normally would’ve been up on the sofa clawing out the pillows, like an angry cat. Perhaps it was her impending death.
Any new clients? It asked Homicide.
YEAH, Homicide replied. SOME ASSHOLE WAS TRYING TO KILL THE FAMILY DOG IN A DRUNKEN RAGE AND SHOT ONE OF HIS KIDS INSTEAD. THE REST OF THE FAMILY IS ALRIGHT. HEY, MAYBE YOU COULD EAT THE KID. HE WAS A BIT OF A PSYCHOPATH.
Nah, I have a policy against children. Can’t have the controversy, you know. Lotta people up there who want me out.
A loud gong sounded, startling all three of them.
Ah shit, have to go. I think someone died early. Nice meeting you, Catherine. It stuck out its hand. She took it gingerly, afraid she was breaking some sort of rule by touching such an otherworldly entity.
Its hand felt like a hand.
Homicide nodded to her. GOODBYE, THEN. I’LL BE AROUND SOMETIME. MIGHT BE SOME DOMESTIC VIOLENCE GOING AROUND IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD. YOU KNOW, IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE THESE THINGS REALLY BLOW UP -
Gotta go, It said, hurriedly cutting Homicide off. They disappeared in a shower of golden light, and it was only a few minutes later that she realized it was 2:36 am.
They’d forgotten to take her.