Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Death Takes A Holiday - Part 1

What is better than writing FOR Trifectans? Writing WITH your fellow Trifectans and good friends. I was lucky enough to be brought into this plan with two people who make me laugh on a daily basis, El Guapo and Michele at ODNT. We decided to use this week's prompt to our advantage and create three connected scenarios for what (based on the word and definition given) could be a very dark piece. Turns out, when you give this word and definition to three goofballs, silliness is what you get. 

Although our responses can stand on their own, they also complement one another's nicely. I highly recommend you also visit their blog posts. You won't regret it! Enjoy!



This week's word is:
DEATH
3 capitalized : the destroyer of life represented usually as a skeleton with a scythe



Death Takes A Holiday - Part 1

Death paced impatiently as his accountant and friend,George, finished his daily totaling of numbers.

“We’re hitting a high this month.”

“Well, it is October.” Death reasoned. “And where’s Nausea?  He’s  twenty minutes late.”

Nausea appeared on cue. “I’ve been working overtime, Boss.”

“You’ll be compensated. But it’s time to go. Give the poor soul you’re working with a break. We’ve got plans.”

“Wait. You’ve been summoned. She keeps muttering things like,  ‘Kill me now and Death is coming.’ I came right over to find you.”

“All women say that during their first trimester. “ Death mumbled.

“One quick look? Please?.”

Knowing Nausea was a persistent fellow, Death begrudgingly grabbed his scythe and let out a fetor that would make a corpse cry.

“We’ll be back, George. Get the cooler packed. I have a feeling I’m going to need a few extra beverages after this one.”

Nausea snatched a Popsicle for the ride and off they went in a swirl of black mist. The woman lay there, clutching the sides the toilet, groaning in between her dry heaves. Begging for mercy, Death looked down upon her. Nausea slurped at the Popsicle,  clumsily spilling blood red drops on the laminate flooring.

“See, Boss? She’s dying here.”

“No.” Death stated flatly. “She isn’t. The living dramatize their reality. It’s overkill. Release your hold so we can all enjoy our day.”

And with a flick of his hand, the woman lifted her head out of the toilet, took a deep breath and pushed herself up. Just then, her foot slipped on the Popsicle drippings. In an instant, she fell back and split her head on the edge of the tub.

“Oh for crying out loud. Clean up that mess.” Death lazily pointed at the now smeared droplets.

He waved his scythe over her, taming the stream of blood flowing freely from the crack in her skull. Nausea turned to see Death as he sealed the final opening.

“She’s carrying precious cargo. Besides, we're taking a day off.”

17 comments:

  1. I like the beginning of this piece, you've created unique characters. Off to read the other two parts.

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  2. lol this is so...random xD I like it. *off to next part*

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  3. Funny, clever, well thought out. I'm off to the next two.

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  4. The popsicle was genius. Nausea. What a dumb ass.

    How much fun was our little game? Thanks for roping me in. Very well done, my friend.

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  5. I love that these "spirits" have specialties, death and nausea. How clever and interesting! I'm hoping there's no spirit for toenail fungus!! This was great. Ok, I'm going to see the others right now.

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  6. I think Death is more concerned about his day off then the precious cargo...
    You nailed this one! Definitely a point scored for the goofballs.

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  7. Loved the red Popsicle! Yep, Death is more concerned with his day off. Love the characters so I must go read the other parts. Very fun!

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  8. Precious cargo...you mean the hot pants?
    Arrrr the hot pants.

    Great set up! reading the others!

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  9. i really enjoyed your tale in three parts!

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  10. I'm on my way to read part three. I enjoyed your part fun project.

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  11. Great job with the collaboration, guys! I love that you gave us three different voices in one fantastic story. My son slipped in the tub and cracked his head open when he was three. This, ummm, brought me right back there. Gory. 22 stitches later, and he's fine. Because, I'm assuming, he's precious cargo. :-) Great job with the prompt!!

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  12. This had me smiling! Very cleverly written! :)

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