Death in the City Read Online Free PDF Page A

markets, trade agreements, credit unions, CDs? Do you know anything about 401Ks or even the income limits of a traditional IRA?” The man stared at Death, panting lightly.
    “No,” said Death slowly. “But I used to play the fiddle.”
    “So you want me to hire you when you have absolutely no knowledge or experience whatsoever?”
    “Yeah, I guess so.”

    Death soon found himself searching on Maine Street again. He walked into a bakery and was greeted by a large, very jolly woman who hired him on the spot. He only spent forty minutes there before, under his watch, the oven caught fire and exploded. The ice cream stand he walked into was run by several teenage girls who called the police on him because they thought he had “malicious intentions.” Two hours later the cruisers were gone, and he moved onward.
    Death began to lose hope. The very last building before Maine Street turned into Ernie Way was the local supermarket, FreePay Brothers. The day was growing dark and the letters on the façade of the building were glowing bright red, but the large F was burnt out, so it just read “REEPAY BROS.” Death looked at a “Help Wanted” sign in the window and saw it as his last hope.
    Before Death walked into the supermarket, he saw a very old man in grey, grungy, patched clothing standing outside the door. On his head was a ragged black winter hat (despite the relative warmth of the summer evening) under which grey stringy hair sprouted over a twisted and unshaven face. In a gloved hand he held a battered tin cup, which he shook back and forth at Death.
    “Uh, oh dear,” said Death. “Do I need to pay?” He shuffled around in his pockets nervously.
    The man looked confused. “Do you have money to spare?” he asked in a gruff voice.
    “No,” said Death automatically. “No, I don’t.”
    “You gotta have something in that nice suit of yours,” said the man, peering up and down Death’s outfit.
    “I honestly don’t, but I should soon,” said Death. “I’m about to get a job right now.”
    “Okay. Bless you, sir,” said the man, and Death walked into the supermarket.
    People rarely die while in supermarkets, so Death was in awe when he walked through the door. Before him stood aisles and aisles of food racks bathed in fluorescent lighting that blotted out the darkening natural sky. Death walked up to the customer assistance desk and was greeted by a smiling old woman in a mauve smock.
    “Hi,” said Death. “I’m here to ask about getting a job.”
    “Oh, great,” said the woman happily. “Just fill out this form and—“
    “Wait, did I hear someone say they wanted a job?” said a voice from behind Death. He turned around to see a very tall and bulky man walking towards him. “You, did you need a job?” he sounded stressed, but his voice was bright and effeminate.
    “Yes,” said Death. “I need a job, a man told me to get one. Are you hiring?”
    “Well we are busy as all hell and we need as much help as we can get right now,” said the man, waving his hand towards Death. “Can you start right now?”
    “Well, I guess,” said Death. “But don’t you want to…you know, ask me random questions about stuff? Like how much experience I have?”
    “Sure, how much experience do you have?” asked the man.
    “None, I guess,” said Death, shrugging.
    “Okay, you’re hired,” said the man. “My name is Bobby Carter and I’m the deli manager here. Follow me, come get your apron and we’ll get to work.”
    Bobby Carter led Death to the back of the store, where the deli was located. A big glass case with a variety of meats and cheeses was almost entirely obscured by a large group of shoppers shoving each other about, shouting out their orders. A lone man, very old and tired looking, stood behind the counter cutting meats slowly and precisely as the crowd raged behind him.
    “Hey, Al, you want to pick up the pace a little? These people are waiting, hello ,” said Bobby. The man named