Death

I'm Absolutely Certain That You Don't Need A College Diploma To Be King Of Death

"Hello mister king of death sir," I said, closing my eyes and bowing as I walked in. I was interrupted by the sound of crunching. I knew that crunching. It was the sound of chips being ground to manageable pieces under a set of reasonably strong teeth. How glorious the sound was when coming from me!

Okay, I do eat chips. However, at this point I'm sure I'm just being dramatic. Right? Ha. Ha. I didn't identify the strength of his teeth from the crunching sound they were making... Or anything... You know what, I'll let my younger self put her foot in her mouth instead.

"Hello, demi-human," a deep voice said from the direction of the throne. I gulped and looked up. The King of Death had his feet over one of his throne's armrests and his head dangling over the other. He was certainly not the personification of death. Although, Fiery-Eyes hadn't been what I was expecting either.

The King of Death had whitish-blue hair and looked a bit older than me. In his lap was a bag of Lays potato chips. His eyes were closed as he savored the taste. I gulped, but for a reason other than fear. I was hungry.

"Um, can I have a chip?" I asked. He pulled it to his chest and pouted.

"No. My chips," he said, sticking his tongue out at me. He had opened his eyes. His irises were black, looking deep for some reason. His eyes looked like they went beneath the surface. I mean, eyes do that, since they're not flat, but I mean... Oh well, they were a sort of creepy inky black.

She's even more awkward than me, if that's possible.

"What do you want me here for?" I asked, getting around to the main topic of my visit.

She makes it sound like I was on a vacation. Oh, where are you going this summer, Mort? Just to Hell, Ness! Honestly, I doubt anybody would be surprised.

"Oh, right. Well, I'm Pluto, and, uh, welcome to Hell, I guess? Oh, I remember now!" he exclaimed. I nodded slowly. He was completely nuts.

Like you can talk, Miss Mortician.

He cleared his throat. When he spoke, it sounded rehearsed, as if he was reciting a speech someone else had written. "We of Hell recruited you, Mortician, daughter of a soldier of Hell and a human, to be our trump card, our weapon, in our ongoing war with our enemies. You are Desirable Number Two. As a demi-human, your powers are different than those of a reaper, and we need you," he said.

Not to be VAGUE or anything, right?

"Um, I'm good," I decided. "I'm not really interested in being a weapon, so if you could just get Eyes to drop me back at home, I have a life to get back to."

Pluto turned around, crumpling his chip bag and tossing it to the floor, where it disappeared. He leaned forward and, all of a sudden, looked more regal and kingly. "There won't be a home for you to go back to if we lose," he said impressively. After a few moments of silence, he burst out laughing and jumped off of the throne. "Sorry. I can't do that sort of thing! It doesn't matter to your life at all if we win or lose. Souls will be collected, just not by us. It's pure selfishness, really," he said.

Is this guy on his own side at all? Really, he's not helping his case at all. I can't believe I agreed! Oh, I just spoiled that, did I? Like you didn't see that coming! What kind of a story would it be if they let me go home?

"So, uh, can I leave?" I asked hopefully.

Yeah, she doesn't know that this is a story yet. She doesn't know about the conditions that must be met. She doesn't know that she has to be interesting. Hey, you! Maybe turn it up a notch? You're not interesting the readers enough!

"No, sorry. I mean, I don't want to do this, you seem nice, but I'm going to have to keep you here until you agree. Unfortunately, this King title is just for show... I'm the king, but I have to bend to the will of the people. It's really a democracy. Since when is Hell a democracy? Death is the great equalizer, I guess. That's the slogan of the Democratists here. 'How can death be the great equalizer without equal rights?'  There are equal rights, but they want it to be more and more equal," he complained.

I looked at him skeptically.  "I.  Don't.  Care," I said, clearly enunciating the words.  He was not what I had expected from the King of Hell. When his face fell, I felt slightly guilty for some reason. Why did I have to be guilty? He was the crazy nightmarish king burdening me with all of his problems!

I gave him a cold, haughty look, and he sighed. "Well, you can't leave," he said. I sighed.

"Okay, this could be fun," I said, trying to look on the bright side. I was in a world filled with death! That was good. And... Well... Nothing else, really.

How about the fact that you're not dead, you idiot! That's a good thing! Now hurry up and give in, this is getting tiresome.

"Alright, I'll be your weapon or whatever," I said, rolling my eyes. He looked excited. I held up my finger. "But! I have a few conditions. First off, I want a constant supply of gum. I don't care what flavor, as long as it's Dubble Bubble. Next, I want to be able to have some choice in the matter of when I train, where I go, all of that good stuff. Lastly, I need Fiery Eyes to be my instructor," I said, crossing my arms.

He nodded. "Okay, that's fine, I guess. I have tons of gum, but it's only original flavor. Fiery Eyes, seeing as she was the one who recruited you, will have the honor of being your trainer anyway. And I suppose I can arrange the choice or whatever," he said.

"Why me?  Other reapers must have had kids and stuff, right?" I asked.

"Well, not really.  It's sort of forbidden?  Not my law, it's the Council.  Those righteous sons of hell hounds!  Anyway, even though the demi-humans are super powerful and will save us and all that, they disapprove of inter-species mingling and want to kill all of the..." his voice trailed off as he stared at me.

"They want to kill me?" I exclaimed.  "Now I really want to go home," I muttered.  "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

He looked apologetic.  "There's a group of crazy purists that want to kill you?" he said.  I rolled my eyes.

"Thanks a lot.  You wouldn't have told me if you hadn't accidentally let it slip," I accused.  He didn't try to deny it.

"Anyway, go train.  It'll be fun," he said, giving me an evil smile.  I had my doubts about that.

Yeah, really.  Of course somebody wants to kill you!  It wouldn't be a story if they didn't.  I'm afraid being a main character in a fiction book is a full-time, risky job.  You might die!  But rest assured, if you do, you'll most likely come back.  They don't usually kill off characters until the end of a series.  Depends if there's a sequel, I guess.  Look out towards the end!

Oh wait, I forgot, you're me.  You probably won't die.  Unless I'm dead... Ooooh....