Death & Beatrice

Part 1: The death of a girl and the start of an eternity

Part 1: The death of a girl and the start of an eternity

"Okay okay okay," the curvy girl said, hardly able to contain the laughter from within her, "I got another story."

"For the last time, Beatrice..." Death said, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white, "I want nothing to do with your bull shit stories."

"Oooh fuf," she said, tossing her hair behind her shoulders, "Once there was a magical kingdom called Taco Bell...."

"Oh God...."

"And in Taco Bell there was a magical princess, named Princess Beatrice! She ate soooo many tacos that even the dragons vomited, but this did not phase her. She was so very, very fat, that one day the taco god came to her and said,

"'Hey there, you're pretty fat,' and she said,

"'I know'. And they made out and had hundreads of taco babiestheend!!!" B overdramaticized the ending with extravegant hand motions that hit Death more than once in the face.

"That was horrible," said Death, trying to keep his eyes solely on the road.

"Dawwww, you loved it!" she said, kicking her shoes off and resting her feet on the dashboard. Death groaned, and cursed himself for ever having tried to collect this girl's soul. He remembered it like it was yesterday... probably because it was yesterday.

Flashback

Beatrice tromped along the sidewalk, worrying about the chemistry exam that she had cramed for the night before. School was such a bore, and she would much rather be at home playing Xbox or watching recorded [adult swim] shows. At least the weather was perfect.

So deep in thought was she, that it hadn't occured to her that she was walking right in the middle of a crosswalk during a green light.

A little ways down the road (but not much) a schoolbus driver was obnoxiously talking on the phone with a friend, paying little attention to the road whilst the children reeked havoc in the back. All of a sudden, the bus driver hit something crossing the crosswalk, and a scream louder than all of the kids on the bus met her ears. She slammed on the brakes and exited the bus with immidate haste, only to see a dead Beatrice lying in a spreading pool of her own blood.

Unable to hold it in, the guilty bus driver keeled over to the side and pucked up her breakfast.

B looked around, making a face at the puking bus driver. What the hell was she so worked up about anyway? Something told B to look down, so she did, and jumped back in suprise.

"...Da fuq...?" she whispered softly, her eyes growing wide.

"Yep, that's right. You're dead, Beatrice Thompson. Time to go, c'mon." She slowly turned around to see a semi-tall guy in a black hoodie, holding a heavily upgraded looking scythe. Death.

"But I can't die yet!" she said, sweat starting to run down her brow.

"Yep, that's what they all say-"

"I HAVN'T FINISHED MY FANFICTION!!!" the girl said, grabbing his hoodie and shaking him. He looked very shocked behind his pulled-up hood, then rather confused.

"Your... what?" he asked. No one had said this before.

"My fanfiction," B said, beginning to realise that this might save her life, "It's where you write what you want to happed to characters that have already been invented. It's the closest thing to drugs that mom has ever allowed me to get addicted to."