The Stalker, continued

Continued from 11/8/07:

Death couldn’t believe the dumb luck. It must be April’s lucky day. Too bad she would not get to appreciate it for long.

Death sighed. Actually, he swore a blue streak. He could not believe that this idiot was going to ruin his afternoon at the beach! Not only that, but he was already behind on his claims for the day and he may never get a chance to catch up. He may have to work on the weekend and there was nothing that Death’s minions hated more than working on the weekend. He was getting mad and as such, he was taking off the gloves. So much for quick and painless- this time she would know what hit her. She would feel the pain and know that her last moments were ebbing from her soon to be lifeless body and that there was nothing she could do about it.

Upon her hurried arrival at work, April ran for the door, hoping to get to her cube unnoticed. Once there, with the computer on, she could pretend that she had been there for an hour already, and then casually go out to get a coffee refill. No one would realize that it was her first cup and that every cell of her being was screaming for its morning caffeine fix.

Death was way ahead of her. What are the best ways to die at work? Scalded to death by coffee? Too messy. Lightning strike through the window? Seems farfetched but he may be able to swing it. A raging pack of pit bulls? Maybe later, on her lunch break, but this had to be over by then. Electrocuted by a chamomile tea-dipped iPod headphone? Not sure that would do anything but make her ear sticky. Carbon monoxide leak? That would work, if he wanted big numbers, but frankly it seemed wasteful to take so many when you just want the one. Something creative. He was mad and now he wanted to get even with the pain of her death. THINK.

April was sitting quietly at her desk, after getting her coffee and downing some Benadryl for a runny nose. She was a hypochondriac and kept a drawer full of medicine at her desk, just in case. This made her popular with the meth-making cleaning crowd, as they could no longer buy some of the drugs, but they could lift hers when they were ready to cook a new batch. She had noticed the disappearance of her drugs, and had taken to buying in bulk and having a secret, backup drug drawer to make sure she always had whatever she could possibly need.

After carefully reviewing her Human Resources and medical records, Death saw the perfect solution. The file cabinets were dusty and everyone in HR was asleep at their desks (though frankly it was hard to tell the difference), so no one noticed the ball of shadows moving stealthily through the department and then rifling through the personnel files. Because he had once, still in human form, been fired by HR, he took the opportunity of their ‘team meeting’ to draw mustaches on each of their faces with different colored sharpies.

April was pretending to work, while actually surfing the Entertainment Tonight site. She was addicted; she was willing to admit it. But she wouldn’t admit it to her boss. And when she heard his polyester pant legs rubbing together as he waddled in her direction, she hit Alt + Tab so fast that the spreadsheet she flipped to was dizzy. She heard a buzzing coming toward her, as well as the polyester pants and she smelled smoke- probably from all of those polyesters being tormented by the friction of the round dwarf’s forward motion.

Between the buzzing and the wisp of smoke, April froze for a moment, trying to piece together what was going on. Only as she watched the bee sting her hand, leave its stinger and fall dead to her desk, did she realize that the sensory overload was brought on by independent events. Once she determined that, she wondered how a bee got in the office in December. Only then did she remember that she is allergic to bee stings. And she started to panic.

She had heard and read all the warnings about bee stings and anaphylaxis and made it a habit to never go outside in the summer during daytime in order to avoid the possibility of meeting up with a stinging insect that could kill her. As her mind raced, her body acted in slow motion, or more accurately no motion at all. April could see her funeral, she could see how sad her dogs would be without her to bake cookies for them each night and she could see her parents spending her life insurance policy on a combination of cruises and TV infomercials. Her breath was ragged, she was struggling to breathe, it was getting harder and harder to get the air into her lungs, when he boss (known as Dumpy in the coffee room) rounded the corner and stared at her.

“Why are you sitting at your desk sobbing when there’s work to do? That spreadsheet isn’t going to fill itself in with useless numbers, you know.”

April blinked. She realized she couldn’t breathe because she was crying while trying to vocalize her will (she had never written one down), in case anyone was recording her last moments, not because her airway had swelled up. Her hand had hardly swelled from the sting and she removed the stinger, still unable to believe that she had been stung and lived to tell about it. She was definitely going to get a Snickers bar to celebrate her good fortune. Maybe two. And she would definitely make Benadryl part of the daily preventative cocktail- apparently you can never be too careful.

Death sat steaming in the window. Trying to figure out why this woman just could not be killed. The stakes were getting higher and she just would not cooperate. Die already, dammitt! I have things to do- I don’t have all day to spend trying to kill your sorry self. He wished he had the power to speak, maybe if he could explain it to her, she’d let him take her. But alas, in exchange for omnipotence and the power to take life, one had to give up assuming a visible form and the gift of speech.

Death reviewed the options. Are we up to Plan D now? He had almost never had to go to Plan C before, and now he had to think of Plan D? Plan D had better work, as Death, never a good student, wasn’t sure which letter followed D in the alphabet and just might have to give up after this attempt if he couldn’t figure it out.

April sat at her desk, eyes and cheeks still red, but now with chocolate smeared on her chin. She was counting her blessings and swearing to herself that she wouldn’t take anything for granted anymore. She would be a better person. She would stop kicking the homeless guy in front of her house each morning as she headed out. She would stop baiting the neighbor’s cats into her garage so her dogs could play with them. Really she would be a better person with her new lease on life….

To be continued…………………………………..


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