"That's correct, ma'am. Notice the date. And this is your second notice. "
"And you are Death?"
"That's right. "
"Well, that's just silly. "
"I am not silly, Mrs. Posokovanovich. I am Death. "
"Aren't you supposed to have a sickle and a long black robe?"
"No, we don't do that anymore. Take my word for it, I am Death. " He tried to sound really ominous.
"Death is always tall in the pictures. " She was standing on tiptoe, he could tell the way she kept bouncing up by the little window to get a look at him. "You don't seem tall enough. "
"There's no height requirement. "
"Then could I see your business card?"
"Sure. " Charlie took out a card and held it against the glass.
"This says 'Purveyor of Fine Vintage Clothing and Accessories. '"
"Right! Exactly!" He knew he should have had a second set of business cards printed up. "And where do you think I get those things? From the dead. You see?"
"Mr. Asher, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. "
"No, ma'am, I'm going to have to insist that you pass away, this instant. You're overdue. "
"Go away! You are a charlatan, and I think you need psychological help. "
"Death! You're fucking with Death! Capital D, bitch!" Well, that was uncalled for. Charlie felt bad the second he said it. "Sorry," he mumbled to the door.
"I'm calling the police. "
"You go ahead, Mrs. - uh - Irena. You know what they'll tell you, that you're dead! It was in the Chronicle. They hardly ever print stuff that's not true. "
"Please go away. I practiced for a long time so I could live longer, it's not fair. "
"What?"
"Go away. "
"I heard that part, I mean the part about practicing. "
"Never you mind. You just go take someone else. "
Charlie actually had no idea what he would do if she let him in. Maybe he had to touch her for his Death abilities to kick in. He remembered seeing an old Twilight Zone as a kid, where Robert Redford was Death, and this old lady wouldn't let him in, so he pretended to be injured, and when she came to help him. . . ALA-KAZAM! She croaked, and he peacefully led her off to Hole in the Wall, where she helped him produce independent movies. Maybe that would work. He did have the cast and the cane going for him.
He looked up and down the street to make sure that no one could see him, then he lay down, half on the little porch, half on the concrete steps. He threw his cane against the door and made sure that it clattered loudly on the concrete, then he let out what he thought was a very convincing wail. "Ahhhhhhhhh, I've broken my leg. "
He heard footsteps inside and saw gray hair at the little window, bouncing a little so she could see out.
"Oh, it hurts," Charlie wailed. "Help. "
More steps, the shade in the window to the right of the door parted and he saw an eye. He grimaced in fake pain.
"Are you all right?" said Mrs. Posokovanovich.