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kinkfestTitle: No Sleep for the Dead
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eternalsayonara
Rating: R
Warnings: Swearing, bad language, sexual innuendo, and a twisted attitude towards death...But that's Dead Like Me in a nutshell.
Word count: ~2900
Summary: Dead Like Me, Rube Sofer/Georgia Lass: hurt/comfort - "I can't sleep/and I can't breathe/when he's not around"
A/N: My first shot at DLM. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
“Now where the fuck is Rube?” Mason asked irritably. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the oak table of Der Waffle Haus. “He said he’d be here by now.”
“Would you shut up?” George asked, dozing in her seat. “Rube said he’d be here at 7:30 and it’s now ―” George opened her eyes to check her watch for the fifth time since Mason had been complaining “― 7:26. So shut the hell up.”
Mason glared at George. George yawned.
“Better listen to the lady,” Roxy said idly, flipping through the breakfast menu.
“Was I talking to you?” Mason asked. “And what the fuck are you reading the menu for anyway? We eat here every single day!”
“You’re just jealous ‘cause you can’t read,” George mumbled. Then she slumped down on the table and closed her eyes.
Mason eyed her warily. “Is she on the rag?” he whispered loudly to Daisy.
Daisy ignored him. “Georgia, sweetheart, what’s the matter? I didn’t want to mention this before, but there are some awful circles under your eyes. Are you getting enough sleep?”
George muttered something incoherent in reply.
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” a voice said. George opened her eyes blearily to see Rube standing above her.
“About fucking time,” Mason said.
Rube slid into the space next to George. “It’s a good day to die, isn’t it?” he said cheerfully.
George groaned sleepily.
Kiffany walked up to their table, pen and paper in hand. “Ready to order?” she asked. The reapers, minus George, placed their orders. “Honey?” Kiffany prodded gently, looking at George.
No response.
“She’ll have some bacons and eggs,” Rube said. “Protein in the morning really helps you start your day off right.” He punched George good-naturedly on the shoulder. She didn’t react.
“Oh, Kiffany, darling, do you have any cucumbers?” Daisy asked. “Could you see that some raw ones ― sliced and peeled, mind you ― are sent over? I think Georgia here needs to do some emergency eyebag repair.”
“Of course,” Kiffany said, nodding. She barely batted an eyelash before bustling away.
Rube watched her leave, then pulled out his notebook to distribute the day’s Post-It notes. He placed them on the table with a light thump for each Reaper.
“Reap ‘em and weep,” he said. Thump. “One for the protector of the law,” he said to Roxy. Thump. “One for the social butterfly”, he said to Daisy. Thump. “One for the resident fuck-up,” he said to Mason. Thump-thump. “And two for our sleepy Peanut,” he said to George.
George woke up at that. “The fuck?” she asked, indignant. “Why do I get two today?”
“Because, Peanut,” Rube explained patiently, “That’s what we do. Some days we get just a little extra.”
George scowled. She picked up her Post-Its. “Oh, hell no,” she said. “This second one’s ETD is at 3:34 a.m. tomorrow?”
“And that’s why I’m giving it to you now,” Rube said.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” George said. “Two in a day, and one in the middle of the fucking night? Screw that,” she said. “Take your goddamned Post-It and shove it up your ass, you fucking bastard!”
“Georgia!” Daisy admonished. “You should watch your language. A young lady in my day would never dream of using such words.
Rube narrowed his eyes. “She’s right, Peanut. I don’t enjoy being talked to in that way,” he said.
“She sounds like a bloody sailor!” Mason said, delighted.
George sulked and glared.
“You know,” Daisy mused, “I used to know a sailor.”
“Is that right?” Roxy asked dryly.
“He was such a gentleman,” Daisy continued. “Until I started ―” she paused delicately “― to get to know him intimately. Why, he started swearing a blue streak! Such awful language! I didn’t even know if I was doing a good job until ―”
Rube held up a hand. “Spare us the details,” he said.
Daisy smiled. “Well, suffice to say that he said a mouthful, and I got a mouthful in the end.”
“I’ve got to get to work,” Roxy said to no one in particular. “Some heads need busting today. I’m going to get my order to go,” she said. She picked up her Post-It and stood up.
Mason flipped her the bird as she left.
“Why can’t Mason do the second job?” George asked. “He doesn’t have a job. I’ve got to go to work today and tomorrow.”
“That’s not the way it works,” Rube reminded her. “Today, you’re in a tough spot. Next week, who knows?” he shrugged.
Undaunted, George appealed to Daisy. “Please, Daisy, please? Can you do this one for me?”
“No can do, kiddo,” Daisy said. “Non-transferable, remember?”
“I don’t believe this,” George moaned, placing her head in her hands.
Kiffany arrived with their food. “Vanilla milkshake and pancakes with extra syrup for you,” she said to Mason. “Chamomile tea, low-fat yogurt and a side of cantaloupe for you,” she said to Daisy. “Cream-cheese bagel, coffee, and sunny side ups for you,” she said to Rube. “And finally scrambled eggs and extra crispy bacon with a side of raw, peeled and sliced cucumbers for you,” she said to George.
Daisy sparkled at her. “Thank you, Kiffany,” she said. Kiffany smiled and headed back to the kitchen for her next orders. “Now, Georgia, don’t forget to place those cucumbers on your eyes before you get to work. Five minutes will work wonders,” she said.
George rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on practicing your lines in the middle of the freakin’ night, I would actually get some sleep!” she said.
“All right, Peanut, that’s enough,” Rube said. “Daisy, Mason, I want to talk to George here alone for a few minutes.”
“C'mon, Rube, don't be such a fucking prick,” Mason protested.
Rube glared. “There’s a table over there,” he said, pointing. “Move.”
“Yeah? What if I spill and all this sticky syrup everywhere?” Mason challenged, pointing to his pancakes. “You don’t want an accident to happen, am I right? That'd really shake up Upper Management, if you know what I mean.”
“You want an accident, Mason? 'Cause I foresee one between your face and my foot. Let me tell you, I'll get a bonus for that one. Now scram!” Rube snapped.
Mason made a stabbing motion with his fork in Rube’s direction before picking up his plate and moving to the empty table.
“Don’t be too hard on her, Rube,” Daisy said. “She gets kind of crabby in the mornings, if you know I mean.” With that, she glided over to the other table, drink and plate in hand.
Rube sighed once they were gone. “Listen, Peanut. It’s just you and me now. No more bullshit,” Rube warned.
George refused to look at him.
“Look, we’ve been doing this for too long. You’ve had harder jobs than this one. So tell me, George, what’s bothering you?” Rube asked.
“I just…” George blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m tired, Rube,” she admitted.
Rube tapped his index finger on the table twice. “I’ll talk to Daisy, OK? You two living in the same place? Bound to be some problems after a spell. Nothing that can’t be ironed out, right?” he said.
“No, it’s not that,” George groaned. She looked up at Rube, who was watching her. “I mean, it is, but I…” she trailed off again.
Rube sat back and folded his arms. “You gotta help me out here, Peanut. I can’t help you fix your problems if you don’t tell me what they are.”
“I’m tired,” George said quietly.
Rube waited.
“I’m tired of all this,” George continued. “Tired of all this reaping and shit. I mean, I’ve been doing this for a while, but you?” She looked at Rube. “You’ve been doing this for a lifetime. And for what? So that you can, I don’t know, tell other people what to do? So that you can see all these people living and dying, while you’re stuck in the middle? We reap all these souls to make sure that they get to The Great Beyond or whatever it’s called this week. We don’t even get a paycheck. What’s the point? What’s the fucking point?” George demanded.
Rube sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, Peanut. I don’t know why we get left behind. You think I haven’t wondered why I’ve seen more glowing lights than a body has the right to and never get to see them up close? Why we always have to watch from a distance?” Rube shrugged.
“It’s not fair,” George muttered.
“You’re damn right it’s not fair. I’ve been dead longer than most people have been alive. And I’m Middle Management. That’s all I am, George,” Rube said, spreading his arms wide.
George looked at him for a moment. “So…why do you do it?”
“Do what?” Rube asked.
“This! It’s such a pain in the ass. Why don’t you just say ‘Fuck this!’ and go, I don’t know, piggyback off someone else’s death,” George said. She twisted the ring on her pinky finger petulantly.
Rube sighed heavily. “That’s—”
“I know, I know,” George cut in. “That’s not the way it works.”
Rube shrugged once more. “I wish I had more answers for you, Peanut. But as far as I can figure it, we just do what we gotta do. Ain’t no shame in that.”
“But why us? Why not somebody else? Like…like angels, or something,” George asked grumpily.
“Maybe there ain’t such a thing,” Rube offered. “Maybe they think it’s better that we who guide the dead were once alive. Makes the transition easier.”
“I doubt it,” George muttered. “I hate this. Being here. Being right here, but not doing anything.”
Rube fiddled with the sugar before adding some to his coffee. “You ever read Tuck Everlasting, Peanut?” he asked.
George blinked at the apparent non sequitur. “Um…no,” she said uncertainly.
“Story’s about a girl who finds out about a family. This family now, they’ve been alive for years and years. They can’t die, they don’t age,” Rube related. "Nice family. Mother, father, two kids. Just as normal as you can get. But they stumble upon something, and boom, they get to live forever."
“Uh…Was it written by a reaper?” George asked.
“Not as far as I know,” Rube said. “But this family, the father at least, he hated it. Said they were like rocks. Not living. Just being.”
George waited, raising an eyebrow.
“Now the question is, Peanut, do you want to be a rock?” Rube leaned forward to look George in the eye. “Because it looks to me that we’ve got a whole lot of living to do now that we’re undead. We got a chance, George, a real one. The dead ones can’t do what we’re doing. Neither can the live ones.”
“And what exactly are we doing? Reaping souls? It’s worse than being alive,” George snorted.
“If you look at it that way, then sure. Me, I like to think that we make a difference in people’s deaths. Help them along the way to that other place. That helps me sleep better at night,” Rube said.
“And what about that other place? Maybe the real dead ones are up there laughing at us or something,” George protested.
“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t change the fact that they can’t be here anymore, while we are,” Rube answered. “It’d be a real fucking shame if we waste our afterlives as much as most people waste their lives, let me tell you that.”
George digested this slowly as Rube sipped his coffee. “I still don’t like it,” she said.
Rube started in on his sunny side ups. “You don’t have to like it. Just do it,” he said through a mouthful of eggs. “You’re a travel agent, Peanut. You book trips to Hawaii or some other place. You ain’t never been there yourself, but you know it’s a nice place. So you guide all the nice people there, make sure they have a good time.” Rube paused to swallow and wipe his mouth. “Pass the pepper,” he said.
“And then what?” George asked, irritated. She passed him the pepper.
Rube sighed and leaned back. “And then maybe you get a promotion one day. Maybe you get a free trip to Hawaii. Or maybe you get to go to Iceland. Sure, the name throws you off a bit, but it’s beautiful there. You get to see the volcanoes, the glaciers. Beautiful stuff,” Rube said.
“I’m sure,” George said sardonically.
“Most people haven’t been there, but maybe you’ll like it better than Hawaii. The point is, you do your job, have a little fun in your off hours, and hope for the best,” Rube said.
“That sucks,” George said bluntly.
“That’s death,” Rube corrected. “People only have a limited amount of time on Earth. Reapers get a little extra time. We have to work for it, but it’s worth it, don’t you think?”
George glared. “What? What exactly is worth it?” she demanded.
Rube scratched his chin in thought. “Good food,” he said, polishing off the rest of his eggs. “And good company,” he continued.
“That’s it?” George challenged.
“Don’t knock it, Peanut. Just be glad you can enjoy a plate of scrambled eggs longer than the dead guy you just reaped,” Rube said. “Remember what I said: if you're done with liking things, then there's a one-way ticket to someplace else that can be written for you in a jiffy. And that ain't going to be a ticket to Iceland."
George scowled at him.
Rube chewed thoughtfully before continuing. "Just be glad we aren’t in the Plague Division. Terrible stuff. It’s either dealing with rotting bodies because there’s no way you can reap all the souls before they die, or nothing at all for decades at a time.”
“So you’re telling me,” George said slowly, “That being dead sucks more than being alive ever did, and I’ve just got to suck it up and deal?”
Rube smiled this time. “I don’t think I have to tell you anything, Peanut.” He pushed her plate of uneaten eggs and bacon toward her. “Now eat your breakfast.”
George knocked loudly and repeatedly on the door of the townhouse #4 on Baker Street at 3:25 a.m. the next morning. She noticed that a light was already on and waited until she heard muffled cursing.
“Who the hell are you?” a bleary-eyed woman in nightgown and nightcap asked.
“Hi,” George said, fake smile plastered on her face. “I’m looking for a B. Flint?”
The woman glared at her. “I’m Billie. Do you have any idea what time it is?” she demanded. "You're damn lucky I was already awake getting a glass of water. Otherwise I'd beat your ass up to your ears if you'd woken me up."
George pretended to look at her watch. “Oh, geez! I’m really sorry. My watch is broken, I think. Sorry to bother you!” George quickly reached out to touch the woman’s shoulder in the semblance of an apology. Soul taken, she cheerily remarked, “I’ll be seeing you!” and walked quickly away down the stone steps adorning her from porch.
“Not likely, you crazy bat,” the woman said as she slammed the door and stomped up the stairs.
“What happened there?” the woman asked a few minutes later, gazing back at her body.
“You had a little accident,” George explained. “You’re dead now,” she continued.
The woman frowned. “Are you sure?” she asked.
George and the woman ― Billie ― tilted their heads to view the carnage. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” George surmised.
Billie sighed. “I knew I should have moved to a one story place. All them stairs were getting hard on me, but I never imagined I’d fall down them like that,” she said.
“Well, it wasn’t entirely your fault,” George comforted. “A Graveling did most of it.”
Billie squinted at her. “A what?”
George paused.
“Never mind,” Billie said. “What does it matter now that I’m dead? But I wish I’d been wearing something more decent,” she remarked, looking down at her floral nightgown.
“Trust me,” George said. “It doesn’t matter where you’re going.” She took Billie’s arm and began to stroll away.
“Yeah?” Billie asked, perking up. “Where’s that?”
Using her other arm, George pointed to the ethereal lights shining across the street. “There. But I don’t know for sure,” she murmured.
“Eh?” Billie said. “You’re not coming with me?” she asked, consternation showing on her face.
“I can’t,” George admitted sadly.
Searching George’s face, Billie nodded. “Maybe one day, then, eh?” She chuckled. “I’ll be seeing you,” she called back to George.
George waved goodbye slowly as Billie walked up to the curtain of lights and then disappeared in a flash of white light.
George stood watching until the world was dark again.
“You did good, Peanut,” a familiar voice said at her back.
George didn’t turn around. “Did you follow me because you thought I wouldn’t do it?” she asked.
She heard Rube chuckle behind her. “No, Peanut. I just wanted to give you a ride home.”
George turned at that. “Really?” she asked, trying to keep the delight from her voice.
“Really,” Rube said, striding up to stand next to her. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
George was already dozing when Rube pulled up to the house she and Daisy shared.
“I can’t believe I have to go to work in a couple of hours,” George said sleepily.
“Oh, I took care of that, too,” Rube said offhandedly.
George squinted up at him as she got out of the car. “You did?”
“Sure,” he said. “What else is a sponsor for? Just don't forget to tell your boss the stars were real pretty tonight.”
George tilted her head back up to gaze at the night sky. "They are," she said softly. She smiled as she walked up the lane to unlock her door. She turned back to the street where Rube was waiting by his car, making sure she got home all right.
“Good night, Rube,” she called quietly.
“Good night, George,” Rube called. “Get some sleep.”
Author/Artist:
eternalsayonaraRating: R
Warnings: Swearing, bad language, sexual innuendo, and a twisted attitude towards death...But that's Dead Like Me in a nutshell.
Word count: ~2900
Summary: Dead Like Me, Rube Sofer/Georgia Lass: hurt/comfort - "I can't sleep/and I can't breathe/when he's not around"
A/N: My first shot at DLM. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
“Now where the fuck is Rube?” Mason asked irritably. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the oak table of Der Waffle Haus. “He said he’d be here by now.”
“Would you shut up?” George asked, dozing in her seat. “Rube said he’d be here at 7:30 and it’s now ―” George opened her eyes to check her watch for the fifth time since Mason had been complaining “― 7:26. So shut the hell up.”
Mason glared at George. George yawned.
“Better listen to the lady,” Roxy said idly, flipping through the breakfast menu.
“Was I talking to you?” Mason asked. “And what the fuck are you reading the menu for anyway? We eat here every single day!”
“You’re just jealous ‘cause you can’t read,” George mumbled. Then she slumped down on the table and closed her eyes.
Mason eyed her warily. “Is she on the rag?” he whispered loudly to Daisy.
Daisy ignored him. “Georgia, sweetheart, what’s the matter? I didn’t want to mention this before, but there are some awful circles under your eyes. Are you getting enough sleep?”
George muttered something incoherent in reply.
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” a voice said. George opened her eyes blearily to see Rube standing above her.
“About fucking time,” Mason said.
Rube slid into the space next to George. “It’s a good day to die, isn’t it?” he said cheerfully.
George groaned sleepily.
Kiffany walked up to their table, pen and paper in hand. “Ready to order?” she asked. The reapers, minus George, placed their orders. “Honey?” Kiffany prodded gently, looking at George.
No response.
“She’ll have some bacons and eggs,” Rube said. “Protein in the morning really helps you start your day off right.” He punched George good-naturedly on the shoulder. She didn’t react.
“Oh, Kiffany, darling, do you have any cucumbers?” Daisy asked. “Could you see that some raw ones ― sliced and peeled, mind you ― are sent over? I think Georgia here needs to do some emergency eyebag repair.”
“Of course,” Kiffany said, nodding. She barely batted an eyelash before bustling away.
Rube watched her leave, then pulled out his notebook to distribute the day’s Post-It notes. He placed them on the table with a light thump for each Reaper.
“Reap ‘em and weep,” he said. Thump. “One for the protector of the law,” he said to Roxy. Thump. “One for the social butterfly”, he said to Daisy. Thump. “One for the resident fuck-up,” he said to Mason. Thump-thump. “And two for our sleepy Peanut,” he said to George.
George woke up at that. “The fuck?” she asked, indignant. “Why do I get two today?”
“Because, Peanut,” Rube explained patiently, “That’s what we do. Some days we get just a little extra.”
George scowled. She picked up her Post-Its. “Oh, hell no,” she said. “This second one’s ETD is at 3:34 a.m. tomorrow?”
“And that’s why I’m giving it to you now,” Rube said.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” George said. “Two in a day, and one in the middle of the fucking night? Screw that,” she said. “Take your goddamned Post-It and shove it up your ass, you fucking bastard!”
“Georgia!” Daisy admonished. “You should watch your language. A young lady in my day would never dream of using such words.
Rube narrowed his eyes. “She’s right, Peanut. I don’t enjoy being talked to in that way,” he said.
“She sounds like a bloody sailor!” Mason said, delighted.
George sulked and glared.
“You know,” Daisy mused, “I used to know a sailor.”
“Is that right?” Roxy asked dryly.
“He was such a gentleman,” Daisy continued. “Until I started ―” she paused delicately “― to get to know him intimately. Why, he started swearing a blue streak! Such awful language! I didn’t even know if I was doing a good job until ―”
Rube held up a hand. “Spare us the details,” he said.
Daisy smiled. “Well, suffice to say that he said a mouthful, and I got a mouthful in the end.”
“I’ve got to get to work,” Roxy said to no one in particular. “Some heads need busting today. I’m going to get my order to go,” she said. She picked up her Post-It and stood up.
Mason flipped her the bird as she left.
“Why can’t Mason do the second job?” George asked. “He doesn’t have a job. I’ve got to go to work today and tomorrow.”
“That’s not the way it works,” Rube reminded her. “Today, you’re in a tough spot. Next week, who knows?” he shrugged.
Undaunted, George appealed to Daisy. “Please, Daisy, please? Can you do this one for me?”
“No can do, kiddo,” Daisy said. “Non-transferable, remember?”
“I don’t believe this,” George moaned, placing her head in her hands.
Kiffany arrived with their food. “Vanilla milkshake and pancakes with extra syrup for you,” she said to Mason. “Chamomile tea, low-fat yogurt and a side of cantaloupe for you,” she said to Daisy. “Cream-cheese bagel, coffee, and sunny side ups for you,” she said to Rube. “And finally scrambled eggs and extra crispy bacon with a side of raw, peeled and sliced cucumbers for you,” she said to George.
Daisy sparkled at her. “Thank you, Kiffany,” she said. Kiffany smiled and headed back to the kitchen for her next orders. “Now, Georgia, don’t forget to place those cucumbers on your eyes before you get to work. Five minutes will work wonders,” she said.
George rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on practicing your lines in the middle of the freakin’ night, I would actually get some sleep!” she said.
“All right, Peanut, that’s enough,” Rube said. “Daisy, Mason, I want to talk to George here alone for a few minutes.”
“C'mon, Rube, don't be such a fucking prick,” Mason protested.
Rube glared. “There’s a table over there,” he said, pointing. “Move.”
“Yeah? What if I spill and all this sticky syrup everywhere?” Mason challenged, pointing to his pancakes. “You don’t want an accident to happen, am I right? That'd really shake up Upper Management, if you know what I mean.”
“You want an accident, Mason? 'Cause I foresee one between your face and my foot. Let me tell you, I'll get a bonus for that one. Now scram!” Rube snapped.
Mason made a stabbing motion with his fork in Rube’s direction before picking up his plate and moving to the empty table.
“Don’t be too hard on her, Rube,” Daisy said. “She gets kind of crabby in the mornings, if you know I mean.” With that, she glided over to the other table, drink and plate in hand.
Rube sighed once they were gone. “Listen, Peanut. It’s just you and me now. No more bullshit,” Rube warned.
George refused to look at him.
“Look, we’ve been doing this for too long. You’ve had harder jobs than this one. So tell me, George, what’s bothering you?” Rube asked.
“I just…” George blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m tired, Rube,” she admitted.
Rube tapped his index finger on the table twice. “I’ll talk to Daisy, OK? You two living in the same place? Bound to be some problems after a spell. Nothing that can’t be ironed out, right?” he said.
“No, it’s not that,” George groaned. She looked up at Rube, who was watching her. “I mean, it is, but I…” she trailed off again.
Rube sat back and folded his arms. “You gotta help me out here, Peanut. I can’t help you fix your problems if you don’t tell me what they are.”
“I’m tired,” George said quietly.
Rube waited.
“I’m tired of all this,” George continued. “Tired of all this reaping and shit. I mean, I’ve been doing this for a while, but you?” She looked at Rube. “You’ve been doing this for a lifetime. And for what? So that you can, I don’t know, tell other people what to do? So that you can see all these people living and dying, while you’re stuck in the middle? We reap all these souls to make sure that they get to The Great Beyond or whatever it’s called this week. We don’t even get a paycheck. What’s the point? What’s the fucking point?” George demanded.
Rube sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, Peanut. I don’t know why we get left behind. You think I haven’t wondered why I’ve seen more glowing lights than a body has the right to and never get to see them up close? Why we always have to watch from a distance?” Rube shrugged.
“It’s not fair,” George muttered.
“You’re damn right it’s not fair. I’ve been dead longer than most people have been alive. And I’m Middle Management. That’s all I am, George,” Rube said, spreading his arms wide.
George looked at him for a moment. “So…why do you do it?”
“Do what?” Rube asked.
“This! It’s such a pain in the ass. Why don’t you just say ‘Fuck this!’ and go, I don’t know, piggyback off someone else’s death,” George said. She twisted the ring on her pinky finger petulantly.
Rube sighed heavily. “That’s—”
“I know, I know,” George cut in. “That’s not the way it works.”
Rube shrugged once more. “I wish I had more answers for you, Peanut. But as far as I can figure it, we just do what we gotta do. Ain’t no shame in that.”
“But why us? Why not somebody else? Like…like angels, or something,” George asked grumpily.
“Maybe there ain’t such a thing,” Rube offered. “Maybe they think it’s better that we who guide the dead were once alive. Makes the transition easier.”
“I doubt it,” George muttered. “I hate this. Being here. Being right here, but not doing anything.”
Rube fiddled with the sugar before adding some to his coffee. “You ever read Tuck Everlasting, Peanut?” he asked.
George blinked at the apparent non sequitur. “Um…no,” she said uncertainly.
“Story’s about a girl who finds out about a family. This family now, they’ve been alive for years and years. They can’t die, they don’t age,” Rube related. "Nice family. Mother, father, two kids. Just as normal as you can get. But they stumble upon something, and boom, they get to live forever."
“Uh…Was it written by a reaper?” George asked.
“Not as far as I know,” Rube said. “But this family, the father at least, he hated it. Said they were like rocks. Not living. Just being.”
George waited, raising an eyebrow.
“Now the question is, Peanut, do you want to be a rock?” Rube leaned forward to look George in the eye. “Because it looks to me that we’ve got a whole lot of living to do now that we’re undead. We got a chance, George, a real one. The dead ones can’t do what we’re doing. Neither can the live ones.”
“And what exactly are we doing? Reaping souls? It’s worse than being alive,” George snorted.
“If you look at it that way, then sure. Me, I like to think that we make a difference in people’s deaths. Help them along the way to that other place. That helps me sleep better at night,” Rube said.
“And what about that other place? Maybe the real dead ones are up there laughing at us or something,” George protested.
“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t change the fact that they can’t be here anymore, while we are,” Rube answered. “It’d be a real fucking shame if we waste our afterlives as much as most people waste their lives, let me tell you that.”
George digested this slowly as Rube sipped his coffee. “I still don’t like it,” she said.
Rube started in on his sunny side ups. “You don’t have to like it. Just do it,” he said through a mouthful of eggs. “You’re a travel agent, Peanut. You book trips to Hawaii or some other place. You ain’t never been there yourself, but you know it’s a nice place. So you guide all the nice people there, make sure they have a good time.” Rube paused to swallow and wipe his mouth. “Pass the pepper,” he said.
“And then what?” George asked, irritated. She passed him the pepper.
Rube sighed and leaned back. “And then maybe you get a promotion one day. Maybe you get a free trip to Hawaii. Or maybe you get to go to Iceland. Sure, the name throws you off a bit, but it’s beautiful there. You get to see the volcanoes, the glaciers. Beautiful stuff,” Rube said.
“I’m sure,” George said sardonically.
“Most people haven’t been there, but maybe you’ll like it better than Hawaii. The point is, you do your job, have a little fun in your off hours, and hope for the best,” Rube said.
“That sucks,” George said bluntly.
“That’s death,” Rube corrected. “People only have a limited amount of time on Earth. Reapers get a little extra time. We have to work for it, but it’s worth it, don’t you think?”
George glared. “What? What exactly is worth it?” she demanded.
Rube scratched his chin in thought. “Good food,” he said, polishing off the rest of his eggs. “And good company,” he continued.
“That’s it?” George challenged.
“Don’t knock it, Peanut. Just be glad you can enjoy a plate of scrambled eggs longer than the dead guy you just reaped,” Rube said. “Remember what I said: if you're done with liking things, then there's a one-way ticket to someplace else that can be written for you in a jiffy. And that ain't going to be a ticket to Iceland."
George scowled at him.
Rube chewed thoughtfully before continuing. "Just be glad we aren’t in the Plague Division. Terrible stuff. It’s either dealing with rotting bodies because there’s no way you can reap all the souls before they die, or nothing at all for decades at a time.”
“So you’re telling me,” George said slowly, “That being dead sucks more than being alive ever did, and I’ve just got to suck it up and deal?”
Rube smiled this time. “I don’t think I have to tell you anything, Peanut.” He pushed her plate of uneaten eggs and bacon toward her. “Now eat your breakfast.”
George knocked loudly and repeatedly on the door of the townhouse #4 on Baker Street at 3:25 a.m. the next morning. She noticed that a light was already on and waited until she heard muffled cursing.
“Who the hell are you?” a bleary-eyed woman in nightgown and nightcap asked.
“Hi,” George said, fake smile plastered on her face. “I’m looking for a B. Flint?”
The woman glared at her. “I’m Billie. Do you have any idea what time it is?” she demanded. "You're damn lucky I was already awake getting a glass of water. Otherwise I'd beat your ass up to your ears if you'd woken me up."
George pretended to look at her watch. “Oh, geez! I’m really sorry. My watch is broken, I think. Sorry to bother you!” George quickly reached out to touch the woman’s shoulder in the semblance of an apology. Soul taken, she cheerily remarked, “I’ll be seeing you!” and walked quickly away down the stone steps adorning her from porch.
“Not likely, you crazy bat,” the woman said as she slammed the door and stomped up the stairs.
“What happened there?” the woman asked a few minutes later, gazing back at her body.
“You had a little accident,” George explained. “You’re dead now,” she continued.
The woman frowned. “Are you sure?” she asked.
George and the woman ― Billie ― tilted their heads to view the carnage. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” George surmised.
Billie sighed. “I knew I should have moved to a one story place. All them stairs were getting hard on me, but I never imagined I’d fall down them like that,” she said.
“Well, it wasn’t entirely your fault,” George comforted. “A Graveling did most of it.”
Billie squinted at her. “A what?”
George paused.
“Never mind,” Billie said. “What does it matter now that I’m dead? But I wish I’d been wearing something more decent,” she remarked, looking down at her floral nightgown.
“Trust me,” George said. “It doesn’t matter where you’re going.” She took Billie’s arm and began to stroll away.
“Yeah?” Billie asked, perking up. “Where’s that?”
Using her other arm, George pointed to the ethereal lights shining across the street. “There. But I don’t know for sure,” she murmured.
“Eh?” Billie said. “You’re not coming with me?” she asked, consternation showing on her face.
“I can’t,” George admitted sadly.
Searching George’s face, Billie nodded. “Maybe one day, then, eh?” She chuckled. “I’ll be seeing you,” she called back to George.
George waved goodbye slowly as Billie walked up to the curtain of lights and then disappeared in a flash of white light.
George stood watching until the world was dark again.
“You did good, Peanut,” a familiar voice said at her back.
George didn’t turn around. “Did you follow me because you thought I wouldn’t do it?” she asked.
She heard Rube chuckle behind her. “No, Peanut. I just wanted to give you a ride home.”
George turned at that. “Really?” she asked, trying to keep the delight from her voice.
“Really,” Rube said, striding up to stand next to her. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
George was already dozing when Rube pulled up to the house she and Daisy shared.
“I can’t believe I have to go to work in a couple of hours,” George said sleepily.
“Oh, I took care of that, too,” Rube said offhandedly.
George squinted up at him as she got out of the car. “You did?”
“Sure,” he said. “What else is a sponsor for? Just don't forget to tell your boss the stars were real pretty tonight.”
George tilted her head back up to gaze at the night sky. "They are," she said softly. She smiled as she walked up the lane to unlock her door. She turned back to the street where Rube was waiting by his car, making sure she got home all right.
“Good night, Rube,” she called quietly.
“Good night, George,” Rube called. “Get some sleep.”
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Date: 2008-06-08 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-09 12:29 am (UTC)and not die from shame of butchering them. ;3no subject
Date: 2008-06-09 06:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-09 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 01:42 am (UTC)This was my prompt and you did an awesome job of it!
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Date: 2008-06-10 09:27 pm (UTC)Heh, Daisy can easily write her own dialogue. ;3
Ooh, I'm extremely glad you liked it, then. :)
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Date: 2008-06-12 09:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 09:10 pm (UTC)Really? Tears? Wow! I didn't think that story had that ability. ^^; Thank you very much! I'm so happy that you enjoyed it. <3
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Date: 2008-06-17 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 08:21 pm (UTC)