"You… you suck," my completely lucid and attentive self said, yawning. I checked the time. 9 o'clock.
"Back at you, kiddo," Death retorted. "How do I know more things about pop culture than you do?!"
"So I didn't watch Star Wars, I'm sorry!"
"How do you not know Darth Vader was Luke's father?!"
"Vader is Luke's father?!"
…
"Death… by… handshake," Death muttered, scribbling in his notebook.
"What was that?"
"Oh, nothing. Just a bad cough."
…
It was after the chaos had settled that I realized something.
"…Death?" I asked.
"Yeah kid?" he replied.
"We didn't finish the will."
"We didn't…" Death trailed off, surveying the carnage around us.
"Oh. Oh man," he grimaced. "I just realized that I… have to go."
"What?" I groaned. "What about this mess?"
"Look kid, I'll make it up to you next time, but right now, I have to go. It was nice working with you!"
He extended his hand. Well that's strange. You'd think that a guy like him would go for a fist bump or a high five.
"Likewise," I said, taking his hand, firmly shaking it, and-
God damn it, he got me. ▲