“I’m not afraid to die, I’m just saving it for a rainy day,” he said as he plopped down on the couch looking smug for successfully making his fifteenth trials of cold-pressed juice. “Think about it, what’s to be afraid about death anyway? Now, if we’re talking about dying, that I am dead afraid.”
I hate it when he turns into this person, the kind that just rambles on and on about death or anything that comes near the topic itself. Why can’t he chose a more cheery topic? Look outside. Look at all the flowers blooming, the rabbits running around doing what rabbits are doing, and yet talk about death is what he decided to do. Why am I even friend with this person?
“Why? Are we talking about literal rainy day or is there some kind of hidden meaning, somewhere? And what about dying?”
“It is not death, but dying, which is terrible. Do you know who said that? Henry Fielding said that. Death is the end. If death ever comes knocking on your door, sweep you off your feet, well, Son, that’s pretty much it. But, dying? Gosh. Who knows how long you’re there, you know? Dying, I mean. It ain’t going to be pretty. You could be dying in pain, whilst shitting down your pants with drool dribbling down your mouth. Gosh, tell me you’re afraid of that.”
How he managed to scarred my mental image for the next two weeks while drinking his ever so disgusting green cold-pressed juice, I have no idea. Again, why am I friend with this person?
“Well, dying doesn’t always mean that one has to be sick and be incredibly disgusting like your description, and thank you for that horrible mental image, by the way.”
“Okay, another scenario. You could be dying on the middle of the street, after a car crashed on you. No one heard your scream for help. And there you are, slowly dying with your guts spilling from your stomach.”
What is wrong with this person? How is he so obsessed with these gruesome descriptions? Whilst drinking no less. Disgusting! How am I still friend with this person?
“Mate, seriously, you have got to stop describing things like that! Some of us are trying to actually keep down their lunch here. I haven’t put down ‘vomit today’s lunch at 2.30 PM because my friend is an incredible jerk who likes to talk about vomit inducing topic‘ in my agenda.”
“Son, no need to get your knickers in a twist. Alright, I’ll refrain from the vomit inducing topic. But, back to what I was saying, death is fine, dying is a no go for me. As for your other question, it’s romantic isn’t it? To die on a rainy day, with raindrops pattering on your window, you let out your last strangled breath. How romantic.”
Romantic? What in the bleeding hell has this jerk-face been drinking? How in the world is death on a rainy day romantic? No, scratch that. How is death romantic? Honestly, I really need to know why am I still friend with this person.
“You know what? I’m not continuing this bloody conversation. It’s a beautiful day outside. I am not staying in this bleak room talking about death, vomit inducing topic, romantic death, or whatever sick and twisted topics you have up your sleeve. Nope. Not having it. Not today. Not any other day. I’m out. I am going to bask under the sun because I am just that kind of cheery person who refuse to spend this beautiful day talking about death.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Am I sure about what?”
“About being a cheery person?”
“Well, yes of course. Unlike you, I am planning to go out right about now.”
“And for what, may I ask?”
“What do you mean for what? For sunbathing, of course, or whatever people do under the blazing sun.”
“Ah, because you’re secretly suicidal. Son, unless you’re planning to die a gruesome death and risk yourself turning into ash and have some stray cat piss on your ash, I suggest you move your agenda to ‘sunbathing slash suicide attempt number god knows what‘ to somewhere around foggy day.”
“And why would I do that? And whatever do you mean about suicide?”
“Son, we’ve been vampires for hundreds of years. Get it inside your thick skull that vampires and sun don’t go together.”
Ah, right. I’m friend with this jerk-face because we’re two peas in a pod, scouring this earthly prison for fresh blood, whilst keeping tabs on the finest things in life can offer.
Work in fiction inspired by the Dialogue Prompt from PROMPTUARIUM.