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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 05/30/2015
2015MoreUnfinishedBs (Approx. 650 wds.)
More Unfinished Business
Paul Lerner, a reiree, was resting on a shaded bench after his morning walk when Death sat down beside me. As in a previous encounter, Death was in the guise of a typical retiree, bald, red-faced, overweight, in baggy shorts and a tee-shirt that said, “The End is Near.” Death sighed and said, “Whew! At least it’s a little cooler here. I don’t know why you old guys have to move to such warm places.” I recalled that Death had said the same thing last time. “How’s your recovery going?”
“No bad.” Paul had had hip replacement surgery a few months before, something that had become standard procedure for the residents of his retirement community. The morning walk was part of his recovery process. The hip pain was gone but he still wasn’t walking as well as he would have liked. “I suppose you’re busy as usual.” As our community’s residents had aged Death had become an even more frequent visitor. .
“Yes,” said Death. “It’s gotten so that I can hardly keep up with my, uh, appointments. You people should really be more careful. You insist on trying to go up on ladders and tripping over curbs.”
“I know. Every week one of our friends has a fall.”
“And the medications. You take so many something is bound to go wrong.”
“True.” Death went on in this vein while Paul listened. After retiring, he’d become a free-lance writer for the local newspaper and had quickly learned that people liked to talk about themselves and their problems. He’d become a good listener and people seemed inclined to tell him about their woes, sometimes more than he cared to know..
Finally, Death paused and said, “Enough of that. I suppose you know why I’m here today.”
“Not really,” said Paul, although he was pretty sure he did. His first meeting with Death had been several years ago and he’d almost convinced himself that it had been a hallucination. Unfortunately, Death was all too real.
“You remember our last meeting. You told me you were not ready yet. You wanted to sell at least 50 copies of your book of short stories.”
“I seem to vaguely recall something like that.”
“At the time you’d sold 45 and were pretty sure you wouldn’t sell any more, but then a friend of your wife ordered another five. I’ve been too busy elsewhere but now there’s no need to wait any more.”
“But I’m just recovering from my hip surgery. If I, uh, depart now my surgeon will get a bad reputation.”
“He’s a surgeon so he thinks he’s God and he won’t care.”
“Wait. I appreciate your giving me the time to get to the 50 book mark, but I have another more important writing project.”
“I might have known. What is that?”
“A memoir of my life. I regret not learning more about my background when my parents were alive. I want to leave a record for my children and my grandchildren. I need more time to do that.”
Death sighed. “It seems that every writer is doing a memoir nowadays.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not a well-known writer; if I don’t write a memoir it’ll be as if I never existed. You wouldn’t want that, will you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve already given you one extension.”
“And I appreciate that,” I said quickly.
“Another extension would be highly irregular.”
“But you know how important a man’s life is; it’s what gives his death meaning.”
“I’m not sure if I follow that.”
I wasn’t either but I thought it sounded good. Finally, Death sighed again and said, “All right. You were a good listener and I appreciate that. For some reason, I seem to put people off. Go and write your memoir. But this is the last time.”
Death stood up and went down the path, wiping his face with a handkerchief and muttering about the heat. Paul walked back to his house. His wife asked if I’d had a good walk. He said I had. He sat down at his computer and typed: “My name is Paul Lerner. I was born ….” His memoir was going to be long and detailed.
###
More Unfinished Business(Martin Green)
2015MoreUnfinishedBs (Approx. 650 wds.)
More Unfinished Business
Paul Lerner, a reiree, was resting on a shaded bench after his morning walk when Death sat down beside me. As in a previous encounter, Death was in the guise of a typical retiree, bald, red-faced, overweight, in baggy shorts and a tee-shirt that said, “The End is Near.” Death sighed and said, “Whew! At least it’s a little cooler here. I don’t know why you old guys have to move to such warm places.” I recalled that Death had said the same thing last time. “How’s your recovery going?”
“No bad.” Paul had had hip replacement surgery a few months before, something that had become standard procedure for the residents of his retirement community. The morning walk was part of his recovery process. The hip pain was gone but he still wasn’t walking as well as he would have liked. “I suppose you’re busy as usual.” As our community’s residents had aged Death had become an even more frequent visitor. .
“Yes,” said Death. “It’s gotten so that I can hardly keep up with my, uh, appointments. You people should really be more careful. You insist on trying to go up on ladders and tripping over curbs.”
“I know. Every week one of our friends has a fall.”
“And the medications. You take so many something is bound to go wrong.”
“True.” Death went on in this vein while Paul listened. After retiring, he’d become a free-lance writer for the local newspaper and had quickly learned that people liked to talk about themselves and their problems. He’d become a good listener and people seemed inclined to tell him about their woes, sometimes more than he cared to know..
Finally, Death paused and said, “Enough of that. I suppose you know why I’m here today.”
“Not really,” said Paul, although he was pretty sure he did. His first meeting with Death had been several years ago and he’d almost convinced himself that it had been a hallucination. Unfortunately, Death was all too real.
“You remember our last meeting. You told me you were not ready yet. You wanted to sell at least 50 copies of your book of short stories.”
“I seem to vaguely recall something like that.”
“At the time you’d sold 45 and were pretty sure you wouldn’t sell any more, but then a friend of your wife ordered another five. I’ve been too busy elsewhere but now there’s no need to wait any more.”
“But I’m just recovering from my hip surgery. If I, uh, depart now my surgeon will get a bad reputation.”
“He’s a surgeon so he thinks he’s God and he won’t care.”
“Wait. I appreciate your giving me the time to get to the 50 book mark, but I have another more important writing project.”
“I might have known. What is that?”
“A memoir of my life. I regret not learning more about my background when my parents were alive. I want to leave a record for my children and my grandchildren. I need more time to do that.”
Death sighed. “It seems that every writer is doing a memoir nowadays.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not a well-known writer; if I don’t write a memoir it’ll be as if I never existed. You wouldn’t want that, will you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve already given you one extension.”
“And I appreciate that,” I said quickly.
“Another extension would be highly irregular.”
“But you know how important a man’s life is; it’s what gives his death meaning.”
“I’m not sure if I follow that.”
I wasn’t either but I thought it sounded good. Finally, Death sighed again and said, “All right. You were a good listener and I appreciate that. For some reason, I seem to put people off. Go and write your memoir. But this is the last time.”
Death stood up and went down the path, wiping his face with a handkerchief and muttering about the heat. Paul walked back to his house. His wife asked if I’d had a good walk. He said I had. He sat down at his computer and typed: “My name is Paul Lerner. I was born ….” His memoir was going to be long and detailed.
###
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