Death: A Life (8 page)

“What are you?” I cried, my hopes beginning to diminish.

“I’m the Tree of Sentimentality,” said the tree. “Didn’t you like my ooky-wooky fruit?”

Behind me I could hear the Tree of Nostalgia droning on, “…such a nice conversation with that person, wasn’t it? You don’t get conversations like that anymore….”

I heard something clear its throat behind me. The sound came from a small lean tree, whose knots and whorls made it look as if it were wearing a pair of spectacles. It wore a laminated tag declaring it the
TREE OF DISMEMBERMENT.

“The Tree of Knowledge is over there,” it gestured with a branch, “in the Dell of Enlightenment.”

“What’s this place?”

“This is the Copse of Schmaltz,” it responded.

“And what are you?” I asked. “You don’t look like the Tree of Dismemberment.”

“No, I’m the Tree of Fortuitousness.”

“No, he’s not,” shouted a tree from across the copse.

“In that case, who is he?” I asked.

“He’s the Tree of Deception,” yelled the other tree. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Actually,” said the bespectacled tree, “I
am
the Tree of Fortuitousness. That tree over there is the Tree of Spiteful Interjections.”

“Oh, you
would
say that, wouldn’t you! He’s so cunning….”

The two trees waggled their branches at each other, causing a soft breeze to waft through the copse. I would later learn that such arguments were responsible for much of the Earth’s wind, hurricanes being formed after particularly violent clashes of arboreal opinion.

Fallen Trees After Debating the Sonic Consequences of Uprooted Vegetation in Uninhabited Woodland Areas.

I heard a heavy panting noise and saw Father rushing toward me, his arms full of laminated name tags.

“You haven’t seen me, right?” he said, before hurrying off again.

“You see?” exclaimed the so-called Tree of Fortuitousness. “That was fortuitous, wasn’t it?”

“Pure coincidence!” shouted the other. The breeze was freshening, and I was surrounded by foliage of questionable sanity. I began to despair of ever finding the Tree of Knowledge. I was about to follow after Father to ask him if he knew where it was when a painfully bright light appeared overhead, rooting me to the spot. Its laminated name tag now read
HI, I’M…COD.

“Where’s your name tag?” boomed God. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times; if you want to be part of Creation you have to wear a name tag.”

“I don’t have one,” I replied.

“Why ever not?” boomed God.

“I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t.

“What’s your name?” boomed the light, taking out a pen and pencil.

“Death,” I said meekly.

“Death? Death? Death? Aren’t you Satan’s son?”

“Yes.”

“How is he?” boomed God.

“Fine.” I didn’t know what else to say. The conversation was getting a bit strange.

“Such a naughty, naughty thing,” boomed God playfully.

There was another awkward pause.

“Well,” boomed God, “what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been trying to work that out myself,” I said. “I feel that I have important things to do, and important things to say, and I want to share them with all Creation, I just don’t know what they are exactly. But I can feel something. My true calling is buried deep inside me, I know it is! I just don’t know how to get at it. Can you tell me? Can You help me understand my true role in existence? Can You tell me what I’m doing here?”

“No,” boomed God. “I mean, what are you doing
here
? The Forest of Understanding is strictly off-limits, you know?”

“Oh,” I said. My enthusiasm had been lanced. “I was trying to find the Tree of Knowledge.”

“You stay away from that tree,” boomed God. “Why does everyone want a piece of that tree?”

“But God…”

“Call Me Lord.”

“But Lord…”

“Actually maybe God’s better. Or maybe Sir. What do you think about Sir? Too formal?”

“Well, they’re all very good, Sir. Lord. God. But what
am
I meant to be doing? What’s my role in Creation?”

“Oh, you’ll find out sooner or later. Don’t worry.”

God hung in the air, shimmering. If a bright orb of blinding light could be said to be examining its fingernails, that is what it was doing. I decided I might as well ask Him my question directly.

“Lord God Sir? What is ‘die’?”

“Well,” boomed God, suddenly full of enthusiasm, “die is the plural of dice, and dice are small cubes with marks on them, which you roll. I like to think they impart a certain arbitrary mood to Creation because I didn’t want it to feel that it was too, you know, staged. I’ve been trying to teach the Universe how to play but he is a stubborn fellow and keeps on throwing them down black holes. I think he prefers cards. Perhaps we can play together when you come and visit.”

“I’m coming to visit?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” boomed God. “Ta-ta.” And the bright light vanished into the trees. I looked down at my chest and saw a laminated card pinned to it. It read
HI, I’M…DEATH.

I felt inordinately depressed, and I had a terrible headache, which I would soon learn were the side effects of being talked to by God. I trudged out of the forest to loud jeers from the Tree of Provocation.

I was just
reaching the outer edge of the forest when a white four-legged creature with a bonelike growth on its forehead trotted into view. It was not like the horse or the bull or the wolf or the deer that I had seen wandering Earth before. It seemed special somehow. It looked at me with large round eyes, thick with eyelashes, and shook its blond mane playfully. It had a laminated tag attached to its horn reading
UNICORN.
Each letter of the word “unicorn” was written in a different color of the rainbow. Seeing this creature suddenly and inexplicably lifted my spirits. Its sheer loveliness seemed to restore my faith that everything in Creation had a purpose. I went to pat it on the head, but just as my hand reached out to smooth its tousled blond forelock, the Unicorn snapped at my hand with surprising venom.

I was so shocked that I stumbled backward, tripped, and crashed into a tree. Steadying myself on the tree’s thick trunk, I noticed that it was shuddering all the way up its huge height. Suddenly a threatening, groaning sound emanated from deep within it, transfixing both the Unicorn and me. A laminated tag fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. It read
TREE OF MISHAP.
I looked at the Unicorn. It was ambling toward me. It seemed to be smiling in a rather sinister fashion, its surprisingly sharp white teeth glistening in its mouth. I felt inexplicably nervous. I heard a snap from far above me in the tree and a hard fruit, the size of a boulder, plummeted down onto the Unicorn’s head. There was a loud crack.

Well, I couldn’t help but laugh. The moment reminded me of Uncle Hiniel’s Tuesday night skull-crushing sessions in Hell. However, unlike the tortured imps, the Unicorn did not get up and stagger around comically with a completely flat head. Instead, after a few less than droll convulsions, it lay completely still, its legs splayed out beneath it, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, and a dark, viscous liquid oozing from one of its ears. I shouted to it, but got no response.

It was at that precise moment, as my words faded into the air, that I suddenly felt irresistibly drawn toward the Unicorn, like an iron filing is drawn toward a magnet. It was a compulsion like I had never felt before, but it felt natural. Before I even knew what I was doing, I found myself leaning over the Unicorn’s body. My hand was reaching toward its chest, being drawn closer and closer, when I heard an irritated voice say, “Well, that’s just great, isn’t it?”

Unicorns: Unifriendly.

The spell was broken. I looked around me to see whether the Tree of Sarcasm was anywhere nearby, but the voice seemed to be coming from the Unicorn itself.

“Pardon?” I ventured.

“I said that’s just fucking marvelous,” repeated the voice, louder now. It was definitely coming from the Unicorn, but its mouth wasn’t moving.

“Hello?” I proffered.

“Oh! A ‘hello’! That’s what I get, is it, after crushing my skull in with a bloody great fruit.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. The Unicorn was still not moving, but the voice was getting louder and louder.

“Oh, you’re sorry, are you? You’re sorry! Well, doesn’t that make everything better! I’m sorry too. Sorry I ever laid eyes on you!”

The dark liquid continued to spill out of the Unicorn’s ear. It was so dark and rich, it transfixed me.

“What happened?” I asked. I had never seen anything like it before.

“You’ve only gone and killed me.”

The word “kill” sent a flush of excitement coursing through my body.

“I’ve what?”

“You’ve killed me, you prick! I’ve died, I’m dead, passed away, terminated. I am an ex-Unicorn and you’re the reason why, you nonce!”

There it was again. The word “die.” So this is what God had been talking about with Adam and Eve. I felt warm and fuzzy inside.

“Oh,” I said, spinning in the enormity of my discovery. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh no, thank you very much. You’ve done quite enough already.”

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I ventured.

“No, you fucking idiot,” replied the Unicorn. “It’s never happened to anyone before.”

And he was right. At this early stage of Creation nothing had died—not a fallen angel, not a blade of grass—everything was bright and shiny and new.

“Well,” I said, vainly trying to placate the creature, “at least you’re the first.” The Unicorn mulled this over.

“Yes, I suppose that’s some consolation. I’ll probably get in the record books, won’t I? I mean, God did say this was all going to end someday. I just didn’t think it would be the next fucking day.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. But secretly I was thrilled.

“Listen,” said the Unicorn, “I’m getting a bit uncomfortable here, why don’t you help me out of this body?”