There's a Method to This Madness

Ten short stories about friends and family, written for 42_souls.

Part 06: Democracy At Work

Prompt: Voice ((troika+Death))

Death was used to the way that Kid and the girls would frequently drop into the Death Room unannounced, coming and going as they pleased. He didn't particularly mind the way that Kid acted as if he already owned the place – after all, that would be true eventually. Which was why Death instantly knew that something was different, the day that his son and the girls showed up beneath the guillotines and then actually hesitated before coming in. Kid coughed and knocked on the side of a guillotine. "Father, may we have a word with you?" he asked.

Death couldn't even remember the last time that his son had bothered to ask permission before entering. Normally he just waltzed right in and immediately demanded his father's attention.

Oh, Death suddenly realized. This must be that thing that Spirit and Sid were always talking about, the way that the kids would suddenly get all humble and respectful, right before they were about to ask for Something Big.

"Any time, any time," Death sing-songed, in response to his son's question. Oh, this was going to be interesting. Kid had a strangely determined look about him, as if building up his courage toward something. Patti was hanging onto his arm and grinning cheerfully, even more cheerfully than usual. She was practically glowing. Liz, on the other hand, was actually standing a step behind the other two, her arms crossed over her chest, looking, in stark contrast to her sister, even grumpier than she usually looked.

"Father, the three of us have thoroughly discussed the matter," Kid began, "and we've decided to purchase a pet."

"Oh, really? That's wonderful!" Death bounced up and down happily. "But do you have any idea how to cat-proof a house?"

"Ah, not a cat," Kid said quickly.

"I wanted a cat," Liz grumbled. "A nice fluffy cat, like normal people have. Or maybe a dog. A cute little dog that I could dress up in tiny cowboy boots and adorable little hats, like normal people do with their pets."

Patti smirked at her sister, smugly. Death was beginning to suspect what that meant.

"You're not getting a cat?" Death asked his son. "I always imagined you as a cat person."

"Are you serious?" Kid looked aghast at the thought. "I can't deal with a pet that sheds. Anyway, Patti came up with a far superior suggestion for a pet. And we've even already found one that we'd like to adopt. Her name is Stephanie. She's terribly clever. She can open soda bottles, play ping-pong, and draw pictures. Harvard was using her for some useless scientific research, but they've already agreed to sell her to us for an exorbitant enough price."

"And," Death said, "Stephanie would be a…?"

"Of course, our ability to provide adequate care for Stephanie depends on several contingent factors," Kid continued, completely ignoring his father's question. "The biggest issue being, of course, the fact that we're often not home. Because you keep sending us out on missions." He paused long enough to catch his breath, and then Death realized that the Big Request was just seconds away. "So we need guaranteed access to a reliable pet-sitter. Somebody who doesn't get out much, and doesn't have much more important to do anyway. Also, it is still your house, so…"

"…I do not have nothing much more important to do anyway," Death said, trying to sound angry. He really wanted to laugh, though.

"I don't see what you do here that you couldn't also do back at the house," Kid countered, cool and logical, "or that you couldn't do while feeding and playing with Stephanie. That's all that you would need to do. Just drop in twice a day, give her some attention, and… You know. Pet-sitting stuff."

Death was less impressed by his son's argument than he was by the puppy-dog eyes that Patti was giving him. Puppy-dog eyes cute enough to make even a god weak in the knees.

"We really can't go through with this without your help," Kid said. "Harvard's not going to go through with the deal if they think that we're going to be absentee pet owners."

"But you are going to be absentee pet owners."

"Right, which is why we need a pet-sitter, and you're the most perfect person for the job." Kid really wasn't going to back down on this one. "Also, you're family. And soon Stephanie will be part of our family, too. So you have to help take care of her. Please, Father."

"Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaase," Patti said.

Liz scowled and looked away from them both. "Should've been a cat," she grumbled. But she had clearly been outvoted on the pet issue, as her sister's suggestion must have been the one that caught Kid's fancy. Death could see that now.

Finally, Death sighed. "All right, all right, all right. I suppose I could-"

"YES!" Patti shouted, jumping up and down and waving her arms triumphantly. "Whoo-hoo! I WIN!"

"Excellent!" Kid clapped his hands with satisfaction. "Great. Wonderful! I'll call the contractors right now, and they can have the octopus tank installed by tomorrow."

"The… what?" Death tilted his head at an angle, studying his son intensely. "The what?"

"Octopus tank," Kid sighed dreamily, stars in his eyes.

"Octopus tank," Liz repeated, curling her lip with disgust.

"Father, you're going to adore Stephanie," Kid went on. "She has the exact same number of suckers on each tentacle. And they're so evenly-spaced, too! Harvard sent us some preliminary photographs, I can get them to you tonight if you'd like to see them."

"Kid," Liz said, "I know that you're all googley-eyed over her tentacles and everything, but are you sure that Stephanie is on the up-and-up?" She was desperately trying one last tactic to stop the inevitable. "I mean, if she's smart enough to draw pictures, then maybe she's smart enough to spy on us, right? What if there's like, an octopus witch, and she uses Stephanie to spy on us?"

Kid waved her concern aside. "Shibusen killed the last octopus witch over three hundred years ago, and there hasn't been a new one active since then. Of course I looked that up, Liz. Of course I thought about that."

"Ding-dong, the witch is dead!" Patti sang. Then she laughed, fully relishing her victory over her sister. She took Kid's arm again, and pulled him back toward the guillotines. "Call the tank guys now, call the tank guys now!" Patti urged, dragging Kid out of the room. "Hurry, hurry!"

Liz watched them go, then turned toward Death and said, "It could have been worse, I suppose. His first idea was a tarantula. Then Patti started in with this octopus thing, and…" She shrugged. "Democracy rules. I was outvoted."

"But at least you made your voice heard," Death said, grasping for straws. He worried about how unhappy Liz seemed about the whole octopus thing. On the rare occasion when Liz and her sister were at odds about something, then Death's entire family felt unbalanced.

"No, I don't think so," Liz countered. "Neither of them listened to me at all. And you know how Kid gets with the whole not-listening thing." She frowned. "Democracy sucks. But oh well. Maybe when the damn thing dies, I can convince Tsubaki to make those freakin' octopus bread thingies out of it."

"There, there." Death patted her shoulder with one enormous hand. "I would have voted for your kitty-cat."

"Thanks," she said. She smiled at him, with a sort of relaxed familiarity that not even Spirit or Sid, Death's most trusted and closest partners, ever allowed themselves to show around him. Because both Liz and her sister were family now, and because Kid considered them family, they considered themselves family, and now Death considered them family too.

Liz's eyes then lit up with the light of a sudden realization. "Wait a minute. You're serious? You would have voted for a cat?"

"Well, I do like kitty-cats."

"You should have gotten a vote, because you're going to end up taking care of it the most!"

"What do you mean, 'the most'?"

But Liz ignored this question, already busy pulling a pocket mirror out of her purse and frantically scratching numbers into it with one of her long fingernails. "Kid. Kid. Don't call the contractors yet, we have to do a recount!" She smirked down at the mirror. "Tell Patti that she forgot about the absentee ballot."