Date Night

“Would you die with me?”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. I met you ten seconds ago and you’re already asking me to die.”

“Well, this IS speed-dating.”

“So is that a question you typically save for the third date?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never asked that question before.”

“Oh. I feel special then.”

“Well, I’ve never had a third date either.”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine why.”

“I’ve never asked for one.”

“Would you ask ME for one?”

“Would you die with me?”

“Wouldn’t most people want to know if someone would die FOR them?”

“Oh, I would never ask that.”

“No?”

“No, I don’t want the love of my life to die before I do. I’d be lonely and bored and have to do this dating thing all over again.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Yeah. So I’d just die with her.”

“What if she’s only 35 and chokes to death on a Brussels sprout?”

“I don’t like those. I’d have to find something else to choke on.”

“Yes.”

“Like a cherry tomato or something– Yes?”

“Yes. I would. Now what?”

“Will you go on a third date with me?”

“This is only our first and I don’t even think speed-dating counts as an actual first date.”

“But I already know I want the third date.”

“SWITCH!”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So. What brings a lovely lady like you here?”

“My boyfriend died.”

“Oh. So sorry.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t that serious I guess.”

“Still.”

“I mean, I didn’t love him enough to die with him or anything like that.”

“Ah. So. What…uh…what do you like to do on a date?”

“Do?”

“Yeah, like dinner, movie, bowling…”

“Oh. I suppose jump off tall buildings. Stuff like that.”

“Um. I don’t know that I’d like that very much.”

“We could hold hands.”

“During a movie?”

“Jumping.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Would you ask me on a third date?”

“Uh. I wouldn’t know at this point.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Sure, then.”

“No. If we jumped on our first date, we’d be dead. ”

“Okay…”

“SWITCH!”

“Thank God.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“Back again.”

“So this is our second date, then.”

“That it is. You must be planning the wedding by now.”

“I’m a modern girl. I’m skipping right to baby names.”

“A real modern girl would skip that, too.”

“Skip to what?”

“The divorce settlement.”

“I’m not divorcing you. I’m dying with you, remember?”

“Ah, you’re planning the funeral. I want a third date with you.”

“Let’s go.”

“Our second one isn’t finished yet.”

“Yes it is. I have to go. My cat…”

“Your cat?”

“Dying. My cat is dying. Cat sitter just called while you were gone.”

“Oh. What’s her name?”

“The cat sitter?”

“The cat.”

“Oh. It’s Clawed.”

“Oh, Claude’s a boy.”

“Yes, and he’s hanging onto his 9th life by a whisker, so I need to go.”

“Okay, it was nice having a second date with you. See you next time.”

“Okay.”

“SWITCH!”

“You’re still here. Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I break rules. So, what would you like to do on our third date?”

” I don’t know. Jump off a tall building or something?”

“I’d like that very much. Take my hand. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

“So how’s Claude doing?”

“Still dying. I’ll show you. Want to come?”

“You’ll show me your pussy and get me off? Don’t have to ask me twice.”

“SO dying. Only you can save him.”

“We’d better hurry. I have to say I’m a little scared your pussy’s a male named Claude, though. Claude. Clawed. I just realized…”

“Yeah, I can’t think that quickly on the spot.”

“Here. Let’s go around back, where it’s darker. That Claude is one filthy alley cat. With dirty whiskers.”

“And dying…”

“Needs a good cleaning. I know how to bring your pussy back  to life.”

“Oh-ho-ho yes. It seems you do.”

“I love date night. And I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Next Thursday?”

“Next Thursday.”

 

“Are you okay?”

“I die a little  every time I go.”

“Then why go?”

“We used to do it every Thursday.”

“Maybe you should stop going.”

“I have no choice.”

“I know you feel that way but you need to–”

“I need to be with him.”

“He’s gone.”

“I should’ve gone with him.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I told him I would.”

“Sometimes we say things.”

“I let the love of my life die without me and now I have to do this dating thing all over again.”

“Maybe it’s too soon.”

“Is the only way.”

“It’s only been 9 weeks.”

“Nine weeks I’ve been left hanging here by a… by a thread.”

I know. It’s hard.”

“He’s the only one who can save me.”

“Are you going again next week?”

“Yes, but next Thursday will be my last date with Death.”

“Good, so you’ll be done with this whole ridiculous thing then?”

“Would you jump off a tall building?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“No, with me?”

“Sure. Why not. I need to go now though.”

“See you next time.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re still here.”

“Is that against the rules?”

“Yeah, in fact, it is.”

“Well, I break rules.”

“He always said that.”

“Hold my hand.”

“Would you die with me?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Who would plan your funeral?”

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