Making Three

Death and Life are at a party. Death flirts with Life. Life flirts back. Next thing you know, it’s off with the robes.

“You’re so hard,” Life comments, running her hands over Death’s ribcage.

“Ossific,” Death confirms, leaning in for a kiss. “Or, perhaps, ossifilicious.”

“Mm,” Life says.

That’s all that there was to it, or at least all there was supposed to be; but it didn’t take very long before Death got the call.

“There’s a pink line,” Life says. “Well, two.”

“I didn’t even know I was virile,” Death admits. But when the baby comes, she’s really bony, so he has to admit it’s pretty likely.

It isn’t bad, really, even though life and death have busy schedules that don’t often meet. They name the girl Jill and raise her in the twilight place between their kingdoms. She nurses on life and has death’s tending.

“Peekaboo,” Death says. He covers the child’s eyes with his hand. It’s bony, but she’s pretty young, so she has small eyes. She wriggles her nose. He removes his hand. She beams.

“Peekaboo,” Death says. He covers the child’s eyes with his hand. She wriggles her nose. He removes his hand. She beams.

“Peekaboo,” Death adds. He covers the child’s eyes with his hand. She wriggles her nose. He removes his hand. Death is gone. Jill looks around in confusion. She begins to wail. Soon Life rushes in.

“What are you doing?” Life asks, annoyed.

Death reappears. He looks confused at her annoyance. “It’s peekaboo,” he says. “I’m teaching her object permanence.”

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