Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

*HALLOWEEN SPECIAL* "Freaky is my BFF"

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MY DARLINGS! Are you ready to get FREAKY?!?!?!

Don't forget to vote and leave spooky feedback!

The following Death is my BFF short story was inspired by the movie, "Freaky Friday," and does not line up with the current novel you are reading, "Death is my BFFLAD." It does not necessarily follow the future of the actual Death Chronicles.... 

            "Five years!" I exploded, smacking a dish towel against Death's bare chest, "We've been together for five years. Five long trying years with a lot of stress weight fluctuations, and you still won't do a single load of laundry? Are you even listening to me?"

"Uh-huh, I'm listening," Death said distractedly, lifting another Cool Ranch Dorito to his mouth. He was lounged back on the couch with an arrangement of Doritos, Spicy Funions, sour patch kids, Takis, with a flat screen in front him displaying a Saw III. "Something about you getting chubby..."

Fuming, I put my hands on my hips and slid in front of the television screen. Death leaned over to peer at the screen around me and bits of chips crunched under his elbow. "Babe, you're in the way. This is the best part!"

"Aw, I'm sorry, are my muffin tops blocking your viewing time? They must be crowding our bed, too. I hope that couch is super comfy, since you'll be sleeping on it tonight."

Death finally tore his gaze from the TV and blinked. "Huh?"

"You said that I'm fat," I said slowly. "You called me chubby."

Death's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed "I did?" When he continued to look at me with a dumb expression, I lunged forward and grabbed an armful off all his snacks, including the Doritos remaining in his hand, ripping it right out of his gloved fingers.

"Hey! What the hell?" he growled, his mismatched green eyes flashing to life. "You better give me back my Takis, woman!"

"Listen here, Grim Butt. You have to start pulling your weight around here. A weight, which, is much heavier than I am. Just saying."

Death peeled himself off the couch and rose to his egregious height. "Alright, alright, can you calm down? I didn't mean to call you fat. Are you really picking fights again? You've been up my ass all week about every little thing."

"I have not, Death. You refuse to help out around here, and you've made it blatantly obvious that you're stuck in the caveman era, since all the "womanly" chores are to be done by the only woman in the house. I'm tired of it."

He wiped a few crumbs absently off of his tattooed abs. It was so unfair that he could eat anything he wanted and still look like, well, a god. The only aspects of him that showed that he'd been letting go of himself was the longish length of his obsidian black hair and his two weeks' worth of stubble. "I help out around here..."

"Oh, so you're going to vacuum up the bits of man dirt and chips you just flung all over the carpet?"

He stared down at the floor, picked at his pierced nose, and shrugged. "Cruentas will lick those up."

"That's IT!" I threw his snacks at him and stormed off to the bedroom. "I'm not cleaning the bloodstains out of your t-shirts anymore!"

Death followed me close behind. "Hey, hey now hold up! Just because you stomp away doesn't mean the conversation is over. You're the only one capable of get that blood stain out of my––"