Death is My BFF Rewritten (Book 1 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 1: Ten Thirty-Two AM

        I was six years old when I first met Death. I remember that day perfectly, as if it was yesterday. It was a hot summer day in Chicago, and my mother was going food shopping after finding an empty box of waffle mix in the kitchen pantry and no milk or eggs in the fridge. 

                From the living room, I could hear her Mom shifting around pots and pans and gathering her keys. Mom was a multi-tasker. Many times I'd caught her making mac and cheese, talking on the phone, and reading a book--all while doing paper work from her office. She never stopped moving. I used to draw pictures of her as an octopus because I thought she needed eight arms in order to do all of those tasks at the same time. 

              Mom briefly poked her head into the living room, a bob of short blonde hair and a warm smile. "Henry, do want anything at the market? I'm thinking breakfast for dinner tonight." 

              "Don't forget the bacon," Dad said. "Lots of bacon."

            My father was sitting on the couch reading a recently dated newspaper, while I doodled a portrait of my teddy bear, Mr. Wiggles, on the coffee table by his feet. Who needed paper when you could use markers on wood? That afternoon, my father  was relaxing after work and reading the sports section of the newspaper. I sat by his feet and drew squiggly lines on important bills and documents, that he unknowingly left out in the open for the notorious doodler herself to discover.

                "Lots of bacon. Check." Mom winked at me. "And lots of waffles. I'll be back in an hour, I have some other errands to make."

            Waffles.

         The mere sound of my favorite food bouncing around in my head made my marker pause. Waffles. I dropped my marker, grasped Mr. Wiggles by the upper arm, and dashed into the kitchen at full speed. 

            Let me tell you something about that bear full of fluff. Mr. Wiggles was a loyal friend of mine. We ate together, slept together, and bathed together. (That last one hadn't really worked out as I hoped it would, thank god for a dryer.) He was always at my hip, under my armpit, or on a pink leash dragging on the floor behind me. Sure, he had picked up a few holes and scratches on his eyeball since the day I had received him as a baby, but I loved him just as much as the first day I dribbled on his ear. Mr. Wiggles and I had a strong relationship. We'd only needed couples therapy three times. No matter what, that furry bear--whether it was unwillingly or willingly on his behalf, had always been glued to my side, and had been the most protective man in my life, well, up until...never mind.

            "Can Mr. Wiggles and I go with you, Mommy?"

            "Yes, but you have to give me a huge kiss before we go anywhere," she said, smiling. "No slobber. Mr. Wiggles has to give me one too."

            "Mwa!" I kissed her cheek. Mr. Wiggles was shy around other girls besides myself, so he only gave her neck a hug with his fluffy arms.

            Mom  and I went through the garage to the family car. She buckled me up, got in the driver seat, and turned on the car. As we drove through our neighborhood, I counted the trees that passed by on the road, hopping up and down as the car went over bumps.

            About halfway to the market, I started to feel a twinge of pain in my body. Making a small grunt of pain, I squeezed Mr. Wiggles to my tummy.

          "What's wrong, honey?" Mom asked, blue eyes glancing anxiously in the rear view mirror. "Are you getting car sick?

             "My stomach is hurting me."