Death and Cupcakes

The cold metal gun barrel knocked against Louie’s teeth. His hands shook as he perched on the wooden stool in his bakery’s kitchen. He knew he was just running away from his problems, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed it to stop. He needed out.

Since he was a small boy, he’d always loved baking. His grandmother had worked in a famous bakery in Paris when she was young, and she’d taught him everything she knew before she died.

His one dream had always been to own his own bakery. He worked long hours in restaurants in Los Angeles for many years before scraping together enough money to be able to get a business loan.

He’d opened the cupcake bakery thinking he would be a big success. Cupcakes were a hot commodity and things were great at the beginning. Everyone loved his cupcakes. The accolades from the local newspapers hung on his wall.

But before long, new cupcake bakeries popped up like dandelions on every block. His regular customers were lured away to try the newest thing. Some of them came back, but not enough. The returning customers assured him that his cupcakes were still the best in town, but there was always a new place for them to try, somewhere else for them to spend their money instead of at his bakery.

He reached a point where he had to cut costs. First, he got rid of his staff and did everything himself. He worked around the clock and caught a few hours of sleep when he could, often on the folding cot in the tiny back office. It still wasn’t enough. He was so tired that he started making mistakes.

It hurt his heart when he had to reduce the cost of his ingredients. He’d always prided himself on using only the best. The quality of his cupcakes started to slip, which only made things worse. Failure barreled toward him like a freight train now, gaining momentum, and he felt tied to the tracks.

His life savings were already long gone and just looking at his credit card balances made him nauseous. The debt kept piling up every month like a mountain of dirt on his chest, pushing him down into a dark pit and smothering him. There was no way he would ever catch up now.

All those years of working so hard to save up for the startup cash to open the bakery of his dreams were wasted. It was over and soon everyone would know he was a failure. He couldn’t bear for his family and friends to find out after they had been so proud of him. He couldn’t take the shame.

At least he didn’t have any kids to let down. His relationships hadn’t survived the long hours he’d worked all his adult life. He just never had enough energy left over for anyone else.

His heart raced and a bead of sweat ran down his bald head to his nose. He closed his eyes and put his index finger on the smooth trigger. Soon it will all be over.

As he was about to pull the trigger, the bell above the front door rang. Someone was here.

His eyes popped open.

I can’t pull the trigger now. It wouldn’t be right. He couldn’t traumatize a customer that way.

Louie carefully set the gun down on the stainless-steel countertop. He took a deep breath, stood up from the stool, and smoothed the flour-covered apron over his legs. He tried to curl his lips into a smile as he went through the door to the front of the bakery.

Just one final customer. I can do this.

A man in a long black robe was behind the counter helping himself to a cupcake from inside the glass case.

A thief, just my luck. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying your double chocolate this time.” The man turned around and took a bite of the cupcake. The hood of his robe obscured his face.

The nerve of this guy. “You didn’t pay for that.”

The man shrugged. “If you’d actually pulled the trigger, they’d all go to waste anyway.”

A chill ran down Louie’s spine. “How do you know about that? Who are you?”

“You’d probably call me Death. You summoned me when you put your finger on the trigger with the intention to pull it. I simply came to do my job and collect your soul. But it seems like you’ve changed your mind again.”

Death? This is surreal. Maybe I’m already dead.

“I… thought you were a customer,” Louie stammered. “It would have been wrong to pull the trigger in front of a customer.”

“Like I said, you’re still not ready. But I traveled a long way to be here for you, Louie, so I at least deserve a cupcake.” He pointed at the cupcake. “This frosting is insanely good, by the way.”

“I just don’t see another way out of this mess.”

“We went through this whole thing last month when your bills were due.”

Is this guy crazy? “I don’t remember anything like that.”

“Side effect of my job, I’m afraid. Makes it hard to socialize with humans, not that I bother very often. Last time, you taught me the secrets of your delicious red velvet cupcakes. My friends in the Underworld just love them.”

Louie’s mind spun as he tried to process that information. “What?”

“Last month, you also told me that you loved baking other things like croissants. Why don’t you branch out from cupcakes and actually try to save this place instead of summoning me every month? I do enjoy the baking lessons, but you’re putting yourself through hell in the meantime.”

“I don’t know,” Louie said. “I followed the business advice of focusing on something I did well and was in demand. I even put ‘Cupcakes’ in the name of the bakery. It would be like starting over.”

“Is starting over really so much worse than dying?”

Louie rubbed his face. “I don’t know. I guess not. But I’m failing and I just want out.”

“I see people hitting the escape button every day, cutting short their already brief human lives. I’d hate for your talent to go to waste. These are the best cupcakes I’ve ever tasted and that’s saying a lot.”

“Thanks,” Louie said. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

Death smiled as he finished the last bite of the cupcake and tossed the wrapper in the trash. “I have a business proposal for you, Louie. I’ll pay off your debt in exchange for half ownership of the bakery. You’d still get to run it.”

“That sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

“I get free cupcakes forever, of course.” He stepped closer to Louie and leaned in. “And you won’t be able to run away from this deal by killing yourself, because I’ll be the one reaping your soul.”

Louie gulped and took a step back. “I see.”

Even more pressure to succeed. But if he didn’t have any debt to worry about paying, it wouldn’t be a problem. The offer was tempting. Too tempting.

Death said, “If you don’t mind some unusual customers, I’ll also put the word out in the Underworld. I know some good marketing people.”

Louie thought for a moment. He’d never been afraid of the strange and unusual. Death said he wanted to bail him out and be his business partner, but what other strings might be attached to a deal like that?

“I don’t care what customers look like, as long as they pay,” Louie said. “I appreciate your offer, but I’d like to see the fine print of your proposal in writing before I agree to anything.”

“Very wise. I’ll have my legal team draft something up. Well, you’ll definitely want to remember this conversation.”

Death lowered the hood of his black cloak, revealing the face of a man in his twenties with black hair and dark eyes. He put his hand out to shake Louie’s.

“I’m Rathos. Teach me how to make chocolate croissants as good as your grandmother’s and we can be friends.”