[ WP ] As it turns out , one of your students is the child of Death , and he decides to come to a PTA meeting .

“ Look, Mr. Darth, ” Mrs. Horton, the kindly sixth-grade math teacher said, “ it ’ s not that we don ’ t want you here. We love it when parents come to these meetings. It ’ s- “ 
 
 “ Death, ” the man in black interjected, his voice as cold and flat as the abyss. “ Darth is from the movies. ” 
 
 “ Right, sorry, Death. ” Mrs. Horton pulled her gray shawl closer around her shoulders. “ I mean, Mr. Death. Sorry. I meant no disrespect. ” 
 
 “ None taken. ” Death said. “ Or possible. ” He tilted his cowl, indicating for her to continue. 
 
 “ Umm. Right. ” Mrs. Horton drew a deep breath. “ Anyway, as I was saying, we love it when parents come to these meetings. It ’ s just that we think you ’ re not being constructive with your criticism. That ’ s something we work on all the time with the kids, learning how to disagree respectfully and calmly. ” She smiled at him reassuringly. 
 
 Death stared at her, his eyes like twin, burning embers in the absolute void. After several heart-stopping seconds, he looked away. “ I ’ m perfectly calm. ” 
 
 “ Frankly, I ’ m not sure I buy that! ” huffed the science teacher, Mr. Edwards. “ Everyone wants the school to be better, but I mean, you can ’ t just go doing – you know – that! Even if you don ’ t like Common Core. ” 
 
 He pointed to the motionless body of Mrs. Armstrong, her eyes still wide open in surprise, one black handprint still smoking on the back of her head. 
 
 The black-robed figure looked down at the body. “ She would shortly have died in an accident while driving drunk. ” Death ’ s voice was like the hiss of air escaping from a crypt. “ Her passing was instrumental to prove my point. ” 
 
 “ And just what point is that? ” Mrs. Francis, the parent-teacher liaison, jumped in. She studiously avoided looking at the body. 
 
 Death was silent for several moments. Finally, he raised one black-robed arm, pointing it at Mrs. Horton. “ I think Daniel should be in advanced math! He ’ s very bright for his age. ” His ember eyes, the only features visible in the shroud of darkness beneath his hood, flared an angry red. “ And these school lunches have been unacceptable. I don ’ t want Daniel eating chicken nuggets three times in a week. ” 
 
 “ Well, Mr. Death, ” Mrs. Horton began slowly, “ I think Daniel has a lot of potential - we all do - but he ’ s just not there yet. Maybe if you could spend some time going over fractions with him? ” 
 
 “ I can not! ” Death roared, causing several dogs to begin howling in the distance. “ Death is constant and infinite! ” 
 
 “ Can not, or will not? Mr. Death, sorry to say it, but what you ’ re saying sure sounds like an excuse. ” Mrs. Horton walked over and, gingerly, patted him on the shoulder. “ A lot of folks struggle with fractions. But if you want, we have a whole list of great tutors who could probably help Daniel out. ” 
 
 Death stared at her, eyes flashing red like a pyre, the room holding its breath. Then he sighed, a sound as dark and deep as the grave, before looking down at his skeletal feet and nodding. “ Perhaps a tutor could be helpful. ” 
 
 The tension eased as the room released its breath. “ As for the chicken nuggets, ” Mr. Johnson, the principal, chimed in, “ it ’ s not like Henrietta and the other ladies in the cafeteria don ’ t want to do better. But we ’ ve been getting killed on these cutbacks lately – err, well, not literally killed. ” He gulped and laughed nervously. “ But you know what I mean. The superintendent won ’ t even let us get fresh fruit anymore! ” 
 
 A chorus of nods swept through the room. “ He cut the school supplies budget, too! ” Mr. Edwards added. “ I had to spend $ 200 this year, out of my own pocket, just so we could do all the labs. ” 
 
 “ I see. Daniel does love the science labs. ” Death paused. “ It appears my ire here was misplaced. ” He nodded, stiff as a corpse, to the assembled teachers and parents. “ The superintendent shall not trouble you further. ” Death rose and walked towards the door. 
 
 Mr. Johnson held out his hand. “ Err, Death? Is there anything you can do about… you know? ” He indicated with his head towards Mrs. Armstrong ’ s body. 
 
 Death paused, then walked back and dropped a single, black flower on the teacher ’ s body. As he left the building, the flower shriveled up and the burning handprint disappeared. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong sat up and looked around in confusion. 
 
 “ Well, ” Mrs. Francis said, “ I think maybe we can call this meeting a little early. Meet again in two weeks? ” The group murmured its approval. 
 
 “ Perfect. ” Mrs. Armstrong said, rubbing the back of her head. “ I could really use a drink. ”
