Well, this week sucked. I wasn't even used to the idea of David Bowie being gone when I found out Alan Rickman died. Figured the best way to deal was to have my characters deal. Enjoy, or cry, or both. Yeah...definitely both.  

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UNDEAD AND UNFAIR
"David Bowie and Alan Rickman in the same week?" I threw my phone at the wall, expecting a satisfying racket. My aim was off, so it punched through the kitchen window instead. "This. Week. SUCKS." 
"My condolences, darling." Sinclair tore himself away from the WSJ long enough to give me a sympathetic glance. "I know it grieves you when celebrities you've never met pass away."
"You're a soulless monster," I informed the love of my life. "You don't have to know someone to feel sad when they're gone."
"What's wrong?" Tina came into the kitchen at a near-run. "Are you all right? Is someone hurt? Your phone is on the lawn."
"A singer and an actor died. The queen grieves."
"Oh. My sympathies. Ah..." Tina's eyes went narrow as she thought. "Their art lives on?"
"You two suck at this. I need--"
The swinging door swung in so hard, whoever shoved it had to leap back to avoid a broken nose, then jump into the kitchen on the forward swing. "Betsy! Ziggy Stardust and Hans Gruber are dead!"
"I know." Marc nearly knocked me down as he rushed me for a hug. "I know, it's awful. They're not, though, not really. David's dancing in the streets and Alan's sitting on a beach, earning twenty percent."
A sniffle against my shoulder was his only response. "D'you want to binge watch Harry Potter?" I asked, patting him. "And Labyrinth and Zoolander and The Prestige? And drink mourning smoothies?"
"Uh-huh."
"Okay then." I glared at the puzzled vampires. "We're taking the week off. If you need us, we'll be admiring Snape's Prince Valiant haircut while blasting Let's Dance and drinking mourning smoothies, which are totally different from morning smoothies."
"As you like, my own."
"Majesty," Tina said with a small bow in my direction--ugh. She knew bows made me itch.
"I can't believe they're gone," Marc sniffled, following me down the hall.
"I know. C'mon. Let's go be sad for a couple of days."
"Just a couple?"
"Let's take stock after forty-eight hours. Okay?"
Marc reached for my hand, gripped it. "Okay."
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