“So I am Death,” Charlie said as he tried to construct a tuna-fish sandwich. “Daddy is Death, sweetie.” He checked the toast, not trusting the pop-up mechanism because the toaster people sometimes just like to fuck with you.
Sophie blew a spit bubble of sympathy. Charlie popped the toast up manually. It was a little rare, but if he pushed it down again it would burn, unless he watched it every second and popped it up manually again. So now he’d probably be infected with some rare and debilitating undercooked toast pathogen. Mad toast disease! Fucking toaster people.
“This is the toast of Death, young lady.” He showed her the toast. “Death’s toast.”
The can opener slipped again, spurting tuna juice on his shirt and sending his toast scooting to the floor, and now there was fuzz on it. Fuzz on his toast! Fuzz on the toast of Death. What the hell good was it to be the Lord of the Underworld if there was fuzz on your underdone toast. “Fuck!”
I just finished this book and I have got to say there is something about the way Christopher Moore writes his books… that I would totally hope that he writes how he talks. If that be the case, we would be best friends. The excerpt above is from a part, roughly in the beginning of the book, where Charlie Asher realizes after having a conversation with a sexy red-head, that he is in fact Death. Well not really death but a “Merchant of Death.”
Charlie Asher is a single father, after losing his wife after childbirth of their daughter Sophie, finds out that somehow, he was chosen to act as a merchant of death. To guide vessels with souls to people who they belong to. Meanwhile, if he messes up and something from the Underworld gets a hold of a vessel, it could mean the end of humanity.
Christopher Moore’s books are completely comedic and easy reads. If you are person who gets offended over small things, I would avoid his books. Lots of cuss words that probably would not be appropriate for the younger crowd. Otherwise, I would completely recommend this book.