..And Death Comes Callin' (315 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by zombieZero (View user info) at 2004-09-15 12:20:11 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
What a night.
I had high expectations for the party, but it exceeded even my
wildest dreams. I had no idea who brought the stewardesses, but I
was putting whoever it was on my Christmas list; A little booze, a
little coke...they were a lot of fun and, as it turned out, very
pliable.
I plodded down the hallway with a smile on my face; I'd always
wanted to try that.
I walked into the bathroom, and was just in the process of reaching
for my toothbrush when I spotted the man sitting on my toilet.
"Gah!" I blurted, or something to that effect. The man was dressed
in black shorts with black running shoes, black socks, a black
t-shirt and over that, a black hoodie. His skin was very pale, and
his eyes were a very light shade of blue, staring out from under the
shadow of his brow. He watched me without emotion.
"Er..." I started. The man just watched me.
"Who..?" I started again.
"Work through it," the man said, "I'll wait."
"What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?!" I managed at last.
The man shrugged.
"Waiting for you," he said.
"Who the hell are you?!" I demanded. The man sort of lowered his
voice a bit, giving it a dramatic tone.
"You know who I am..." he said, and let it hang there.
"No I don't," I said, "seriously, who the hell are you? Wait a
minute...were you at the party last night? Did you come with Bob?"
The man looked disappointed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose with
one hand.
"No," he said, switching his voice back to normal, "I did not come
with Bob, whoever that is. God, you know, you people just have no
sense of...I don't know...pageantry. Panache."
"Look, I'm going to call the cops." The man rolled his eyes.
"He's going to call the cops," he muttered to himself, "that's
perfect. Don't you recognize me? You're all supposed to
instinctively recognize me, it's supposed to be written into your
DNA or something."
"That's it, I'm calling the police!" I warned him.
"Again with the police," he said, then reached into his pocket and
drew out a business card, which he handed to me.
I took the card and looked at it:
DEATH - Soul transportation specialist
"Soul transportation specialist?" I asked, not without sarcasm. He
shrugged again.
"I added that," he said, "It used to say just 'Death', but I think
the title kind of adds something, you know? It looks better on the
resume."
"So, what are you saying?" I asked, "that you're Death? THE Death?"
"Boy," he said, "Is your name Sherlock Holmes by any chance? Tell
me, was it the card that gave me away, or -"
"What?!"
"I said 'is your name Sherlock Ho -'"
"I heard you!" I said, "And you are not Death!"
"I am too Death," he insisted.
"Death wears shorts and running shoes?" I asked, "Where's your
cloak?"
"Give me a break, it's summer."
"This is ridiculous! I'm -"
"I know, I know," he interrupted, "you're going to call the cops on
me, blah blah blah. Look, we could hang out in the bathroom all day
and argue about it, or you can follow me and I'll prove it."
He got up off the toilet and breezed by me and out into the hallway.
I followed him, still a little disoriented by the whole strange
encounter.
"Where are we going," I chided, "the afterlife?"
"Not unless your bedroom is the afterlife, smartass," he said over
his shoulder."
***********
"That's me!" I squawked, staring down at the body in the bedroom.
It...I...was lying in my bed, covers in disarray, clearly dead
though with the ghost of a smile at the corners of my blue lips.
"That's me!" Death squawked, "now do you believe me?"
As strange as it all was, I was starting to believe him. In fact,
looking at him now, I did feel like I sort of recognized him a
little. I looked back at his business card.
"You really are Death..."
"Yes," he said.
"Why do you have an email address?"
"Hey, times change," he said. I nodded. It didn't really explain
it, but that much was true and I was a little distracted. I looked
down at the body, MY body, and shook my head.
"I know," he said, "it's always a shock at first."
"I never thought I'd go like this," I said, "I guess I never really
thought about it much at all...I just kind of figured I'd go of
natural causes someday."
"I hate to break it to you Sherlock," Death said snidely, "but when
you're in bed with two stewardesses and an overload of cocaine
causes your heart to explode in the throes of orgasm, it's rarely
classified as 'natural causes'."
"This is Death..." I said, appealing to the heavens, "this is the
Grim Reaper!"
"Yeah, yeah," Death said, "nice name. How about the 'I'm just
trying to do my job Reaper' or the 'I'm just trying to earn a living
like everybody else Reaper'? I realize this is like, the biggest
tragedy of your life, but I do this a gazillion times a year. I'm
not that grim about it."
There was something about his expression that I kind of understood,
right then. I could sort of feel for him.
"What about the girls?" I asked.
"Traumatized, no thanks to you Mr. Life in the Fast Lane."
"Okay, okay..." I said holding up my hands, "Look, I'm sorry we got
off on the wrong foot. I guess you just weren't what I expected.
Aren't you supposed to carry a big scythe or something?"
"I used to," he said, "now I just use this." He pulled what looked
like some little electronic device out of his pocket.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Your puny mind wouldn't understand," he said, stuffing the device
back in his pocket, "...I mean, puny compared to mine. No offense."
"Oh, hey, none taken," I said, peeved.
"Sorry," Death said, "your file didn't say anything about being
sensitive. I take it back; you're a real Einstein."
"So Einstein's mind wasn't puny?" I asked.
"No, he was an idiot too."
"You know, you've got kind of an attitude problem," I told him.
"Yeah I know," he said, "but I'm also ranking very high in the job
security department so it kind of works out."
"Seriously," I pressed, "this is part of your problem...you say we
don't appreciate panache anymore, but what do you expect? You're
not the Grim Reaper, you're more like the Disgruntled Reaper. How
much awe is that supposed to inspire?"
"Hey, you try transporting souls from here to the Plane of
Transinfinite Splendor from the beginning to the end of time and see
how long you maintain your excitement level."
"So, take a break," I suggested.
"I can't take a break," Death insisted, "how are the souls going to
get to the POTS? They'd probably just stack up in Limbo and that's
all I need; a whole bucketload of guys like you floating around and
yakking in my ear for all eternity."
"Can't you draw them a map or something?" I asked, but Death was
already shaking his head.
"I thought of that," he said, "it's too complicated. Not just
anyone can do this, you know, I'm a specialist."
"Your card mentioned that," I said, "what about the souls who are
already there?"
"Where?"
"The Plane of Transinfinite Bliss."
"Splendor," Death corrected, "what about them?"
"Teach them the route," I said, "get them to kick in. There must be
tons of them...it wouldn't have to cut into their afterlife too bad,
just once in a while for like a few days. Kind of like jury duty."
Death was still shaking his head, but I could see he was thinking
about it.
"Do you know how long it would take to teach those souls the route?"
he said, half to himself.
"They've got someplace to be? I'm on to something, admit it."
Death just stood there for a long time, stroking his chin and
staring off to one side. His eyes were taking on a little twinkle;
just barely, but it looked like those eyes hadn't known excitement
in a long, long time.
"Okay Sherlock," he said at last, "I'll admit, I like your style.
Come on, we'll talk about it on the way."
And with those words, the edges of the reality began to fray around
us. The world I knew began to fade, and fall away. I felt scared,
but somehow, I felt a connection to Death, and knew that he would
guide me safely to whatever lay ahead.
"Hey, can I get business cards too?" I asked as everything faded to
nothing, and fell into an infinite starry sky in all directions.
"Go nuts," Death said, "It's your afterlife..."
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 12:33:46 EST (#)
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