PHILADELPHIA – The angel of death reports that he is happy to be doing his part in the ongoing process of devouring human souls.
“It’s so exciting to be part of something like this,” said the Grim Reaper, grinning good-naturedly through a mouthful of braces. “I want to be useful to my team, and I want to make sure my team leader – Brad, who is such a good guy, oh my God – I just want Brad to know that he can depend on me.”
He then checked his pocket-protector for pens, admonished himself for not remembering to bring one, said he always does that, found a pen in his pants pocket, marveled at how stupid that was, and put a check mark next to an asterix next to the name of his next victim. The previous name was accompanied by a check mark and an asterix as well, but was also crossed out.
“I just have this system,” Death said sheepishly about the odd notation. “It’s stupid, I know, it’s stupid, but it’s just the way I got used to doing it and now I can’t go back. Do you know what I mean?”
Continuing a job he has held since the beginning of all life, the reaper of souls proceeded with his work at a steady pace until exactly twelve noon, when an alarm sounded on his gargantuan wristwatch.
“Lunchtime! Yummy!” he called out brightly, unconsciously imitating the inflection of Jim Carrey in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. He then drew out a ham-and-cheese sandwich on white bread (crusts cut off) and a juice box, the same lunch he has packed every day for eons.
After munching away happily, Death grew philosophical. “A lot of people think I shouldn’t do this, like what I’m doing isn’t right, but…I don’t know. I mean, for one thing, I don’t think Brad would ask me to do something that was wrong! Can you imagine that? His wife’s adorable, she brought shortbread to the Christmas party. And I get my own little space, and I can put up anything I want. I can even play music on my headphones if it’s not too loud.”
A serene look shone in the endless darkness of Death’s eyes. “It’s so nice to feel useful.”