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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2093162-Talked-to-Death
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Comedy · #2093162
All dialogue: Death meets his next assignment, Ben. Digressions abound.
“Whoa! Who are you?”

“Hello, Ben.”

“Where’d you come from? And what’s that smell?”

“Ben, I’m from the underworld. I’ve come to ferry your soul to the Soul Realm, the Nethers. … And that smell is my robe. I dragged it through a pile of doggie drops on the way here.”

“Okay. Tons of questions. What?”

“… Are there more? You said ‘tons’.”

“I mean, what?”

“Okay, that’s two so I guess I’ll answer something. I’m Death. Hi. I’m coming to collect you.”


“Yeah, see, the thing is your soul has been on loan from the Nethers. Your lease is up and I’m here to take it back.”

“Take back my lease?”

“Take back your soul.”

“Oh. That makes more sense. I think. So you’re Death?”

“In the flesh. So to speak.”

“How long you been Death?”


“You got cotton in your ears? How long you been goin’ ‘round collecting leased souls?”

“Gosh, no one’s ever asked. Well, the thing is that I was mortal just like you. And then Death came for my soul—Good gravy, that stuff stinks! What did that dog eat?”

“Are you tracking it on my carpet?”

“Uh, no. No, we’re good. Anyway, Death came to me, collecting, and he seemed down.”

“Well yeah, you’re about to die!”

“No, he seemed down. Death. The Death before me.”

“Who before you?”

“Ben, I’m the latest in a string of Deaths. It’s not a permanent position!”

“Oh. My shampooer doesn’t work so well. Can we move this to the kitchen?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Great. Preesh.”

Anyway, the other Death, the one before me, said he was tired of being Death. I asked him how he stopped and he told me that I just had to look deep into his eyes and take his scythe and then I’d be Death.”

“You are Death. You just said it.”

“Uh, am I here because you just swallowed some bleach or something? Is that how you’re dying today?”

“You said something about a lease. I’m dying?!

“Yes! You’re dying! I’m here because you are about to die!”

“Oh, man! That sucks! And look! You did get that on my carpet!”

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“White carpets are hard to clean!”

“You’re about to die! It doesn’t matter! None of this matters!”

“Then why are you here? Dragging a mess through my living room? You got a real sack on ya, man!”

“No, I don’t. I’m nothing but bones under this robe.”

“Dude, I don’t swing that way. You need to leave.”

“Dear Lord, I wish I could! But I need to wait for you to die so I can take your soul.”

“No, you’re an asshole!”

“What? I didn’t even say… Forget it! You want me to go?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Fine! Just look me in the eye and tell me.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Oh, can you hold this?”

“Whatever gets you outta here, ya jerk!—What the…?!”

“Congratulations, Ben! You’re the new Death!”

Word Count: 490
© Copyright 2016 Than Pence (zhencoff at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2093162-Talked-to-Death