Death picked up his scythe and went to work. Only he was fed up with the ingratitude. The way people reacted, you’d swear they were entitled to live forever.
‘Let’s see how they get on without me!’ He huffed and he laid down his scythe and headed for the bar.
Nobody died! The old just got older. The world rejoiced, went a little mad. Death was plied with free Mohitos. The undertakers, coffin makers and life insurance brokers changed careers. It was great!
Only life became… overcrowded. Food got short. Death started getting dirty looks. An envoy of world leaders came to visit him. The orangey obnoxious one said,
‘I have great respect for you. Hell… I like you. But you have to get rid of the losers.’
Death grinned. That sounded like a personal invitation, he was happy to accept. Death picked up his scythe and went to work.
Oh I do so hope he scythed the orangey one first!
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