Death And Commercialism

29 Jun

“I’m tired…I think it’s my turn to die.”

I opened my eyes when I heard this strange voice in what was suppose to be an empty room. The rope around my neck was squeezing tighter and tighter by the second, blurring my vision…but I was still able to make out the hooded, tall, figure standing there with his iconic sickle in one hand.

Death himself.

I started kicking my feet spastically. I couldn’t help it. I looked down at my hands clutching the rope and they were turning blue. Death came closer, his hooded robe touching my forehead. I looked into the black void where his face was suppose to be and saw vast stars and galaxies and ancient things.

Things I could not describe or imagine on my own, but somehow I knew they were ancient…and a tad bit moldy.

Death cut my rope with his sickle, and I fell to the floor…hard.

I rolled, and coughed, and sputtered,

“What the fuck did you do that for? Aren’t you suppose to be taking me to heaven or hell…or wherever?”

Death knelt on one knee, supporting himself with his sickle, and looked right into my eyes, “That would be Sheol, for killing yourself, but not today. Today it’s my turn.”

A fat, bloated, maggot fell from his cloak and fell to the floor where it burst open.

“Aren’t you already dead?” I asked with one eyebrow raised, a trick I had been practicing for years.

“Yes and no,” Death responded. “I grow tried of this job. I have been doing the same thing for eons…day in, and day out…seven days a week, 365 a year. I’m done. I’m burnt out.”

“Can’t you request to do something else from…um…the higher power…or powers?” I stammered.

“I’m under contract,” Death said coldly.

“Oh,” I said. “Well that’s a problem.”

“Indeed,” said Death.

“Have you tried breaking your contract?”

“I can do that?” Death looked shocked, well to be honest…that was a guess. Remember his face is covered with a hood.

“Yes,” I smiled looking very smug. “There is usually some sort of penalty, but yes you should be able to break your contract.”

Death stood up and raised his hand in the air. A flash of lighting and some dramatic smoke, just like in the movies, filled the room. Death’s hand now contained a huge scroll. He un-flapped the scroll with a flick of his boney wrist.

“Let’s see here,” muttered Death. “Section One….Uniform….Vacation Time…Section Twelve…Overtime….Section Sixty-Four…Insurance…I don’t see anything.”

Death hands me the scroll, “Here, you find it.”

I look at the writing on the scroll. Of course it’s in a weird language…yet vaguely familiar.

“Um, I don’t know what language this is written in.”

Death snickers. “Really?! It’s written in Dinosaur Latin. Everyone knows Dinosaur Latin.”

“Dinosaur Latin?” I’m taken aback. “I have never heard of Dinosaur Latin. Pig Latin, maybe…but not Dinosaur Latin.”

Death pauses, “Oh yeah…Dinosaur Latin came before Pig Latin. My bad.”

We just stare at each other in awkward silence.

“So, um…should I still go about killing myself, or are you taking me to hell?” I ask to break the quiet.

“It’s called, Sheol,” Death corrects me. “And no, I’m on strike. Take yourself to Sheol.”

“Okkkkk…how do I get there?”

“Google it,” Death says and crosses his arms. “I’m going to the Outback Steakhouse, and ordering a blooming onion. They are so good.”

And Death left in a puff of grey-black smoke.

I didn’t run into Death again for another 67 years, for I decided not to take my life after all, and hang out on the Earth for awhile.

That fateful night, Death visited me in the hospital where I was dying of lung cancer, and as he leaned in close to my face to whisper my death sentence, his breath smelled like onions.



I like to welcome my new sponsor, The Outback Steakhouse. Let’s go Outback tonight! Mention you got this coupon on and receive a free strange look from the hostess.


10 Responses to “Death And Commercialism”

  1. RFL June 29, 2012 at 3:55 PM #

    Now I’m singing the Outback song. Those bloomin’ onions are fancy 🙂 Good one!

  2. Maggie O'C June 29, 2012 at 4:26 PM #

    Dude! You are twisted.

  3. davidhardingblogs June 29, 2012 at 9:22 PM #

    Blooming Onions rock.

  4. Missus Tribble June 30, 2012 at 12:45 AM #

    Oh this is brilliant – very Pratchett but with a slightly darker edge! 😀

    I’m going to have to Google for Blooming Onion now…

  5. Russel Ray Photos July 21, 2012 at 8:34 PM #

    Thanks for letting me camp out in your blog for a little while today. I had a great time and tried to leave my campsite as good as when I arrived. I’ll be back!

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