He called himself John. He had a dark hood on, his face was engulfed in darkness and he had a scythe. I showed him in, asked him to sit. He did. We didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Silence. Finally I asked him, “Who are you?” He replied, “I am death.” I asked him, “What are you here for?” He didn’t reply. I asked him again. He didn’t reply. A couple minutes of silence followed. Quiet. I asked him “Do you want anything to drink?” He replies, “Some tea please.” I went into the kitchen and got some tea. He drank. I drank. More silence. I asked him again “What are you here for?” Slowly sipping his tea, he replied “I am bored of my job.” “Oh,” said I. He finished his tea. So did I. He reached into his pocket and took a tomato out. He started eating it. The juice trickled down his body, and onto my new carpet.
“What are you doing?”
“Eating a tomato”
“You are ruining my new carpet”
“Oh”
“Clean it”
He didn’t say anything. I asked him again. No response. Then again, more kindly, still no response. I went into the kitchen to get a washcloth. I came back and the stain was gone. I sat down, getting tired of the awkward silence, I put on some music. I sat down, and even though I couldn’t see John’s face, I could tell he didn’t like the music. I didn’t do anything, till finally he said “Turn it off.” I did.
I sat back down at the table. I suddenly realized I still didn’t know why he was here. I asked him again. He sighed deeply and said that he was getting old. He said that he was about to die, and that he needed to pass his job onto another person. I looked at him with disbelief. He told me not to give him that look, but I couldn’t believe it and still gave him that look. He turned around and said that I needed to take the job. He said “without death in this world, the world is like a soulless flower.” I still couldn’t believe it. The look of disbelief slowly disappeared from my face like a shadow. I asked him the one question all humans ask, “Why me?”
He looked at me, I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew he was looking at me, he said “why you? Why ME? I was once like you. Being death isn’t that bad, until you realize that you can’t escape your self. Yes, Death dies one day, that’s why I need you. ”
“But why me? Out of all the people, why me? Why not my neighbor?!”
“Your neighbor has a soul.”
“Why not the other billion people in the world?!”
“They all have souls”
“I have a soul”
“No you don’t”
“Yes I do”
“No.”
“Yes”
“No.”
“YES!”
“NO!”
His booming voice over powered my voice like a cloudy sky and left me silent.
“Who said I don’t have a soul?” said I.
“God”
“There is a god?”
“Yes.”
“Who says?”
“I do. I know. I get orders from him. We also have an occasional beer together.”
“God drinks beer?”
“Yes.”
“What brand?”
“See what I mean? These companies have taken your soul. Does the brand of beer really matter? What matters is that he drinks, what does the brand have to do with anything?”
I said nothing. It was true. My soul was eaten by these companies. If I got a toaster, I had to get it made by Toastermaster. If I got a TV, it had to be made by Sony. He was right.
“How do you know this?” I asked.
“God told me.”
“Why can’t God give me my soul back?”
“It’s not written in the book.”
“What book?”
“The book.”
I pondered upon what John had said. I sat there, silent. I wondered if I should give in. Should I be death? If I am going to be death or not, I am going to die one day, I decided to ask John for more time.
“Why of course, I know this is sudden, but I’ll come back later in a week. Have your self a good time, well what’s left of it anyway.”
“Wait,” said I, “Do you want to eat or drink something before you leave?”
“Well if you’re going to be so kind, sure!”
I went into the kitchen and made him my last bagel, and a glass of orange juice. As I was in the kitchen making a bagel, I wondered to my self what I would do. I thought about it as the bagel was being toasted. I noticed my hand sliding to a knife and putting it in my pocket. I went over to John as the bagel was still being toasted and asked him if would like to watch some TV. I had just bought the new HD TV from Sony. Perfect picture.
“Sure put the game on,” said John.
I turned the TV on. As his face was facing the TV, I went behind him, and briskly took my knife out and slit his throat. I didn’t think about the consequence of this, until after he was lying on the floor motionless. I looked at my knife to find out there was no trace of blood or anything, only the knife had rusted. I got a look of happiness over my face, and decided to celebrate my victory over some beer. After a good big glass, I decided to burn John’s body. As the body burned, the smoke gave a weird smell of roses and decay mixed together. I didn’t care much of John dying. If there was less death in this world, wouldn’t it make it a better place? As I was watching TV, I saw on the news where this man was going to get hanged, but he wouldn’t die. He apparently stabbed a woman to death, until there was a hole in her for no apparent reason. I didn’t care much of it and went to sleep.
When I woke up, I was in a completely different place. I wasn’t in my bed. I was in a dark room. I soon found the lights and turned them on. I looked around and was blinded my yellow post-it notes. I read one of them and it said “3:50, death of man being hanged.” I looked around and found a mirror. I saw my self dressed just like John. I couldn’t believe it. I heard a knock on the door, and God came in with a beer. He offered me one and told me that I was death.
I am also about to die, and I thought I would write my auto-biography, to let the reader know that, its death and you aren’t going to escape it, especially not me.
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