Death and Marky

Death enters the room.

He looks much like you would expect him to, with him still wearing that large black sheet of his, wrapped dramatically around his body and head to obscure his face. He still carries that long, gnarled scythe. It hangs dramatically behind him from a strap across his shoulders.

Inside the room, behind the lone desk, sits a large woman with a head full of red curls cascading down her shoulders. She looks up, spots death and attempts to keep a straight face at his ridiculous get up.

"Ahem, ah," the official says, "what, uh, brings Death to my door?" She starts to giggle, but manages to choke it down before escapes. Her face is red as she makes a show of straightening papers and adjusting the pen holder.

Death raises an eyebrow at her.

"I would like to request a different assignment," he says in a completely serious manner as he crosses the room to take a seat across from the woman. He sets his scythe down in the chair next to him and reaches a bony hand out to adjust his hood. On the top of the pearly white desk across from him, sits a name tag that reads : "Gertrude". Death leans forward and looks the large woman in the eye, making sure she can see his skull inside the hood and the flames flickering within his empty eye sockets. "So...," He looks down at the name tag. "...Gertrude... can you provide me with the proper paperwork to request re-assignment, please?"

The amused smirk slips from her face as she realizes that Death is not kidding. Gertrude gulps and says, "Uh, yes, but... you know you can't just retire. You are one of the most powerful angels in the kingdom. Your job is one of the most important ones there is!"

"I'm not sure it is. I mean, what harm would it be to let the humans have immortality? Why must it fall on me to take lives day in and day out. The orders come down from the big guy upstairs, but never with an explanation." Death leans back in his chair and pulls a bony leg over his knee. "It was fun at first. I enjoyed watching them die. They were amusing. I mean, I got to see all the creative ways mankind attempted to thwart my coming. It's always futile, of course, but they've never learned." Death stands up and walks to the window. He looks out at the blank whiteness of Purgatory. Without turning he says, "They are miserable too. The can be kind and loving, but in the end, they all have a big ball of sadness in them. They want a car, they get a car, they want another. They want a girl or guy, they get them, they want someone else. They develop ways to live longer than ever and they still aren't happy. They want to live forever."

"I'm not sure you have all that much to do with their inability to be happy," Gertrude says. "Humans are generally a miserable bunch," she adds darkly. "I personally think too much blame is put on Lucifer around here." Gertrude leans in conspiratorially and says, "I was here when he got kicked out. You know, the whole 'Eve' scandal. I still say he wasn't actually sleeping with her and even if he was, I think the Big Man was out of line for blaming Lucifer for a human eating from the tree of knowledge. The way I see it is, why put the thing there in the first place if you don't want them to eat it?" Death didn't respond. He wasn't here to debate the Lucifer conundrum. Sensing Death's disinterest in the subject, she says, "Well, my point is that you aren't the problem. Humans are,"
"I don't see it that way," Death says calmly. "I've seen them do some horrible things, but I've seen them do some phenomenal things. I have witnessed great acts of kindness that have made me wish I had a heart to to appreciate it wholly."

"Oh, sure," she agrees, "there are some good ones, but there are ones that are far worse than even you know."

"Like who? That Hitler guy? Jack the Ripper?" Death asks, feeling agitated. "Sure there are some horrible humans, but hey shouldn't cause the entire species to suffer. It doesn't make any sense. The Big Man used to preach about love and kindness and forgiveness. He used to take an interest in his creations welfare, but now all he does is hang out in his pool trying whatever new drug that junkie kid ofhis has cooked up. He's completely washed up. He hasn't performed a miracle in... like, five thousand years," Death says, throwing his skeletal hands up in frustration.