Popov.

Popov Ch 6 Deadly Combination

Chapter 6 Deadly combination

‘Yet again I find I have to call you into my office. This can’t go on Popov. I have given you enough chances. There is not one collection that you have made so far that conforms to the rule book.’

‘Perhaps it’s the book that needs changing demanding one. It’s just I feel my creativity is being suppressed. There’s no job satisfaction.’ Popov replied. He stood in front of the desk fiddling with the quill in an inkwell, spinning the quill round and round on its point, making a little scratching noise as it did so. 

 ‘Job satisfaction?’ Death repeated as though he was not sure his hearing was correct.

‘There’s the equipment we use for one. This scythe, no one uses these anymore. Earth’s in the twenty first century now. Why can’t we get rid of the whole eighteenth century image and modernise?

How about a combine harvester for example? Think of the benefits great leader. Mass collections, war zones would be a snip, every faith collected together. We could plan routes and timetables. No more popping up according to client whim. Here, there, then Australia. The current system is so inefficient captain, haven’t you thought so before now?’

Popov had placed both hands on the desk, either side of the quill, and was leaning in toward Death, who sat back in his chair.

 ‘I have never questioned –‘

 ‘Then it’s time to question, squire, high time.’ Popov pushed himself backwards away from the desk and wandered around the room gesticulating with one arm as he spoke.

‘We could allocate windows of opportunity for the deceasing to select their preference. You know am, pm. Have the client wait in until we turn up and if the combine’s full when we get there they’ll just have to select anther day to shuffle off the earthly plain.

‘No. No mass collection schedules and no combine Popov.’ Death’s voice was hard and firm.      

 ‘What about a ride on mower then?’

‘No.’

 ‘A chainsaw?’

Death sighed, ‘No.’

‘An electric carving knife then?’

‘No Popov. We have an image to maintain. Humans like routine in times of stress. They know where they are when they see the scythe.’ Death opened the ledger in front of him.

‘Well can we change the uniform then? I mean how about a nice leather jacket and jeans for example?’ Popov urged. Death looked up from the ledger.

‘Can you see me in jeans?’

‘You’d wow them admiral, the girls would be dying to meet you if you were dressed like that. You collected James Dean, didn’t that tell you something?

Do you get out much? I mean parties and the like? I know a couple of cute lower ranking angels we could show a good time. Liven the place up a little. We could even throw an office party.’

‘Enough Popov. ENOUGH. You prattle on and on but hear nothing. Do you ever listen? No changing the uniform or the equipment. No jeans and definitely no parties.

It’s time to go. Here’s your next and probably last collection I shall be writing to the Lord as soon as you are gone to report on your attitude and ineptitude.’

 ‘Oh but capitano I try. Look, give me a last chance. Let me get this one, come with me, watch and then if I still mess up, well, report me. But give me a chance.’ Popov begged with concern. Death gave a long heavy sigh and stood up to come around from behind his desk.