Popov.

Popov Ch8 Death Watch

Chapter 8 Death Watch

‘Inhumation or cremation, choose how you go after you’ve gone – your chance to have your own way one last time. Demise & son Plc, a family company, specialists in decedent logistics. A subsidiary of the Afterlife Corporation. Changing your experience from passing over to just passing through. Reincarnation bogofs are for a limited period only. Terms and conditions apply. Demise and son have the right to restrict the number of changes of mind per customer and are not liable for any damages caused. Any similarity to anyone already living is coincidental and subject to identity fraud security measures. Reincarnation offer can be withdrawn at any time without prior notice. Enquire about our bulk discount terms.’

There was a silence as an eternity creaked across the floorboards. Popov stood facing Death at his desk once more. Death sat looking down at the white card he held between his finger tips from which he had just read. In slow motion Death raised his head to glare at Popov.

‘Demise & son? And son? A family company?’

‘Well CEO I-’

‘Bogofs?’

‘Buy one get one free-’

‘I see…and decedent logistics? Do you know what happened to me today Popov as a result of this – this–’

‘Marketing campaign?’ Popov suggested. He stepped back as he saw anger brewing up in the depths of Death’s eyes. ‘What happened sir?’

‘A client refused to come with me. Refused! Me! Death, the ultimate in grim reaping! Never has a client refused before. He wanted to know what special offers I had on at the moment and what discount he could negotiate. A discount! He proceeded to ask my advice on an investment portfolio to make his reincarnation a viable proposition. Then he tried to negotiate the quantity of years he required to elapse before it was economic for him to return to collect his dividends. And this is all down to you Popov!’ Death jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over backward. He held the white card out to Popov in the tips of his fingers as though it was disease ridden. ‘This is the limit Popov! Never in the history of time have I had a client refuse to come with me. Then to be asked to send a representative of Demise and son along. That’s when I was shown this – and when were you going to consult me, son?’ The son was spat out through clenched teeth. ‘How many of these have you had printed and distributed?’ Popov stepped forward and took the card from Death’s outstretched hand.

‘Well Your Leniency I managed to do a deal with a company that was a bit desperate for work. Seems their last job was publishing a few commandments in tablets of stone, which were such a success with the end users that they reinvested in more up to date printing equipment only to find their client never gave them any repeat orders. So this job was a real bonus to them. Only six pillows made from angel wing feathers for three trillion billion dozen cards delivered to religious establishments, undertakers, care homes, hospitals and bathrooms worldwide.’

‘And where may I ask did you get that quantity of angel feathers?’

‘Oh well I just spoke to Mrs Harris.’

‘Mrs Harris. And is she one of the archangels?’

‘Oh no Scrutinizing One, she’s the lady that does for the seraphim.’

‘Does?’

‘Cleans, sir. Mrs Harris is the domestic attendant in the seraphim dormitory. Well it so happens that Mrs H and I lunch in the same little trattoria just off the Ponte Vecchio in Florence every Wednesday. She’s often told me how much mess those seraphim make what with the fighting, arguing and booze – well, let’s just say they’re no angels. They really make the feathers fly and she has to clean it all up. Poor woman, with her legs and all, no thought for others those seraphim, no thought at all. So anyway angel feathers no problem. If you like sir I could get you-’