Reaper

The anteaters.

I miss music. I miss a lot of things, but music is one of them. I wasn't a great singer, and I wasn't in any bands or anything, but I still enjoyed it and I can recognize good music.

This is it.

It's a little garage band, but there's potential there. They all sing, but the guitarist is the only one that should be. He's got a voice like an angel, and I say that having met some angels. I wonder what's going to happen to these poor guys...

I always like to get to a job early. I got here a bit earlier than most; it was close to my last job so I didn't even go... home... in between. It's nice seeing people alive and not grieving. I have to watch out for ghosts, of course, but it's not so bad and I can still watch people go about their lives. It makes me feel human, at least as human as I can feel without a heartbeat. Music helps with that, too. The human feeling, not the heartbeat. The dead don't get music; it's a living-people thing, something to do with art and music-playing devices and whatever. I don't know, all I know is that this is either going to be my favorite job, or my least favorite.

The guitarist is really putting his all into the song, smiling at the pianist. It sounds like a love song. That's so sweet! The pianist is blushing like crazy.

The hi-hat--I think that's what it's called, anyway--is rattling. The drummer looks annoyed.

It's an earthquake.

It's a bad one.

It's--

It's cracking the roof and they're not noticing, you idiots, run outside--

Shit! Shit! Dammit, they were just--they were just playing music! It was a go--it was a fucking love song! Shit...

Oh go--gosh, there's a kid upstairs.

Well, she's not upstairs anymore.

Shit...

"Shit! Paul! Paul, wake up! Are you okay?"

He's not okay.

"Shut up and help me!"

Oh. I thought--I thought it was him? Wait... Yeah, Paul isn't on my list. I'd congratulate you, but...

"What are you talking about? Look, just call an ambulance, okay?"

It won't work. I'm sorry. Your friend will be fine. I'm kind of an expert in this field.

"How do you--oh."

Yeah. Oh. You recognized the uniform?

"Well, that and the scythe--wait, uniform?"

Well, yeah. It's stupid, but at least it's not a maid outfit, right?

"Who are you?"

Oh, lots of things. I could give you a list but I can't pronounce half of the names on it. I... used to be called... Well, I'm a grim reaper.

"A grim reaper? As in, just one of many?"

Well, yeah. I'm busy enough as it is, there's no way just one person could be responsible for every soul.

"Look, aren't you supposed to use that threatening scythe on me or something?"

Oh, you think it's threatening? Damn, I forgot to ask the last few people... I've been taking a survey. I usually don't use the scythe. It's kind of disrespectful. I mean, it isn't fun dying then seeing a blade come toward you and waking up in some kind of sky off--get down!

"What?"

Shh.

"No, what were you--"

Shut up!