THE Grim Reaper sneezed for the third time in a row.
"Bless you!", his trainee, who was standing next to him under the bright yellow umbrella, exclaimed happily and looked at his superior. "Three times in a row - that must mean good luck, Sir!".
"Very good luck indeed", aforementioned muttered and delicately sniffed his nose. Right in front of them was the entrance to the graveyard and just a few meters away from the dripping green bushes they were 'hiding' behind, a small but very emotional funeral took place.
"This allergy is robbing my last nerve! Why is it always the graveyards that are so dirty?", he wondered and tucked away his cotton tissue with a skilfully embroidered freesia. "I guess it is because of all the people turning to dust, Sir", the trainee answered seriously and pressed both of his hands together to pray.
At first, the Grim Reaper actually considered laughing out loud, but then recalled all the other similar scenarios in which the newest addition to the Ministry of Death had already given him a hard time with sticking to his opinions of things.
So he decided to sigh - internally, because a Reaper would never lose face in front of anyone - and started walking.
"Hey, Mister - er, Sir, I mean, you will get wet!" - "So will the cinerary urn if we don't speed up a bit".
"What's so important about it anyway? We already finished every step of the protocol. Body dead, no interferences or bargains, the soul was brought away by a colleague, now's the funeral of the body. Everything's done. Shouldn't we be somewhere in a café and chatter about our latest deaths?".
"We need it", the Grim Reaper said slowly, waiting for the currently nameless trainee to catch up, "Because inside that urn there isn't one ounce of human ash. It's sand. And we need to steal it before that sad gathering of a family finds out".
Ω
It had taken an hour for the people at the funeral to dissolve in all kinds of directions.
The closest to the young dead man - a girl called Annie - had the cinerary urn firmly pressed against her chest, as if even the last pieces of her dead brother might escape if she let go. Which, in fact, they already did.
While some people finally began to leave, always whispering some superficially kind words into her momentarily deaf ears, she continued to stand at the spot where the ceremony had been held.
"This one is a tough nut", the trainee realized and tilted his head towards the Grim Reaper, as if to ask how he would take care of the situation.
"Never mind the girl. She will probably wait a bit more and as soon as it gets dark, she will leave. And then it is your job, Mr. , pardon, what was your name again?", - "Mr. Mercury, Sir!".
"Mr. Mercury - wait, are you mocking him? I was present when the soul of the fantastic Mr. Mercury entered into the Eternal Halls and the remnants of your soul have nothing in common with his".
"It is a reminder", Mr. Mercury thoughtfully began, „that this time is a punishment. You see, I had a cat that was born on a warm September morning when Mercury was still visible upon the firmament. And I - " - the Grim Reaper dutifully waited for the terribly uninteresting tragedy to be unveiled - " I accidentally ran her over with my new car. As I got killed in a car accident myself a few weeks later, I made a deal with the Reaper who supervised my death. In order to show regret for the terrible murder of my cat - you see, she had these lovely black patches on her ebony white fur and despite what people tell you, you can really evolve a relationship with a cat and get her to interact with you and - well, I decided to punish myself and not transfer directly into the Eternal Halls. I really loved that cat".
YOU ARE READING
another one bites the dust
Fantasy"you dreamed of becoming the hero of the story - so how did you end up being its villain?" Our lovely Grim Reaper's got everything sorted: his cane, his files, his hat, his sarcasm. He might seem a bit old-school at first glance, but there lies a y...
