"SO, basically, you're saying he's useless", Remorse nonchalantly summarised his friend's talk and dipped a spoon into his giant jar of blue ice cream.
"I'm not saying he's useless. I'm just saying that he can't do anything except for working hypnotic spells and using tote bags in every way possible", the Grim Reaper replied and sunk deeper into Remorse's blue satin chair.
"That's the definition of useless, Grimmie", Remorse answered and slightly smiled, „Isn't it funny, we're all just here to constantly fail expectations". Said Reaper simply let a deep sigh replace his answer, but to Remorse, it still said enough. "Mhm", Remorse murmured, his mind wandering off to important things, "I can't decide. Is it popcorn and Aristocats or salted crisps and trash TV tonight?".
The Grim Reaper kicked him.
"Hey! I'm in a serious dilemma, my dear friend!", he exclaimed in frustration and kicked him back.
"You don't sound serious at all. You sound like a spoiled boy whose only problem is having way too many choices" - "And if that isn't a tragedy, I don't know what is!", Remorse retorted and threw away his spoon to highlight his misery.
Behind them, a small figure sneaked through the half-opened wooden door into the room.
"Sir, please excuse my interruption, but trainee Mercury has arrived half an hour ago. He is waiting in the Great Hall, Sir", the unimpressive figure informed his two superiors.
"What department are you from, exactly?", Remorse rudely interrogated his counterpart who seemingly cut the sorry figure. "Freesia on the collar means none of your business", the Grim Reaper suddenly interfered. "Ignore this old airhead, the only company he usually has is his jar of ice cream". As a reaction fuelled by pure spite, Remorse started eating the ice cream without a spoon, fixing his gaze on the completely done Grim Reaper.
"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir", the sorry figure stuttered and slightly blushed.
"Tell trainee Mercury to stay right where he is. I will follow soon with his Paper of Operational Tasks" - "Roger that! I will take my leave, then", the younger Reaper replied and lightly bowed his head.
"Did he just?", Remorse blurted out as soon as the door was closed and tugged his still unfinished jar into the mysteriously spaceful pocket of his mint green coat. "He used to be a pilot. At least his former life had a positive effect on his appearance. I cannot say the same about you", the man without a cane replied in a manner that clearly suggested he was done with his old friend.
"Aren't you curious? About the effects your former life had on you?".
The man without a cane stood up, smoothened the nonexistent wrinkles in his perfectly-ironed black satin blouse and stretched out his left hand. The marble cane appeared out of nowhere and fit itself into his opened palm.
"I'm here for business", was all he answered before leaving the room in an indescribably dramatic gloomy manner.
"You have no idea what is waiting for you", his old companion muttered to himself, and his priorly permanent bemused smile was replaced by deep concern.
Ω
The sheet of paper in his right hand weighed a lot more than what a simple sheet of paper was supposed to weigh.
"Mr. Mercury", the man with the cane greeted the person that - despite his constant denial - had become the only trainee in years to leave a sizable impression on him. A Queen-mocker, out of all people.
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...
