tirsdag den 7. juni 2011

A Scrambled Pile of Mutterings and Brainwaves

    With a motion like a cobra striking, he whipped his guns from their holsters. They were lightning bolts, and the thunder that followed left death in its wake.


    Robert Mint was in his best chair, reading the paper and enjoying not being outside in the rain, when Death walked through the opposite wall. Robert lowered his paper. 
    'Absolutely horrid weather,' Death said and shook his heavy, black robes. Spectral droplets of water passed through Robert and landed on his carpet where they'd soon evaporate into ectoplasmic smoke. 'Sorry to come barging in like this,' he said, 'But it's freezing outside.' 
    'Tea?' Robert Mint inquired.
    Death made an approving "ooh" sound. 'Yes, please,' he said. Robert Mint shuffled into his little kitchen. The sound of softly boiling water soon filled the room. 
    'Mind if I prop my scythe up against the wall?' Death asked.
    'No no, feel free.' Robert Mint called from the kitchen.
    Death did so and made himself comfortable at the dining table. 'Ah, lovely,' he said when Robert handed him the small, steaming cup of tea. He took a sip and sighed. 'Lovely.'
    Robert Mint eyed death for a long while. 'So you're Death,' he said.
    Death nodded. 'That's right. Well, not Death Death.'
    'Death Death?'
    'I mean, I am a Death. Death Death doesn't really leave the office much anymore. He leaves most of the work to us.'
    'Oh,' Robert Mint said. They sipped tea for a few silent minutes.
    'This tea is excellent,' Death said.
    'Oh, thank you.'
    'Earl Grey?'
    'Lipton, actually. Biscuit?' He offered Death a small plate of biscuits. 
    'Thanks,' he said and took one. They sat around Robert Mint's dining table, drinking tea and eating biscuits for a few minutes. Finally, Death drained his cup and got to his feet, brushing biscuits crumbs off of his robes. 
    'We had better get going,' he said. 
    'Is it going to hurt?' Robert Mint asked.
    'No, not especially. A bit disconcerting is all. Bit of vertigo.'
    'Oh. Good.'
    'You should probably close your eyes.'
    Robert Mint did so. Death took Robert's hand in his, and together they walked into the rainy night.

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