Man wearing a frock, 1,80m in height, carrying a scythe drops by
There’s a knock on the door. I open it and walk back in the room, slumping into my couch without taking a single look at the visitor. The door closes, the visitor slowly draws nearer.
“Say, don’t you look at your visitors before inviting them in?”, he asked. “Sometimes, yes.But I just don’t feel like it at the moment, you know?”, I idly replied. “But Sir, I might be a mass murderer, wishing to bring you death!”, the visitor said, “in a certain sense, both of these assumptions are true, in fact!”.
I look up, not obviously impressed, and take in the person that is standing there. Interesting looks, you have to hand that to the guy. A little too goth, i’d say though. He is wearing a black frock (looks like velvet), completed by a black hood on his head, a scythe (isn’t that carrying an unregistered weapon? Well, at least it’s not a concealed weapon..), sandals (kind of yuppie, I think, must be one of the green goths), also quite a slim guy, maybe he is bulimic, I think (“eat your damn vegetables” is my second thought). Under the hood, his face is enclosed in darkness, two red dots staring out of it, beaming at me. As I am kind of depressed at the moment, I don’t find that very spooky. There’s a lot of goofy people, you know. “Nice outfit,” I say, sounding a little bored, “but isn’t that a little cliché goth?”. That obviously stuns him.
“Hey there, a little more respect, man! I’m the personification of death!”, he growls. “Aren’t we all, dude, aren’t we all…”, I answer – real clever kind of answer, I think. “Well, dead. Yeah. Someday you will all be dead, that’s right, but not death! You’re kicking the bucket pretty soon, I daresay, that’s why I am here!”, he replies in a deep voice that might have the intention of sounding scary but doesn’t really get to me.
“Me?”, I ask him, a little confused now, “well, I hadn`t really planned for that today, you know.. but if it has to be, well, I don’t want to stand in the way. We all got to do our job, right?”. After this utterance of mine, my visitor looks as if I smacked him right out of his sandals (well, I assume he does so, he is wearing a hood that no look can penetrate, you know..). Ha, I shocked death himself!
“Wait, wait.. you can’t just say ‚okay, take my life if you need to‘! You have to scream and beg and do stuff like that, all humans do that when you approach them and say ’sorry, you end here‘!”, he says in a commanding voice. I shake my head in a slightly bored kind of way and tell him that winter is this depressing time of the year, where I tend to freeze emotionally, so to say. He seems to be profoundly confused now.
“Now listen… I mean.. you can’t just be suicidal because it’s winter. That’s not fair, you know. I took this job because I enjoy it, because it’s interesting to me! Everyone always says you need to enjoy what you do for a living (haha), and I got to say: I like the begging part way better than this! I just can’t take the life of some idiot that isn’t interested in this fact at all. So please, pull yourself up, beg a little, would you?”
“Nah, not today,” I reply, “i just don’t have the energy. You know, I am single. I spend my days hating the weather when I wake up, staring at the leaden sky and begging for a little sunshine, dragging myself to work, doing that work with no enjoyment whatsoever, return home, eat, drink, maybe talk to someone, then I go to sleep and repeat that the next day. You just can’t expect me to beg you for just remaining in that state, that would be madness, really.”. My arguments seem to make him think, he scratches his chin.
“Well, I understand.. wouldn’t really beg for that either. You know what? It’s no fun trying to take your life. You depress me, really. I will just let you live a little. And then, one day in summer, when you’re freshly in love and you enjoy your days again… ha! I will return then and you will wish you had just begged me this winter. Don’t take it personally, everybody needs to enjoy his job, you know.”
After he finishes saying that, he vanishes.