The old man didn’t hear the ghostly hearse arrive at the front of his house.
He was in the bathroom at the time, taking more of his useless medication. The gentle tap at the front door became louder. He went to the door and opened it. The great hooded figure that stood there raised the scythe and ran a bony finger along the length of the blade.
In a low menacing voice it said, “Greetings, mortal.”
“You’re late!” shouted the old man.
The figure was rattled. “Greetings…” it began again, only to be rudely interrupted.
“Sod the greetings. You’re late!”
The reaper looked around, as if he were seeking help of some kind.
“I’ve been waiting weeks for you to turn up. Well overdue, you are. It’s an absolute disgrace! Ever since that fool of a doctor prescribed what he called the strongest painkillers available on the market.” He snorted. “Useless, they are. Just like all the others I’ve been given. Well, don’t just stand there, do something!”
The angel of death hesitated.
“You see? You’re just standing there, right? Not sure what you’re doing, right? Well, that’s the problem isn’t it? I mean, that’s why it’s taken you so bleeding long to get here.” He pointed at his chest. “I’m in a lot of pain here.” He smirked. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, you wouldn’t even know what pain was, would you?”
The cloaked figure looked as though he was about to answer.
“No, of course not! What do you care, eh?” He waved his arms around. “You would have no idea what it’s like to have your body racked with pain morning, noon and night.” He looked down at his feet. “Riddled with arthritis, I am. Riddled, I tell you.” He peered into the skull’s hollow eye holes. “I mean, all this pain ends when my life ends, right?”
The figure shrugged.
“I hope so, anyway. Not that it’s been much of a life, I can tell you that. Pretty bloody miserable, most of it.” He held his arms out wide. “Well? Now that you’ve finally got here, let’s get on with it, shall we? What do you want me to do?”
The figure, not wanting to risk being cut short again, made a silent sweep with its arm and pointed at the waiting hearse. The old man pushed passed, complaining more about his medical condition without taking a breath, all the way down the garden path.
With all of the excessive babbling, the reaper suddenly realised that he’d completely forgotten something.
He swung the scythe.
Moments later, everything went quiet.