“God Damnit!” Death groaned.
“Hey, that’s a buck,” David looked over him.
“What?” Death responded, annoyed.
“That’s a buck in the jar when we get back. You said, well, you know what you said.”
“Ah for fuck’s sake. I don’t need this right now.”
“Rules are rules,” David replied with a shrug.
“The rules seem to be out the fucking window lately, David.” Death grunted as he tossed another body onto the cart.
“What the hell kind of name is David anyway? Whatever happened to cool names like the Grim Reaper, The Angel of Death or Cerberus or something.”
David threw a body onto the cart himself, “the first two are just different nicknames for you and the third one is a mythological three-headed dog.”
Death sighed, “yeah well, the name was fucking cool. Nobody ever gets cool names anymore. Where’d you come from again?”
“I used to work at Facebook.”
“Oh, right,” Death paused for a moment, “So, is Zuck really that short?”
David simply nodded as he dragged another body over to the cart.
“So, what’s with all the bitching, Death? You seem a bit peeved.”
Death let out a long sigh and looked out into the distance, “yeah I am kind of. I’m getting old. I’ve been at this for centuries and it’s the same damned thing over and over again. Like okay, you worked at Facebook right? Okay well it was a lot different when you finally bit the bucket than when you started right? Where the hell are the technological advances in my line of work? I mean fuck, I’m still using a god damn cart.”
“Bit the bucket?” David stopped at the side of the cart and looked over at Death.
“What?” Death turned half way towards David.
“You said bit the bucket.”
“Dude, fuck off with the nitpicking. Jesus, where do they find you people.”
“That’s another buck.”
It’s been a bad year for Death. His workload has been slowly increasing over the past few decades and it’s shown no signs of getting easier. His boss is a tool as well. One of those guys who sweet talks you to your face and then screws you over behind the scenes.
Deaths put in requests for improved equipment like a flatbed or a garbage truck or something where he could carry more bodies at once but his requests are repeatedly denied. It’s always the same answer too.
“Death, come on,” the Devil would say, “we both know what you mean to this operation. Everybody loves you and we all want you to do the best you can do, but really we can’t help you with these requests. Honestly, what are people going to think if you pull up in a garbage truck with that beeping sound every time you need to back up or something? And every time you need to dump a bin full of bodies that slow lifting arm and the way it shakes back and forth? We would be a laughingstock. Nobody would take us seriously.”
Death would just roll his eyes every time he heard this spiel and recant it in a mocking tone later in the day.
“Nobody would take us seriously. Really? Nobody would take Death and Hell seriously? What other option is there? The management in this damn place is just gone to shit, I swear. If I had any other options I’d transfer. I don’t even care, I’d go to Hell. Any circle. Seventh, Fifth, First. Doesn’t even matter.”
“Second would be my choice,” David offered.
Death chuckled, “yeah. Everybody loves the second. There is a long list of people trying to get into the second.”
“I heard its got a great view too,” David reached down to grab a bottle of water hanging from his belt.
“Oh yeah. I was there once for an orientation meeting. It was the only time they ever had it in the second circle. It’s got the most amazing views of the lake of fire. Instagram worthy. Everyone’s always ruining it with their duck lips and pouting faces though. Just take the damn picture and stop posing,” Death sighed and trudged back to the cart.
“Alright, we should get back and unload. There’s a cult in Minnesota that thinks their savior will help them cheat death. All they have to do is prove their belief by drinking some kind of poison,” David said as he threw a rope over the heap of bodies resting precariously on the cart.
Death chuckled again, “idiots. I just hope the assholes stayed on land. You have no fucking idea how difficult it is to pull dead bodies out of water. We don’t have anything like a speedboat or jet ski. No. We’ve got a fucking rowboat, or as I like to call it a glorified canoe. Basically have to drag each body one by one. You should have seen what a clusterfuck the Titanic was. People frozen to death hanging onto floating doors. Assholes sitting one or two people in a boat. What a fucking shit show.”
Death grabbed the pulley on the cart and grunted as he began to pull. David pushed from the other end and the cart started to slowly inch down the road.
“If you’re gonna stick around how about we call you Destructor or something? We can be D&D.”
“Sure I mean, maybe not Destructor but we can work on it.”
As they got a short while down the road the cart hit a pothole and disrupted the balance. The bodies piled high leaned to one side and Death yelled out, “whoa whoa whoa! No!”
The cart stayed upright but half of the bodies fell off to one side and rolled into the ditch.
“FUCK! Fuck! Fucking hell!” Death screamed into the air.
“Motherfuckers won’t even get us a god damn cart with suspension or proper straps or nothing! God damnit!”
Death paused for half a second then wheeled around to point at David, “and don’t you fucking dare say anything about a buck!”
David threw his hands up and shook his head.
Death sighed and shook his head as well, “ugh. Call it in. We’re gonna be a while. I don’t even give a shit anymore. We need some help or this shit just isn’t going to get done. I’m taking a break.”
David called in that they were going to be delayed. Death wandered off into the trees mumbling to himself. The day was just like every other he’s ever had since he took on the Death moniker, but different as well just as the next would be. Forever retrieving the dead it was just like the mail, it would never stop.