Monday October 31 had been a very long day. The doctor was locking up, but as he turned to switch off the lights he detected a Ghoulish presence in the room. No, not me, another ghastly figure. One wearing nothing more than a torn and tattered cloak.

I myself own a $9.99 windbreaker from Walmart.

“Can I help you?” the doctor asked. “No, I’m beyond help.” replied a depressed voice from the dark.

“Surely it’s not that bad.” replied the doctor to the voice. Gradually, the entity came into view. He set his scythe in the corner and began to pace (well… float actually) back and forth across the room. His head remained bowed as his bony fingers twitched. A deeply troubled soul.

“Would you have a seat or perhaps you’d like to lay on the sofa?” The psychiatrist asked.

“Lying on the sofa will do, thank you.” the Reaper replied “You see, in my line of work it’s usually the other away around.”

“Oh I see.” said the doctor knowingly.

“Do you really?” asked the Grim Reaper.”You have no idea what a joy it is to hear you say that doctor. It’s a terrible cross I bear. I run an unlicensed escort service, where all I do is collect souls day and night.”

“I can’t imagine.” said the doctor.

“Perhaps that’s because you have a license doctor. Hee, hee, hee” quipped Death. Then Death continued…

“Another thing doctor, I have no say in the matter either, I just go where he tells me when HE tells me. Ever try waking the dead doctor?”

The doctor shook his head no.

“Well just try waking up a teenager for school sometime. Same difference.”

“What about the working conditions, are they bad?” asked the doctor.



“The worst.” replied the wraith “I have to work in all kinds of weather, and with only this ridiculous robe for protection. Because, and I’m quoting—it’s expected of me!”

“I roam cold damp cemetery’s… usually in the dark. It’s amazing I haven’t caught my death of cold already, and me with no healthcare!  The post office has nothing on me let me tell ya doctor.”

“How DO you do it?” the good doctor asked.

“Well you see, I fly… all the time. Fly all over the world. 24/7/365 days a year… no days off! Every time I step into an airport I attract the attention of the TSA. Being on time for a cadaver collection has become nearly impossible for me. So… I’ve put the TSA on borrowed time. And further more… ”

“Speaking of borrowed time Mr. Death, we’re on it right now. I’m afraid I’ll have to schedule you for another day. I’ll have my secretary set you up with another appointment. Shall we say… next Halloween?”


61 comments on “BOO… HOO?

    • Oh don’t encourage him, Ally. One look at his attire and his penchant for carrying a scythe wherever he goes (even in a crowded airport!) tells you all you need to know about him. He’s obviously a closet standup comedian looking for an audience. He was probably hoping the TSA would do a strip search of him. Yep, anything for a laugh with that guy. 😀

  1. Paul, always down for a good Grim Reaper tale. Saw a cartoon where the Grim Reaper is calling on a house Halloween Night but states “we’re good” with the was-to-be-deceased as she is passing out full-size Snickers bars to trick-or-treaters (as he was mistaken for). Maybe a cautionary tale for all readers next Halloween…no more mini candy bars…just in case one of those visitors in costume isn’t just dressing up for one night…

    • Yeah, you wouldn’t wanna short change him that’s for sure. There’s no telling what the big lug might do if he caught you sneaking a piece of fruit into his trick-or-treat bag. Especially if he had his eye on that full size Hershey Milk Chocolate Candy Bar sitting at the top of your candy bowl. Why I shudder to think what might happen to you. The worst possibly being: him giving you his after school performance of Macbeth, while you’re helplessly forced to watch it from the comfort of your own front door hallway. Talk about terror! All I can say is… just be sure to applaud afterwards Bruce, because I think he fancies himself as something of a thespian—the ham! 😀

  2. You’re right, Paul. Poor old Death never gets a day off. In fact, when I checked Google, I discovered two people die per second, which means that Death has to be in two places at once all the time! No wonder he feels his job will be the death of him. 😦

    • Poor overworked soul. The next thing you know he’s likely to be told by his boss (you know, the big guy, the one who eats all that angel food cake) that he might have to be cloned. With scary clones being all over the news lately, I think that’s the last thing he needs to hear. I mean after all, isn’t he scary enough without having to dress up like a clone, too!

    • Oh sure, obviously you heard that I was one of the finalist for the post of Health and Human Resource Secretary (for the Trump Cabinet), and you just had to go ask me the one question out of 9,178 trick questions they asked, that I couldn’t answer correctly! Two hours of cramming for the exam, and that question proved to be the Death of me. Who would have thought it! 😀

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