Playing With Death

Death watched impassively from the window seat as an old man fumbled his way into the room. Death watched quietly as an old man collapsed onto his bed. Death watched impatiently as an old man began to die.

Death wished that old fart would hurry up.

He tapped his boney fingers on the wooden window sill and watched as the old man twisted and turned. Death checked his watch. This old man's heart attack had been occurring for two minutes now. Death would have arched an eyebrow at the man's resilience if he'd had one to arch. Instead, he let out an impatient sigh.

Amidst all his agony, the old man heard this. “Who's there?” he managed to croak, “Help me. I-I can't move. It hurts so much.” The old man tried to turn his head to look behind him. Seeing he'd been caught, Death gave the old man a hearty wave, the sleeve of his cloak falling down to his elbow, revealing nothing but aged bone.

“Cheers,” Death said, flashing the man the peace sign. “Way to go on the staying alive thing. How long will it last, do you think?”

The old man choked back a gasp, and would have screamed, had he the lung capacity. At this point, Death placed his hands on his cheekbones and gave a high pitched wail.

“What in the world is that?!” he mimicked. “It's going to eat me, Mommy!”

The old man began to flail on his bed, trying to get up. Death approached bed and circled it so he stood in front of the man, who slowly looked up, trying to make out what was hidden in the shadow of the cloak. Death slowly bent down until he was eye level with the man before whipping back his hood. The old man cringed, closing his eyes. Upon feeling no slash of a scythe, no attack from a thousand snakes, he reopened his eyes to come face to face with a large, red clown nose.

The old man blinked, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He stopped. He had been holding his breath. He had been able to hold his breath. The pain was retreating, leaving in its wake a numbing feeling. He stared at Death uncertainly. The clown nose vanished, and Death replaced his hood, standing up straight.

“I guess you're safe for now,” he said off-handedly, sweeping back across the room to the window. “Just remember the clown nose, you old fart. You didn't even laugh.” he continued, feigning hurt. “What, don't you like playing with Death?”

Without waiting for an answer, Death disappeared, leaving his last words to echo throughout the room, making the old man quiver.