Death - A (Long) Thread

So, death is stalking me. Which sucks.

I’m not exactly sure how I got on the Reaper’s "naughty" list, but he appears to have it in for me. When I woke up Friday, I cursed my sinuses for yet another night of little sleep brought on by weather changes.

1/

I may have said something to the effect of, “I can't take this anymore! KILL ME NOW!!”

So I guess it could be argued that I brought this all on myself.

On the way to work, I engaged in my normal routine of slow driving and loud cursing.

2/

One can look upon it as a gentle ballet set to an orchestra that is punctuated by the baton of my middle finger.

Quite lovely.

On yesterday’s drive, an idiot that changed lanes for no conceivable reason cut me off.

3/

The traffic was nearly stopped and there was nowhere to go. Yet, this idiot feels the need to jut his shiny all-black Jeep in front of me right now. Now, one cannot have the woodwind section overpowering the percussionists.

4/

So, I dutifully raised my baton whilst simultaneously bringing up my horn section.

In time, I managed to work my way alongside of the offender in order to give my customary “Thanks for being an Idiot” glare. I was rebuked, however, by his deeply tinted windows.

5/

I now suspect that within this vehicle, rode Death. I thought he’d be more of a Mercedes guy. So be proud, people - Death buys American! Or is it Italian? I digress.

As the day progressed, I found that little circumstances were going against me:

6/

People around me seemed stupider than normal.

Elevators refused to stop for me.

I lost five pounds.

Truly, I thought nothing of it. It seemed to be just another day. Until the drive home.

It had rained for most of the day and I had gotten a late start on my drive home.

7/

I was looking forward to avoiding most of the traffic. This was a foolish thought due to the rain. It seems the rain here mixes with a combination of pollen and catfish that permeates the air and creates a toxic concoction that renders drivers absolutely brainless.

8/

So, again, it was slow going.

After taking some back roads and winding through a neighborhood or two, I found myself on a free and clear road. Very few cars around. I was one mile from home.

As I am about to round a mild curve in the road ahead...

9/

I notice that the car a couple of hundred feet in front of me is starting to veer slightly to the right on the road. I immediately see why. There is an eighty-gazillion ton garbage truck coming from the other direction and it is inching a tad into our lane.

Oh, wait...

10/

Not inching now.

As the car in front of me lurches even further to the right and around the front of the truck, I notice with some mild angst that the truck is, in fact, completely out of control, brakes locked, skidding at a forty-five degree angle in my lane, toward me.

11/

I am somewhat vexed.

I shoot a look into my rearview mirror to see if anyone behind me is about to plow through my back seat. In the distance, I catch a glimpse of some kind of black SUV.

Looking straight ahead now, I stomp the brakes and begin to swerve to my right...

12/

Making a quick calculation as to what point I will actually drive my car over the edge of the embankment and allow the Mack to lay gingerly upon me.

The Mack is still in full-brake-slide. I am in Anti-Lock butt-clench.

His headlights are creeping a few feet from my hood.

13/

I look up at the driver. He has the odd look of placid annoyance, somewhat secure in the fact that he will be on the “win” side of the impending fender-bender. If I could peel my hands off of the steering wheel, I would get out my finger baton.

14/

I jerk the wheel a little more to the right. We are both sliding now.

And then, we stop.

Two feet from each other, we sit there.

I don’t know what to do, exactly. My feet and hands are completely ignoring advice.

Get. Up. Trinity.

15/

I turn the wheel a little more to the right and accelerate around the behemoth. The two cars that were ahead of me that had narrowly avoided the Mack earlier are still pulled over to the side of the road, no doubt calling loved ones.

16/

I feel like pulling over next to them, yanking them from their cars and shaking them:

“WE HAVE CHEATED DEATH TODAY, FELLOW MOTORIST!! REJOICE AND DRINK DEEP THE NECTAR OF LIFE!!”

17/

Part of me feels like hopping out of my car and raising my hands up in a Rocky pose while screaming:

“That’s right Death!! WHO’S YO’ DAAAAAADDDY!?!?!”

Instead, however, I merely adjusted my underwear.

I look in my rearview again. The black SUV is nowhere in sight.

18/

I was a bit filled with adrenaline for the rest of the evening. After the thrill of defeating Old Man Death had settled, however, I crashed harder than a heroin addict at a Mormon convention. Sleep was a welcome ally now.

But...

19/

At around 2:00 in the morning, the phone rings. I am instantly awake. 2:00 AM phone calls always mean that Death is calling.

And so it was.

As I breathe deeply, preparing for the worst of news, I pick up the receiver.

20/

I hear the shrill screams of a thousand voices of Death. They screech at me with long, painful shrieks of warning and terror. My eyes grow wide.

I place the receiver back upon its cradle.

21/

Now, it is possible that the phone call was not, in fact, the shrill screams of a thousand voices of Death. It may have been the tone from a fax machine. They are surprisingly similar in both frequency and pitch.

22/

And even if it was a fax tone, I’m pretty sure that it was a fax from Death. Because you just know that Death doesn’t contact you by email or the US Postal Service. Fax is definitely the preferred method of communication of Black Wraiths.

23/

As I sat in bed wondering what the fax from Death would have said, I imagined that he would be very to-the-point.

Dear [REDACTED] (or current resident):
I'm totally gonna kill you.
Love,
Death
P.S. Seriously

I figure I’ve got like 2 or 3 days left, tops.

Which sucks.

/END