In Which Death Visits Me Whilst I Breakfast

Got to love Walt

waltbox

I was sitting in my usual booth at the GHOP (Gentleman’s House of Pancakes). On the table before me was a plate full of untouched ones (pancakes). I was pushing them around with a fork. To the best of my knowledge, Dick Hercules was not around.

“May I join you?”

I looked up. It was not Mr.Hercules. Worse, it was this fellow…

Death

I didn’t quite know what to say.

“Is it time?” I said.

He sat down across from me in the booth and leaned his scythe against the table. It slid down and clattered on the floor.

“Shit,” he said.

He picked it up and positioned it awkwardly between his legs.

“Must be cumbersome,” I said.

“I hate it,” he said. He glanced around. People were cutting pancakes with the edge of their forks. Drinking orange juice. It was an exciting time.

Now, I say he glanced around, but…

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