“Let me get this straight,” the skeleton said, rubbing his chipped fingers over his forehead, “you jumped into an extremely thorny bush, got bitten by a venomous spider, then died.”

The man nodded, sitting at the other side of the desk. “That’s abou’ righ’.”

The skeleton sighed, sounding like more than a whistle than any exhale. “Were you at least drunk? Or high? Or in any state that would cause you to act like an idiot?”

“Don’t think so, mate,” the man replied, his accent more than evident of his origins.

“You’re an idiot,” the skeleton said, his deadpan voice enough to make up for his lack of expression. “Regardless, step on through,” he jerked a thumb behind him, pointing at a wooden door, “the angel court will decide your placement.”

“Bloody hell,” the man said, standing. “This is all a bit weird, innit?”

“Get going.” Drawing a circle on the desk with a the tip of his skeletal finger, a dark void appeared and he dropped the man’s file into it. With a brush of his hand over the hole, it vanished cleanly.

“Cheers mate!” the man grinned, walking past and stepping through the door.

“Damn crazy Australians…” The skeleton uttered another whistle sigh, covering his skull with hs hands.

It wasn’t easy being Death.

“Next!” he shouted, staring at the door ahead of him.

In stepped in a tall, thin woman with long brown hair that passed over her shoulders. Taking a cautious foot forward, her eyes were wide as she gazed at her surroundings.

“Welcome to my office,” Death waved at his humble abode. Desk. Two doors. And a whole vista of white nothingness.

“Office?” The woman stared at Death, grimacing. “Are you really…?”

“Yes, I’m Death,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Sit down and we’ll get this over with. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

She blinked, moving to the chair and sitting down in an awkward, stilted motion. “Okay… this isn’t what close to what I imagined death would be like. Where your’s creepy hood? Your scythe?

Death looked down at his baby blue buttoned shirt. “Dark, depressing hoods really don’t fit an office lifestyle.” He picked up a pen and pressed down on its end, causing the inky tip to pop out. “This is my scythe now.” Sliding over a blank document, he put pen to paper. “Your name?”

“Uh, Sarah Kellington,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Aren’t you supposed to be out in the world, seeing to the dead yourself?”

“I used to,” Death said, scribbling down Sarah’s name. His pen strokes became harder, denting the paper. “Those were the days…”

“What happened?” Sarah offered a small smile as Death raised his head. “If I can ask, that is.”

“You lot happened. You got too good,” he answered.

“At what?”

“Breeding like darn rabbits, that’s what,” Death grumbled, sitting back in his chair. “And more people mean more deaths. You wanna know how many people die each Earth day? I gotta sort through all that stuff, see how people died, ask them questions about their life, then I pass on the paperwork to the Angel court.”

“I guess they sort out if you go to Heaven or Hell…?” Sarah asked.

Death snorted. In reality it was a mere wisp of air passing through his nose hole. “That’s the simpleton’s way to put it. They sort out where you end up in the afterlife, based on what person you were during life.”

Sarah tilted her head, curious. “That doesn’t explain how you ended up behind a desk.”

“They’re my bosses. Too many people dying, they wanted a more streamlined system, instead of me running around just picking people up. Anyway,” he strained, tapping the page with the pen. “Can we proceed?”

Sarah offered a small smile, then nodded. “Of course.”

“Good.” Death leaned forward, fingers tapping together. “So, please give me a brief cause of your death please.”

“Oh, that’s simple!” Sarah said, dimples on her cheeks. “I sold my soul to Satan.”

Death’s jaw dropped, then clamped shut. He grabbed the phone on his desk, punched in a few numbers, then brought it to his dry mouth. “Lucifer? It’s Death. I’ve told you before, stop sending your I.O.U soul clients into my queue! They’re your business and you’re messing with my workflow!”

Silence from the other end.

“Heh,” Lucifer scoffed, “forget your funny bone again, Death?”

Death’s grip on the phone tightened. “I really hate you.”