Come and have a seat, kid. Wanna eat? I’m sure I-

…

Stop looking at me like that.

…

Better, now where was I? Oh, right, I’m sure I-

…

Okay, you better take a good look then. Yep, just drink it all in. Make sure I’m burned into your conscience until you see me in the mirror. Alright, you done yet?

Yeah, freaky, isn’t it? Well, I don’t much like your face either, you dumb mook. Look at you, sitting there on your fat-

…

You know what, let’s try this again. Just give me a minute.

…

Alright, here goes.

Come and have a seat, kid. Wanna eat? I’m sure I got something you’d like. Would you care for a drink? How about a cushion? Or maybe a fork in your eye if you don’t stop staring at me, like right this second?

Okay, seriously, it’s like you’ve never met someone like me before. What, is it the mane? Yeah, I know the whole “half-and-half” thing is distracting but can’t you be professional for a few freaking minutes? And do you have any idea how hard it is to keep cobwebs separate from hair? I spent hours trying to get this to not look like I just got out of bed this morning.

Or is it the half-skeleton shtick? Okay, let’s get this straight right now: I didn’t pick this look, kid, it picked me. When you’ve got a job like my kind do, some cards get dealt out with it. I just happened to get the joker on my draw. And don’t you dare think that just because you’re a little taller that you can act like you might be tougher than me, because you ain’t.

I was old before your species was crying for a mother, you dip.

You wanna make a deal or not? Because I’ve got way better things to do than spend any amount of time around here with you. I’ve got five colts, four fillies, three stallions, two mares, and a partridge in a pear tree to visit in Fillydelphia, Manehatten, and Canterlot before the day is out. I got schedules to keep, is what I'm saying.

…

What, you thought my job was easy? Just give me an answer before I lose my temper and-

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I hate you. So, so very much. No, hold on, words like “hate” can’t even begin to describe it. What's a stronger word than loathe?

Okay, you did some reading or you’ve got a friend who’s much smarter than you. Maybe a rock or a big, steaming mound of-

…

Alright, yes, I admit it. I technically can’t turn you into a pile of ash. The powers-that-be really don’t much like me, it would seem.

Ain’t it ironic? The Reaper can’t actually take life. “Freedom of choice” and all that garbage. And wouldn’t it be my luck that I’ve got the job of being the beginner of life too? So I’m also being represented by a freaking stork, of all things.

Now we get into that whole “circle of life” business, you know, that “every end is really a new beginning” stuff. But it’s just an excuse for someone to double my workload, the jerks, and do you really want me to get me started on this or did you wanna make a deal of some sort today?

…

Good grief, you’re obnoxious. Just sign it or don’t. I really couldn’t care less. Forget about your life story. I just want your signature. Why do you have to make this so difficult?

…

Oh, shut up. You know it'll never actually work as it is. She won’t notice you in a million years. I could make you the last male on earth and she won’t care. You’re too different.

…

Don’t give me that “But she can see me as me” drivel.

…

Because it’s true, that’s why. She sees you as you but she’ll never see you as us.

...

Hurts, don’t it? You ever try and get a date when you look like I do, kid? Yeah, trust me, it ain’t fun. Met this mare in Canterlot once; she tried to hit me with a frying pan.

Oh, then there was this utterly hilarious romp in Manehatten with a father who thought I was an absolute weirdo when I came to see his daughter and then he chased me through the streets for a couple hours. The daughter was kinda freaked out too. Maybe she was the one that hit me with the frying pan, it’s all a little fuzzy, to tell the truth.

Well, long story short, the city guard got involved, and, of course, Celestia had to give her two freaking bits…

Let's just forget it, okay? I could always have it worse. At least I don’t look like you. I might be able to trick a girl into thinking I’m a nice looking fella if I don’t turn to the right, and they’re crazy enough, but you got no good side at all, twerp.

…

Oh cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it. You’re the one who wanted to make a deal, and you’re failing miserably at even doing that right.

Why can’t you just pick up the quill and sign the thing?

…

Oh, for the love of me, why do I always have the indecisive morons?

I think I need a drink. You want something, or you gonna putz about that too?

…

Water it is, then, you wuss.

Good grief, I don’t wanna do this anymore, kid. I'm sick of it, I really am. I’ve always gotta attend all these funerals and baby showers, and heavens help you if you ever get mixed up. If that happens, even just once, it’s a relations nightmare. You’ll slog through the paperwork for years, and then you get those who think it’s somehow my fault that life ain’t working out like it should. I’m the one who's overworked and underpaid, but where’s my sympathy? I’m the one who’s gotta do the job no one else will sign up for, so where’s my thanks for it?

And, if there are two things I can no longer stand, it's infants and old folks. They both cry too much. Infants especially get freaked out, I don’t have the most soothing face to look at when you take that first breath after all, as you’ve likely deduced Sherlock, and I also haven’t found a lot of old folks who’re all that thrilled to see me when the day finally comes around. There’s always all this sobbing and crying, if not from them, then from some clingy relative.

I can’t even begin to tell you how many duels for someone’s soul I’ve had to go through; I don’t even like the fiddle.

…

Shows what you know, kid. Nobody ever truly wants to leave. Even those who think they’ve made their peace don’t really wanna go. And those who’re crazy enough for some reason to think they wanna go don’t really wanna go; they just wanna be somewhere that ain’t here.

But they can't ever actually face the likelihood that this is all they get. They’d be less inclined to waste that privilege to exist if they saw what I see everyday. And even for those that really want to live, and cling like flies to it, we still all gotta go someday.

Well, except for the unlucky few.

…

Yeah, like me, kid.

…

Don’t even think about it. I don’t need your pity, you schmuck, and we’re nothing alike. Your girl troubles ain’t got nothing on my work.

…

I can’t get a mare either, but if that’s all I had to worry about, I’d skip down Canterlot Mainstreet everyday and sing like a little filly at the top of my lungs until the Guard arrested me for severely disturbing the populace.

Care to try again, oh so horribly wounded one?

…

Wow, you’re a persistent louse.

…

No, no, by all means, please continue. I really wanna see where you take this.

…

Can I laugh now?

…

How about now?

…

Oh, let me play you a tune on the world’s most tear-stained violin.

You know what, on second thought, let’s scrap that idea. It’s too much like a fiddle. I’ve told you how much I hate fiddles, right? I wouldn’t make a murderer play them. Holy cats, do I hate fiddles.

And drinking anything that’s colored. It always leaks and I’m getting really tired of all the stains. You can’t ever command respect when you’ve got purple dribbled down your neck and chest because you’re missing half your lips.

By the way, yes, I caught you staring at me. Again.

...

No, that red stain on my ribcage came from five days ago. I felt in the mood for punch. And thanks for reminding me why I hate drinking punch.

You know, I also hate anyone that takes forever to decide whether to sign a contract or not. So would you care to do it now, or should I wait a few hundred years while you twiddle the hours away? Because I’m really busy. You know that, right? That I’m really busy?

And while I can’t personally make you into a pile of gelatin, because all the justice in this universe forbid I get something fun for once, that doesn’t mean I can’t dump you next to a pack of rabid chickens and laugh myself silly as you try to decide whether to run or not.

…

What, you think I hid some fine print in there? I don’t do that kid. What you see is what you get.

I don’t do that “mu ha ha” junk while twirling half a mustache. It’s stupid. And it would look stupid. And you’re stupid for even thinking I’m that stupid. When I make a deal, I make a deal; I don’t hide anything under the table and you should be grateful for that, you little snot.

But, maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe you don’t really love this mare. I know I could never stand her. I think I’d rather try to gnaw the legs off a hungry pack of Ursa Major’s than spend five seconds with that ditz.

…

Oh, now we grow a spine.

If that’s what you think, then sign it. Talk is cheap and I wanna see some proof. Make me believe you, even for a second, and maybe I’ll take it back.

…

I thought so. It’s easy to say you love her, but when push comes to shove, I guess you’ll hide behind your excuses like anyone else.

…

In a fair world? Yes, she could love you and you could be together no matter what. But take a guess where we live?

It’s the real world and it ain’t fair. No matter how you slice it, the way things are going is only a great recipe for a kinda creepy tragedy. Why it’s almost… Shakespearean.

Shoot, you found me, didn’t you? How much more dramatic could it get? Deals with all-powerful beings, all in the name of forbidden love, and a choice that must be made which may, or may not, end in happiness for all involved.

That’s if you quit stalling and sign it.

…

No, I can’t guarantee it’ll actually work. That’s your job. I’m just giving you an opportunity.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. I never said I would make her fall in love with you. And would you really want me to? C’mon, would you really want me to make her fall in love with you?

…

Nice to see we can agree on something. Now, are you going to sign?

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You didn’t even read the freaking thing?

…

Oh for crying out loud. I sent this to you days ago.

…

Very well, dark-bargains-for-dummies it is.

I grant you a brand new body and you get your shot at a happy ending. You know, big wedding, kisses exchanged, vows of until I do you part, that whole crock of baloney. I don’t know, or really care, if you get it, but I can guarantee you’ll have an actual chance as opposed to now, where the only way you’re getting anywhere is if I remove her eyes and ears for you.

And make her swim in a vat of dry ice with her mouth open. And take away her sense of smell.

I hope you get what I’m driving at.

…

I really hope this chick doesn’t have a working brain cell, or you’re in some serious trouble.

…

Fine.

Right. Now. You. Have. No. Future. Together.

Not. Now. Not. Ever.

Can. I. Make. This. Any. Clearer. For. You?

…

Oh look, some progress.

Alright, so, you'll get your body. If you think you can win the heart of yon hopefully very dim damsel, then good for you. If not, I still don’t care. The end result is the same: when your time comes, I get you.

I’m ready to go into partial retirement, kid. I wanna kick back some, maybe have a nice vacation for a couple days when I can.

I could finally enjoy a bath, and not have it smell like something crawled in the attic and forgot to leave. Or not have to clean cobwebs off my chair, or untangle it from my mane, or pull it out of my suit every day.

Oh mercy, I could finally wear a suit and not look like a lopsided dope. And I could drink punch again.

I’ll still hate the fiddle, though. Freaking fiddles. Someone needs to burn all the fiddles in the world. I should find the idiot that invented the fiddle and roast him on the bonfire of fiddles.

…

Sorry about that. Look, you want a chance or no?

…

Like I said, I can’t give you an absolute and I can’t change the rules of the game. All I can do is slip you an ace when no-one’s looking. You’ll still need to draw the rest of winning hand.

…

Of course I won’t try to interfere. I’m a jerk, not a sociopath.

…

Like I haven’t heard that before.

…

Kiss your mother with that mouth?

Don’t make me regret penciling you in today, because I can take away this deal whenever I wish. As a matter of fact, I wanna hear you make a choice in the next ten seconds or I’m going to boot you out of here so hard, your malformed great-grandchildren will have hoofmarks.

We’ve wasted enough time dancing 'round the bush and I’m about ready to pop, you weasel.

…

Nope. I’m counting. Ten.

…

Nine. Then make your choice. Eight.

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I, seven, don’t, six, care.

…

Five. Four.

…

And a three-a and a two-a.

…

Very good. You might wanna avoid walking the wire like that in the future.

Here’s your quill.

…

Why do you think there isn’t any ink in there?

…

If you hadn’t finally decided to sign this, I might resent that. Just prick somewhere and use it.

…

Because I like seeing you bleed, and I’m kinda hoping you hit your jugular.

…

Oh, boo hoo, you don’t like me. I’ll build you a boat to ride my oceans of tears.

…

Finally.

Give me a second to check the signature.

…

Hey, you’ve been making me wait all day. You can obviously spare the time.

...

Okay, everything’s in order. Come with me, kid, and we’ll see about getting you all swanked up for tonight. I know some real lady-killers. Maybe we can get you a nice black, I hear that’s always popular, though a very deep shade of red would look rather good with your eyes.

We’ll get rid of the slits, of course-

…

Oh fine, we’ll stick with that gaudy purple and green, then. It’s your body, not mine. Sheesh, let’s hope for your sake this girl doesn't actually have a sense of fashion.