One last party

How do you want to go?

I ask every single one of them that question. I give them all, no matter who they are or what they did, that courtesy and then I arrange it like that.

What is life anyway but a series of arrangements? We enter into arrangements with one another. Contracts. Promises. And so there are accepted upon exchange rates the world over, under, above, and of course, below.

Why do you think I was destined for hell in the first place?

He asked go where.

The amount of them that ask go where would surprise you. It is not nearly as high as you would think. Most people get it. I give off a certain vibe.

You've seen me. I usually do recon by inhabiting people nearby for a bit before going in and you know me because you've seen me in people. You can feel me when I go by and you can smell me in the air.

I linger.

This particular iteration of me is less than ideal.

Last century has been lackluster in terms of the death and destruction given that I'm literally only inhabiting the body of the Grim Reaper and his consciousness to avoid being hell-bound myself and when I was in the business of taking life on Earth is was for monetary gain, pure and simple. It was business'. I took no pleasure in it and if I had been born with a silver spoon in my mouth then maybe I wouldn't have reached for a gun with my hand.

I'm worried about the next guy they got coming up; apparently he is already looking to extend his contract. Trying to be Rookie of the Year Reaper. MVP. Says, "big things in 2024, huge."

But I still got one last King of Rock and Roll to show the door before I go so as I was saying I asked how he wanted to go and once he understood the concept I was assuming he would say something like, giant rock and roll party which would be easy enough.

But he didn't want that. He wanted to die by a single gunshot wound to his medulla oblongata and he wanted to donate his body to the organ transplant list and he wanted me to promise him, to promise him on my word of honor as a Grim Reaper, as a kindred spirit, a fellow traveler who has walked the dark and lonely path, that his liver and lungs and heart and kidneys would all be used by someone.

He said lots of other stuff but it was mostly around how we could get more drugs and alcohol in the meantime before we had to do the whole dying thing, he wasn't fussed about it, but he did have a fairly decent buzz going and he was rather keen to keep that apparently.

Everyone knows that if you meet the devil at a crossroads and he offers you something the price will be your soul.

Everyone thinks that when the Grim Reaper shows up you get a chance to play him for your soul like that painting by Retzsch.

Niet.

When I show up it is checkmate. I take your life and bring you whether you like it or not.

There is no debating moving on with a Grim Reaper. Flee a Grim Reaper, wind up in Samarra.

There is no fighting a Grim Reaper.

I will arrive to the King of Rock and Roll. A Grim Reaper always arrives and takes life. I will arrive as a heart attack or an aspiration from an overdose or an armed robbery white tile stained red .380 casing clatters like an 808.

Except, in the event that a Grim Reaper offers a choice. Then the arrangement changes and even I can't change it back.

If I offer you a choice then I can only take you if I take you according to your wishes otherwise I can't take you.

But most people don't know second part. In fac, we actively discourage people knowing that part. You should forget about that part and you should definitely not tell anyone. For sure, do not tell more than 13 people about it otherwise, you know what, never mind, you do you boo-boo.

Anyway, in 99 out of 100 times thus far this has not been a problem.

I mean basically, here is how it goes, broken down in steps:

1. I show up.

2. I look like that.

3. Not like that.

4. Like that.

5. They believe right away or they need to look into my eyes and then they believe immediately.

6. I tell them I am here to take them. Some ask where, even though they know where, they still ask, which is why the number who ask is not as high as you would think. They are asking after they have looked into my eyes. They know where exactly where they are going.

7. They plan their exit.

Now, drug addled or not this guys exit wasn't the problem. It was, in my corporeal form, the easiest culmination of 100 souls a guy could ask for, I mean, come on, I had a nice little Glock 17 in the Mitsubishi Eclipse outside and he was literally already in a seated position in a place where it would be easy to clean up.

I had no qualms about the killing or how he wanted it done but I knew that there was know what I could honor stipulations that would follow his demise.

His kidneys wouldn't fetch a nickel on the black market, that heart was worth only the memories it held, those lungs which would have carried ten other men to Everest ten times over were all spent from pumping tar back and forth, and the liver; well, the liver was basically chopped liver.

My Ma used to say, "what am I, chopped liver?" when she felt ignored. God, she was a great Ma. Worked hard to put food on the table.

But anyway, I can technically send him off packing but his meaty parts aren't worth dogmeat scraps and because of that I can't fulfill the second part of his request necessary for the requiescat in pace to work now that I offered the choice and changed the arrangement.

So anyway, we are hitting 90 meetings in 90 days and then we will see how the recovery tour goes, hopefully we can generate enough revenue through that for the surgeries and treatments.

I, personally, can't wait till this guy gets his career in order, gets healthy, gets sober, gets happy, gets his body right so I can fucking shoot him in the back of the head and get on with my afterlife.