Prompt Ramblings - 2. Prompt 210 - Grim Reaper

Aw, fuck. I’m dead.

I would have to be the only one who didn’t get out of the way before the bus crashed through the window because I was preoccupied with finding non-Canadian change in my pocket. The Disney show tunes blasting through my I-Pod didn’t help. I didn’t even get my coffee before it happened.

I couldn’t even die in a dignified way. No dying gracefully in my sleep looking like a vampire waiting to rise. That would have been cool. No, I get to be splattered across a bus windshield in a contortionist position that would make a cartoon envious. Oh, God. I just remembered I’m wearing those pink gag gift boxers because I needed to do laundry. Lovely.

There’s a lot of craziness going on around me but no one seems to notice me. Police, firefighters and paramedics are all racing around, but it looks like I was the only one seriously hurt. I'm waiting for something to happen, but it looks like I’m just kinda stuck here. No bright lights. No fire and brimstone. No awesome blockbuster CGI-effects to accompany me. I’m in a shitty indie film with excellent directing. I always knew something like this would happen. It probably has to do with the incident in fifth grade with JoAnne’s pony tail, kitty litter and super glue. I’m pretty sure I’m being punished for that.

The worst was when the civil worker started using what looked like a spatula to pry me off the windshield. Dude! Watch the hair! Christ, I can hear “The Little Mermaid” soundtrack still pumping out of my headphones. How humiliating. My I-Pod survived.

I rolled my eyes when he started to do his impression of scraping burnt beef stroganoff from a skillet. I reached for his wrist to put an end to it. There had to be a better way to complete this task.

“Don’t touch him!”

The woman’s voice startled me. I spun around to find a tiny, brown haired woman walking carefully between the dances of emergency crews surrounding the accident. Her hair style and floral print dress looked like something out of the old depression era photos I'd seen. It took me all of one second to realize if she was talking to me, she could see me. She had to be dead too.

“Why? What’ll happen?”

“He’ll die before his time.”

“What!?” My voice peaked like an adolescent boy. It was just one more embarrassing moment in this string of events.

Her small hand took mine and led me away from the crash site. She kept patting my hand like I needed comforting, but seriously I was kinda fascinated by all of it. My life had been full of crappy moments that made me surround myself in fantasy role playing and science fiction. Maybe that prepped me for the strange and unusual, or maybe I was in huge denial over my imitation of the bug on the windshield. It was hard to tell.

“No one should have to watch the scene of their own end.”

“Is this heaven or hell?” She stopped walking as her eyes grew wide with surprise. They were so large in shock that it made me feel a lot weirder than finding my body splattered on the bus. I wiped at the bottom of my nose to make sure I didn’t have a booger.

“Most people take a lot longer to acclimate to all of this,” she spoke quietly. “But this is neither. You are in between. Those who are granted this are charged with shepherding the newly departed to the afterlife.”

“You’re saying I’m a grim reaper.”

She nodded gently. “That’s one way of saying it.”

“Do I get the robe and scythe?”

“I’m sorry. That really is more of a human conception.”

I crossed my arms and frowned. “Well, that's gonna take some of the coolness factor out of all of this. How am I supposed to strike fear in people dressed like this?”

“That's really besides the point. We can’t be seen.”

I scrunched my face like a petulant child while Mona, that was she introduced herself, began to drone on about our mission in the afterlife. While we walked away further from the scene she talked reverently about our sacred charge to ferry people along, allowing heaven or hell to claim the person based on their personal history. Lucky people like us were granted a gift to take a special part in the circle of our existence.

All I heard was blah blah blah. Your touch will send others to the afterlife. Blah blah blah. Sacred Duty. Blah blah blah. No one can see you but other grim reapers. Blah blah blah. No sex.

While she going on and on my eye caught the coffee chick that was cashiering when I got ran over. She was one of those pseudo-buddhists that refused to bathe regularly and had one of those funky smells that only an unwashed woman can have. I didn't want to entertain the idea of where that stench was coming from. If she hadn't refused a Canadian quarter and penny, I wouldn't be listening to a dead woman spout dogma at me on how I would spend eternity.

The cashier girl was standing near the edge of the crowd milling around unable to stop watching the crash site. Casualty vampires. She looked annoyed and I could hear her bitching about whether this meant she was out of work.

So I touched the dirty hippie. Just to see what would happen.

She slumped to the pavement to the shock of others around her just as a bright light emanated from her body. A glowing copy of the cashier rose from the body, which was met by an ethereal light from above before it swallowed her and vanished. In the distance, I could hear the faint sound of an angelic choir.

“Seriously!?” I shouted into the sky with my hands on my hips. “She gets heaven? Where's the justice in that?”

Mona was aghast as she ran to my side. “What have you done? How am I supposed to explain this?”

I wasn't paying attention to her. Oh look! There was that jock douchebag that treated me like crap last year walking across the street. I giggled like a giddy schoolgirl as I ran to him with outstretched hands. The glow of retributive karma warmed my chest. Mona turned out to be a lot faster than I expected. She appeared in front of me before I could reach him. She sputtered when she spoke.

“That is enough! There will be no more unsanctioned ascensions!” The little woman was positively tweaked out of her undead mind.

“Sorry, honey. But unless you plan on following me around forever, I'm going on a killing spree.”

Mona shook her head in pure disbelief. “I have never... No one has ever...”

She really looked like she was going to have a meltdown. It made me feel a little sorry for her. I wondered if she was going to get in trouble over me. But I figured they should have chosen better if they were really worried about it all. Wasn't someone supposed to be omniscient enough to know how inherently crazy I was? There's a reason I'd never had a boyfriend up until now. Okay, there was more than one reason, but we're not explaining that. Even so, I felt a little guilty that Mona was so upset.

“Rush Limbaugh, Reverend Phelps and Pat Robertson,” I said.

Mona turned to me in utter confusion. “I don't understand.”

“That's my kill list. Give me those three and I'll be a good little executioner.” I put my hand over my heart and gave my best Boy Scout salute. I'm not sure I was actually doing it right. I was never in the Boy Scouts.

“That's ridiculous.”

“That's my demands.”

She couldn't stop shaking her head like a twitching blender. “It's unheard of.”

“That's fine. If you need me I'll be found in the subways during rush hour looking to reach out and touch someone.” To underscore my point, I kept poking a finger at every person who walked by, narrowly stopping short of actual contact.

Mona looked ready to erupt. If you could made a dead person explode through sheer aggravation, I was pretty sure I was close to finding out. Her face was crimson and unhealthy veins were protruding from her neck and forehead. Was that even possible?

“Fine!” she shrieked. “Limbaugh, Phelps and Robertson. Then you will perform your duties in a more dignified fashion.”

“Really?” I didn't think she'd really cave that easily. Maybe she didn't like right wing sycophants, televangelists and homophobes either. I found myself rubbing my hands together like a cartoon serial villain. Maybe this gig wouldn't be so bad after all.