Death at the door

SAM: I see… so what was it, the beer?

DEATH: Well, I wouldn’t attribute it to one single thing, more like the multiple stab wounds on your chest.

SAM: What?

DEATH: The stab –

SAM: This is all her fucking fault then isn’t it.

DEATH: Excuse me?

SAM: Filling me with all those pork pies.

DEATH: Can you not see your bleeding out?

SAM: I told her I didn’t want them. But after a year two, I just gave up. My boys warned me, stubborn as a mule they said. Of course… a pretty face always drew me in. Disgusting things really… she could never get the pastry right.

DEATH: The pastry?

SAM: Of the pork pies.

DEATH: You’re blaming your wife’s pork pies on your death?

SAM: What else could it be? She’s never been a good cook; I knew her fatty concoctions would be the end of me.

JOANNE enters the room, looks back and forth at them confused. Then when the realization hits she runs to SAM’S side.

JOANNE: No! It can’t be…

SAM: It’s my time love.

JOANNE: You’re still young! You can’t just leave like this; I have mouths to feed still.

SAM: Well, it’s not exactly like I have a choice…

JOANNE: This was you’re drinking. I’ve always known it would lead to this.

SAM: It wasn’t my drinking, you moron –

JOANNE: Well, what is it then!

Death points towards the multiple stab wounds on SAMs chest.

SAM: Pointing is not helping the situation.

JOANE: What’s wrong with your chest… wait, did you take up smoking again! I though I destroyed that pipe how could you!

SAM: No! Well… occasionally… but –

JOANE: What about our children hm? What will I tell them?

SAM: Nothing, I don’t know… God just give a dead man a break, will you? And anyway, it wasn’t the smoking, Death and I have already concluded the cause.

DEATH: No we haven’t-

SAM: Yes, we have.

DEATH: Are you both dim? Look at my poor shoes, these were a birthday present too, I suppose I will never get the stain out. It’s not like I’m asking for a reimbursement or anything; although an apology would be nice, however, a little more observation would be –

JOANNE: Sam! Sam, you’re bleeding!

DEATH: Yes, he is indeed dear. I have mentioned that a few –

SAM: Oh my goodness… what is happening, I’m covered in it. Oh god, it’s everywhere –

JOANNE: Stay still! Let me put pressure on the wounds –

DEATH: Now I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but your dearest drunkard husband has been dead for over three minutes now. I don’t want to rush you… but you see I am busy so –

Just Die… please? 

Please die, my dearest loving husband

Caught by Death



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