“You can’t be serious!” Screamed an obviously emotional warlock. His bruised body perched on the table, resembling a child’s tantrum; as plates crashed to the floor. He brandished a wooden spoon as if it were a sword, swinging it carelessly –
“Put the spoon down” grunted a rather distressed Death.
“Never, I refuse! Do you hear me? I shall never die!”
“Come now, there is no need for these… antics” persuaded Death, perhaps with a little compassion and reasoning, he would come to sense. At least, he thought this before being pummelled with flour.
“Listen, I know it’s hard… dying is always a complicated matter. However, one should always act with dignity, or at least… Please don’t, put down the sugar.”
“Never! I am not common folk, you just don’t understand” The crazy man yelled.
Pointing to himself with confidence, he repeated the phrase “I am the warlock Pebblestone! I deny death!” And started, once again, to throw more cooking utensils at a now late, Death.
“I do apologise, but I have other appointments today so… I will have to take my leave.” Walking away from the scene Death could hear the man repeating that he had “won” and would “forever walk the earth”. Perhaps a few hundred years as a zombie would calm the man down. Death thought positively about this situation, he preferred looking at the bright side after all. Once the warlock’s limbs started to deteriorate he was sure – no – he was positive, that he would come around to dying.