The mildly boring adventures of Death
In the twilight of the morning, Death comes home from a hard day's work, it's not easy moping up after every one. A sigh comes from the hooded face, as Death rests her scythe beside the umbrella stand; she pats her cloak, shaking off her the dusts of civilizations. Here falls the library of Alexandria, there the steps of Macchu Pichu. She coughs, a little bit of Cortez's gold got caught in her thraot- pesky colonial powers, always trying to hang on. She unhoods and looks in the flawless mirror, Vanity gave her for her birthday.
Her face, pale as usual, shimmers like the moon; her eyes droop a bit, she's finally showing her age, but in them are set the clear blue opals that she inherited from her mother, Sleep. They are without fault, playful, seductive and always get her into trouble. Men have died for those eyes, for in them is the knowlegde of ages, the meaning of life and the answer to life's eternal questions, like how much wood a woodchuck could chuck.
A knock comes at her door, she rolls her eyes and straightens her flowing raven hair. She looks through her peep hole, standing before her apartment door is a woman, cleavage heaving out underneath a peasant blouse, willowy aubrun hair freely blowing in the wind. Her curvy, vivacious frame fills up most of the view, which death has always envied. Beside her stands a man, devilshly handsome, foppish, adjusting the curls of his hair; licking his lips as he closes his compact and puts it back in his bag. Theyve been together for ages, Birth and Sex, yet theyve never tied the knot, maybe its because Sex swings on boths sides of the river and birth can never keep her head straight...such is the way for creatures of instantaneous delight. Death sighs and puts on her robes again, she opens the door...
"Hi."
She says, almost chipper,
"Listen darling, we just had to come and see you; word on the grapevine is Pestilence is dating Poverty again and she just caught him in bed with War..."
Sex says, as he waves his hands in a flourish, "She might explode any minute now...Wanna come watch, it should be fun."
Death sighs, and says, "Sorry mates, had a long night..."
Birth says, in her whisper of a voice, "You should really take some time off, you always work yourself to...well you know."
Death smiles at her cousin, and shrugs her shoulders,
"Tell me all the dirty details tomorrow at Marriage's divorce party...And I'll tell you about this guy I met...His name is Globalization he seems like a nice guy."
Birth and Sex oooh and aaaaah at Death's love prospects, they wave goodbye and venture to see Poverty explode on Pestilence and War. Death sighs, stretches and lays upon her bed; her cat, Love, cuddles up beside her, purring elegantly in long drawn out breaths. Death at long last relaxes after a long night; she isn't even wakened by her roomate and brother Life as he comes in from another late night of partying with his girlfriend Serendipity. He covers his dear sister up and kisses her on the cheek like their mother used to do, he'll tell her about Serendipity's pregnancy tomorrow, she'll like that.
Her face, pale as usual, shimmers like the moon; her eyes droop a bit, she's finally showing her age, but in them are set the clear blue opals that she inherited from her mother, Sleep. They are without fault, playful, seductive and always get her into trouble. Men have died for those eyes, for in them is the knowlegde of ages, the meaning of life and the answer to life's eternal questions, like how much wood a woodchuck could chuck.
A knock comes at her door, she rolls her eyes and straightens her flowing raven hair. She looks through her peep hole, standing before her apartment door is a woman, cleavage heaving out underneath a peasant blouse, willowy aubrun hair freely blowing in the wind. Her curvy, vivacious frame fills up most of the view, which death has always envied. Beside her stands a man, devilshly handsome, foppish, adjusting the curls of his hair; licking his lips as he closes his compact and puts it back in his bag. Theyve been together for ages, Birth and Sex, yet theyve never tied the knot, maybe its because Sex swings on boths sides of the river and birth can never keep her head straight...such is the way for creatures of instantaneous delight. Death sighs and puts on her robes again, she opens the door...
"Hi."
She says, almost chipper,
"Listen darling, we just had to come and see you; word on the grapevine is Pestilence is dating Poverty again and she just caught him in bed with War..."
Sex says, as he waves his hands in a flourish, "She might explode any minute now...Wanna come watch, it should be fun."
Death sighs, and says, "Sorry mates, had a long night..."
Birth says, in her whisper of a voice, "You should really take some time off, you always work yourself to...well you know."
Death smiles at her cousin, and shrugs her shoulders,
"Tell me all the dirty details tomorrow at Marriage's divorce party...And I'll tell you about this guy I met...His name is Globalization he seems like a nice guy."
Birth and Sex oooh and aaaaah at Death's love prospects, they wave goodbye and venture to see Poverty explode on Pestilence and War. Death sighs, stretches and lays upon her bed; her cat, Love, cuddles up beside her, purring elegantly in long drawn out breaths. Death at long last relaxes after a long night; she isn't even wakened by her roomate and brother Life as he comes in from another late night of partying with his girlfriend Serendipity. He covers his dear sister up and kisses her on the cheek like their mother used to do, he'll tell her about Serendipity's pregnancy tomorrow, she'll like that.