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Death Waits at the Gate

Leigh-Anne Burley

    Death waits at the gate, admission is free, and he is not picky. It’s tedious work, downright dull. After endless centuries, faces blur, but disasters and famines speed up the process.
    Longing to take a break, Death talks to his cousins about filling in. Disaster, Disease, and Decay all say,
    “Sorry, only you can do this job.”
    “Well, at least bring take out to the gate.”
    “Even though our schedules are packed, we can manage that,” said the 3 D’s.
    “If you bring me any dead meat, I’ll kick your butts,” said Death.
    Death orders a fresh salad, thickly buttered bread, and a banana smoothie.
    Disaster goes the extra mile with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies.
    Disease shows up with hot black coffee on winter mornings, while Decay brings hot cocoa after a busy day. Death smiles and says,
    “Nice touch, boys.”
    “Keep up the good work. We depend on you to make our efforts worthwhile,” said the cousins.
    “I want to go on a cruise in the Mediterranean. Come on, guys, just a short trip. I promise I’ll be back in a jiffy,” said Death.
    They shake their heads, saying in unison,
    “Only Death can be Death.”
    He sits idly by the gate dreaming of sailing to exotic ports. So if you see Death lounging at his post, don’t get the idea he isn’t interested, and you can turn around. That road vanishes behind you. The sign above the gate states NEGOTIATIONS NOT POSSIBLE. RETURN TICKETS ARE ABSURD WHEN TRAVELING THROUGH THIS BLACK HOLE.

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