THE CLICHÉ OF LIFE AND DEATH

Death stalked along the beach, kicking moodily at shells and polished pebbles and letting his long black robes trail wetly in the surf. He had left his scythe at home because for once he was off duty. It was rare, very rare for Death to get a day off. In fact the last recorded occasion was over eight hundred years ago on the day the Black Death ended and no one queried that decision. “And I should think not,” Death continued his one sided conversation. “Flying around the Earth faster than that newcomer Santa and I had to keep all those souls safe in my bag until I could deliver them. Oh yes, it’s alright for Santa; all he has to do is chuck parcels out. Much more difficult to keep them all safe AND do it night and day for months.”
This time Death had his own reasons for a day off and had asked The Boss for a personal day. The Boss had hesitated, prevaricated and questioned but Death would not say why. He just needed to some time to sort out a problem. The Boss finally agreed providing Death did some extra assignments at double time to make up the numbers and did not take any more time off for two hundred and fifty three years, nine days and two and a half hours. Death agreed because The Boss had a way of making things difficult if you didn’t.

So here he was, wasting time on a beach trying to solve his dilemma. For Death had fallen in love with Life, but Life always fled in the face of Death and so he never got a chance to tell her how he felt. He had never seen her face but he knew she was beautiful because her hair was so golden and curly, her bottom was so deliciously rounded and her legs were so long and slender as she ran away each time she sensed his presence.
Of course he didn’t really look like his press photo but anyone still alive saw a skeleton in a tatty black robe. In reality he was not a bad looking bloke if he said so himself but you had to be dead to appreciate it and he couldn’t kill off Life just to get her to stay and talk. Well, actually he could but he wouldn’t because that would cause chaos. The Boss would have nothing to do as Heaven and Hell more or less ran themselves and no one could have Him playing around with the ribbons of the Universe again. Who knew what He would come up with next time? He made enough of a mess the first time; floods, famine and fires. Then He got tired of the dinosaurs because they were boring and Death had to go and round them all up; now He was in two minds about humans because they hadn’t turned out right either.

Death began his search for Life. First he called into Heaven. A deadly place in his opinion. It was pretty enough if you liked celestial blue and fluffy white but everyone grew fat and lazy just lying around on clouds. Life wasn’t there. Hell, in contrast, was rocking with music and conversation. Here were all the bars, clubs, strip joints and Ann Summers shops. Death spent quite a while searching for Life here but she wasn’t to be found. He sat at a bar staring into his whiskey, bony chin in bony hand.
“It’s a mystery to me,” said a voice. Death looked up to find the bartender standing in front of him. He frowned. “Wassa myshtery?”
“How you can look so miserable in a great place like this,” the bartender replied. Now Death had already had a few drinks, didn’t have the stomach for it and like many people he became talkative, so he told the bartender about his problem. The bartender thought for a minute and then leaned his forearms on the bar and lowered his voice confidentially. “Look mate, seems to me the only place you’re going to find Life is on Earth.” Death was stunned by this revelation; of course, why hadn’t he thought of it! “You’re shooo right,” he declaimed as he slid off the barstool and fell into a drunken sleep.

Three hours later he awoke and peeled himself off the sticky bar room floor. He staggered out and found a park bench to sit on and nurse his aching head. He ignored the men in dirty raincoats wandering around and tuned out the noisy couple behind the bushes as his sozzled brain began to work again. Life was on Earth and he couldn’t go there on his day off. What if someone saw him and died of fright? Think of the endless enquiries not to mention the paperwork! No, it couldn’t be done. But tomorrow when he could go back it would be the same old story; whenever he turned up, Life would flee. If Death was going to win Life for himself there was only one plan that would work. He would have to do the unthinkable and take Life herself and then she would be his forever. The tricky bit would be presenting it to The Boss in such a way that He would think it was His own idea and that Death was just obeying orders. Still, The Boss was already disillusioned with this new race He had created.

Life and Death sat perched on rocks side by side in the middle of a huge, dusty desert. The Boss looked down and watched them as they turned to each other, arms gesturing and mouths moving. He was, at last, satisfied with His creation. Two creatures in harmony with their surroundings and nothing else on Earth at all. There was no need for crops, water, animals, fish, amoeba or bacteria for they were immortal. The Boss let out a satisfied sigh, put His feet up on the desk and lit a fat cigar. At last His work was done.

If there had been any flies left, one could have settled on a nearby rock to listen to the loving conversation; but there were none and so Death was the only one who heard his beloved. “And another thing…..” continued Life, “you never help around the house; you promised to take me out but you never do and since your retirement you do nothing but get under my feet….” Death stared out across the barren waste letting her voice wash over him as he pondered the purpose of Life.

Mae 2010