Death can take anybody!
Death had a simple message for every member of the Creighton basketball team. And he delivered the same speech to every member individually in the days following their loss:
“I’m a fair judge. People tend to think Death is unfair and those who die don’t deserve it. They curse God and wonder why. How can Death take children? How can Death take babies? How can Death take musicians, politicians? Same way Death can take a loser basketball player!” he said, pointing a skeletal digit at his future victim.
Typical reaction? Falling to knees and asking not be taken. Some peed their pants.
“Stop stealing Urine’s gimmick,” he’d say to those with bladder control issues.
“I warned you all that if you lost, I’d kill you all. And that scared you. It scared you so bad, you actually pulled an upset in double OT. You made Death smile. I haven’t smiled since Jim Morrison pressed some chick’s thigh way back in the ’60s or ’70s.”
Death usually banged the end of his scythe on the floor at this point.
“I forget when exactly. We did a lot of drugs back then. Yeah, me and Jim were good friends there for a spell. Just me, him and his cock.”
Death coughed.
Four people died of lung cancer.
Death sneezed.
A little boy died of pneumonia.
“Excuse me. Little dry in here.”
Death cleared his throat.
Fifteen people died of cancer.
“But I digress. You (he’d insert the player’s name here), failed to win the NCAA tournament, which I don’t care about. But you cost me the BOB Only World Title That Matters.”
Death scratches his knee. Four people died in car crashes.
“But since your team did better than I thought, I’ll let you live a little longer than if you’d gone out in round one. You won’t know when…”
Death scratches his crotch. Seven people die of AIDS.
“You won’t know where or why. But when Death calls, everyone picks up the phone.”
Death turned and headed back to work.