King of the DEATH match
Death stood at the top of a snow-covered mountain.
Death: Everyone in BOB is going to learn a lesson very soon. There is only one thing in this world you can’t fight and win. Death. Some may think that’s cocky, but in my time, I’ve killed billions. Billions and billions of souls. Some of them put up a good fight. Some of them avoided me, hid from me, ran from me. Some just accepted their fate and waited for me to come.
Death: Those people were so boring.
Death: You know what I wish I could find (he said, leaning on his scythe, then scratching his ass with a white, bony finger). Somebody who could actually fight me. I don’t work for God. I don’t work for Satan. Well….I do work for God I guess, but….it’s not like I’m God’s hit man.
Death: Or maybe I am.
Death: Maybe…I am…
Death: Let’s go talk to God.
Death: Hey God.
God: Yes Death.
Death: Am I your hit man?
War: Hey Death!
Death: Hey War, how are you?
War: Not bad. Little busy, but, what you gonna do?
Death: How’s Pestilence doing these days? Haven’t seen him in ages.
God: Famine and he went off somewhere. Expect something quite interesting in the coming months.
War: So what are you two up to?
Death: Well, I’ve started wrestling in BOB.
War: No kidding. I’m working in baseball. Let me tell you. Things will never be the same in the MLB when I’m done.
War: Oh yeah!
God: Thank me.
Death: I thought War did it?
God: Oh, it’s just an expression.
Jesus: Ye, Dad, when are we gonna play some football?
God: Are the holes in your feet completely healed?
Jesus: Um, ye. Kind of a spirit now. That was only funny when I was a human. You’re so uncool Dad.
God: Kids. What ya gonna do with them?
Death: I can’t kill him again, can I?
[God was silent.]
God: Just kidding. OK, let’s go play.
[Jesus and God go elsewhere in Heaven.]
Death: Well then. To all the people who are unlucky enough to be in the King of the Death Match Tournament, at least some of you might be lucky enough to be up here when you die. As for the rest of you? Guess we’ll have to wait and see where you end up…
War: Wanna play chess?
Death: I’d rather play checkers.
War: Oooh, idea. How about some global thermonuclear warfare.
Death: Now that’s a plan, War. Let’s go….