Send My Wife Dead Flowers
Death was feeling nostalgic. He looked over various photos and random merchandise he collected over the years that never sold because BOB is terrible at running a profitable company. Ah, the good old days of the Skull & Bones Society. But now Death and Steve Studnuts will face each other for the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. In a cage. On Total Non-Action Wrestling iMPLOSION 10.
“Them Bones” by Alice in Chains ringing on his cell phone agitated Death.
“Hello?”
“Uhhhhhhh,” came the reply, followed by wheezing.
“For the last time, this isn’t 976-HOTT.” Death hung up the phone.
Then the doorbell rang.
“I’ve got to get to Sin City. The show’s about to start. Now what?”
Death rushed to the door of his palatial estate. After a few seconds, he opened the door. A bald, veiny, pale mishapen creature stood on his front step with a handful of dead black roses.
“Hey, Death.”
“Tyrant. How’s it going?”
“Not bad. Got a delivery here for your wife.”
Death stared at Tyrant for several seconds.
“I don’t need a signature, I guess.”
Death stared at Tyrant.
“So, I guess there’s no tip?”
Death stared at Tyrant.
“C’mon, man. I’ve got two Cerberus’s to feed. Have a heart.”
“I don’t HAVE a heart.”
“Do I have to kick your ass?” Tyrant asked, tossing the flowers down.
“I don’t have an ass.”
“I’ll skin you alive!”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Death said with a chuckle. “Wait. Steve? Studnuts?”
“No. Tyrant! Remember?”
“Oh. You just sounded like some other jacked up idiot who won’t ever be able to conquer me. My bad.”
“Hmm. Why do I feel like I’ve been used as a prop in a roleplay?”
“That’s YOUR issue, man. Not mine. And who sent the dead black roses?”
“I think it was Zorro.”
Tyrant handed Death a small envelope. After a rip and a poof, Death shook out a card. The inside of the card was simply signed with a bloody “Z.” Oh, and a piece of tongue.
“Vincent van Zombie?” Tyrant asked.
Once again, “Them Bones” on his cell phone played.
“Hello?”
“Uhhhhhhh,” came the reply, followed by wheezing.
Death hung up. Tyrant stared at him.
“You’re waiting for a tip, aren’t you? Fine.”
Death reached into his cloak. Instead of money, Tyrant received a middle finger salute. Then the door was slammed shut in his face.