Death smiled to himself. Nothing made his job more entertaining than a dramatic monologue. “Oh how the end is near”, they’d spout before beginning to drone on about what they’d do differently. Death had heard it a million times before. Rarely, if given a chance, would they actually do things differently…and Peter Mackowski was the same. He was a chronic alcoholic, divorcee, and scam artist with a problematic obsession for horse races. In the end, death saw his untimely departure for what it was, an unfortunate messy incident and part of his often overlooked but honourably necessary job. Peter Mackowski choked on his vomit while he slept in an alcohol-induced coma. Death, with access to his final thoughts, and Peter, unaware they were his final thoughts, reminded himself to fill up the mini vodka bottles with water for the mini-fridge when he got up. Death shook his head with a sigh. The lack of self-reflection was beyond disappointing and made Death wonder why he didn’t major in accounting instead.
