Deftly pushing his rectangular framed glasses up his oh so important nose, William T. Spears scanned all the rookies' verification reports. As he was the mentor for the new recruits, it was astonishing that the new interns were of the sole population of ten with only one woman. It was a relief to say the least when he discovered that even though she was indeed a hit with the men, she managed to fend them off with her customized scythe. Although, years back when Reapers were allowed to use their customized Death Scythes after they pass the final test, his superiors claimed the trainees would work faster and efficiently if they were allowed some freedom with their scythes.
Tch, besides the lady reaper, most of the men seemed a bit incompetent and unwilling to follow regulations. Among them, at least one of them seemed to be a bit of a mini Sutcliff and a Knox follower. That ruled out three of the newbies, but the rest seemed to be new breeds of troublesome, rowdy co-workers. Was the British Dispatch that desperate to import recruits from other nations, who also had the tendency to rebel against the regulations-the five commandments in Will's opinion- set by Spears?
Blearily, the dark haired supervisor adroitly picked through his orderly piles of fine printed documents on his desk. Although he was a bit of a neat freak, papers tended to become a bit untidy if his mind wandered elsewhere… usually concerning that unruly transtetvite, Grell. As his nearsighted eyes perused the Death Lists and to whom accomplished them, his vibrant green eyes caught sight of something quite…odd.
To Will, odd things should be banned, executed, and put to death and sent to the Demons to feed. Unfortunately, the odd things that were in his line of work was Knox and Sutcliff, but the higher ups wouldn't comply with his request to kill them with his pruning pole. Or, at the very least send them away to some different nation so he could have some peace and quiet. In this instance, this odd thing that had the audacity to reside on his desk was an offending scrap of paper.
Warily, he pulled the affronting manuscript, out of his meticulous stack and decided to read through it. Instead of the usual printed letters typed by a computer, a childish scrawl decorated the page. Unsurprisingly, it appeared that one of the bumbling fools decided to head this parchment as the 'Diary of the Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt.' Eyes narrowing in disbelief, the stoic reaper decided to see whether or not he should fire this transgressing 'Gilbert Beilschmidt.' From what he can see, this person was not awesome at all. Now, if he wrote about the five rules in a very descriptive manner and interpretation of the reapers, then that would have been deemed as awesome.
LINE BREAK
Today, because I am a Grim Reaper (which is cool) I get to reap a soul for my training (awesome!) Since there are few recruits (my awesomeness beat them all!) I got stuck with the lame Elizabeta Hedervary. (She sucks so much that I thought she was a man at first! Real women wear skirts!)
Anyways, there was this teenaged guy that was assigned to the awesome me and the dumb he/she man. You know what else? Hungarians suck and they're all losers. Of course, the only Hungarian I've ever met was my lame-o partner, but who cares? Prussians rule!
So this guy was a pretty, not-awesome, but average guy. (I made sure he wasn't Hungarian. By the way, I think Spears-Up-His-Butt is Austrian. You know what that means. Austrians also suck because they are on top of Hungary!) So this average Joe (Lizzy tells me that his name was Matthew Williams, but I deem that name un-awesome) was a guy who repaired drying machines. See? Not exactly Awesome as Me, but not like the loser Hungarian. However, my Awesome Me did a double take. No, diary, you heard me correctly. Yes, I will awesomely repeat myself again for my sanity and yours. I made a horrid mistake. (That was un-awesome, but I will make an awesome exception because I AM AWESOME!)
So this blonde Joe had standard-that seemed Hungarian-memories. (Apparently, the man-lady pointed out, he was Canadian born in Ottawa. Do those guys live in igloos? His senses of fashion-only real men talk about outfits-only consisted of red sweater and jeans. Which he wore EVERY SINGLE DAY IN HIS UN-AWESOME LIFE! No kidding, diary. I know. I saw it in his Cinematic Records.
So, on the day he was supposed to die, my partner and I came a bit late. Like a second late, but who cares? I still don't know why that stupid Hungarian threatened to kill me with her Death Scythe. (It's an awesome frying pan by the way... Like I'll admit that to her…)
I was about to stamp the Yes, we will kill so and so and cut through his records when I noticed something. Want to know how he awesomely died, diary? I will awesomely tell you. DEATH BY EXPLODING DRYING MACHINE! Pretty awesome, right? So I was about to use my awesome Death Scythe-it's a beer bottle opener that is AWESOME-when I realized something dark about his shirt. I hesitated in confusion-but still awesome-when I realized he HAD to live!
Knocking out the lame Hungarian, I restored Joe's memories, used my awesome nursing skills, and he awesomely survived. That's right, diary. I gave him the Prussian stamp of awesomeness and approval. Besides, I brought him back to life! Not only do I bring death to people like a pizza boy, but I also deliver life! Who said a Grim Reaper like the handsome devil I am can't bring the dead back to life! I AM AWESOME!
So, this is the diary entry slash awesome rookie report of the-WAIT FOR IT.
THE AWESOME PRUSSIAN
*Drum roll*
Gilbert Beilschmidt!
P.S. I AM STILL AWESOME!
LINE BREAK
"So pray tell," as he coldly adjusted his equally cool glasses," did this Matthew Williams do that he deserved to live." Wow that was harsh, it was as if the callous overseer asked him to kill somebody without remorse. Oh, wait…
With manly tears in his eyes, the Prussian- as he liked to refer to himself as-spoke up. "Never in my life-"
"You have bee reborn as a reaper for three years, but go on," William bluntly interrupted.
"-had I met someone so," he instantly broke down.
In shock-not really-the senior just dumbly stared at his fallen apprentice as he bawled his green eyes out. After five minutes of incessant crying, William sent for his 'Emotions Specialist', Grell Sutcliff.
With an unsightly crash and a bang, a redheaded blur flew right on top of the mahogany desk. Without even stopping to acknowledge the collapsed Prussian, the he/she person planted a sloppy kiss on Will's cheek. Obviously, the redhead was far too smitten with the unfeeling male to hear the manly sniffling of yours truly. Because of that, he began to hit on Will.
"Willie dear, I feel lonely. Want to-"
"Deal with the subordinate, Sutcliff." Harshly, he slapped one of his co-worker's cheeks, knocking him to the ground. As the elder of all three in the room pinched his nose halfheartedly, a blonde man rushed in.
"Miss Grell, you forgot your papers…" pausing in midsentence, he took in the room and the strange occupants. "Did I come at a bad time?"
Nervously, he stealthily edged his way out the door-he was not going to let the new kid give him unneeded overtime!-when-
"I let him live because," he gasped for the pure oxygen," there was maple syrup and lint on his shirt in the shape of," his raspy voice hitched," my dear fallen comrade," as he stood up, he saluted and addressed the sky," GILBIRD! I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOU, OR OUR NATAL LAND, PRUSSIA!
All was silent in the room as Mr. Spears assessed the situation.
"You let Mr. Williams' soul live because of maple syrup encrusted lint!"
"Clint Eastwood."
The entire population of the crowded office stared at him, mouths agape. Even Will couldn't help but open his mouth in envy of Gilbert's awesomeness.
"Clint is awesome. Lint rhymes with Clint and the other awesome word flint. Since Joe was covered in lint in the shape of my awesome BFF, he is deemed awesome enough to live."
"Can we keep him? I bet that chap can party!"
A thud came from the mahogany desk as Will's logical forehead made contact. Were the Human Resources people that desperate?
