Hello! Third story in the Contest of DOOM! WHOOOOOOO!

If you're just now tuning in, I'll lay out the contest gist.

This is the idea: we make OCs in the universes, and becuse she and I both tend to write romances, we will...dun dun dun! Set each other up with an OC in that universe or a real chacter!

Sound stupid? We thought so! But it keeps us amused. Here are the rules:

1. An author can only use a specific universe once.

2. The OC character must obviously be either Semine or Kali, but the actual names "Semine" and "Kali" cannot be used.

3. Reviews are points. One review therefore equals one point, so review all of Semine's stories many times!

4. Nothing too explicit. Mushy stuff should end with the uber kiss.

5. Teasing allowed, but nothing too cruel.

6. NO GRAVE-DIGGING OR CRADLE-ROBBING!

Okay, now that that's cleared up: if you are just reading now, I heartly recommend looking up the other stories in the Contest of DOOM. And, on another note, MAJOR PROPS TO REDWREN! The pizza suggestion shall be used; great idea!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Grim Adventures, The Seventh Seal or anything of O. Henry's. I'm just borrowing them. Kathleen D. Block, however, is my original character and is therefore mine, mine, mine, mine, MINE!

On with the show...

This is a Krim Deaper. Enjoy!

On the west side of Endsville, there is a small, two-level home that belongs to a single woman named Ms. Kathleen D. Block. Ms. Block lived alone and had lived in Endsville for as long as anyone could remember.

She never came outside, and the only way anyone knew her name was when she first moved to the neighborhood, and introduced herself to one child.

Ms. Kathleen D. Block was an extreme introvert.

Today, however, she was expecting a visitor.

Kathleen waltzed through her home, a laundry basket balanced on her head. With her free hands, she poured two mugs of hot apple cider and proceeded downstairs to do the wash. As she was pouring the detergent in, she heard the arrival of her guest.

"I will be up momentarily," she called, "have a mug of cider!" Closing the lid of the washer, Kathleen headed upstairs.

The Grim Reaper stood in her kitchen, smelling of brimstone. Kathleen did the only logical thing and offered him a cookie.

"No, tank you," Death said, and the two sat at Kathleen's kitchen table.

"So," Kathleen said, sipping at her cider, "how have you been?"

"I'm enslaved to two rotten little brats on the other side of town," Grim said bitterly.

"Oh, you poor thing," the lady murmured.

"Why don't we cut to da chase? I need to get back."

"Of course, Grim," Kathleen said. She gulped down a large mouthful of hot apple nectar. A moment of silence lulled between the two immortals, and the lady finally broke it. "Ask me, Grim."

"Are you ready to die yet?" The Grim Reaper asked, in a voice that very well communicated that he felt like this was the billionth time, when it was really only about the thirtieth.

Kathleen thought for a long moment. "No…" she finally said, "I have too much laundry."

The Reaper raised an eye socket. "'Too much laundry?'"

"Yes. Why else would I be here?"

"Of course, Kathleen. What event will it be this time?"

"I've been debating that. It's either Father's favorite or something new. What do you say to a round of Blackjack?" Kathleen suggested. Her companion sighed.

"As you wish," he said, and, with the unholy scream of the underworld resounding through the tear in realities, brought forth a deck of cards. The Reaper shuffled them thoroughly, his bony fingers making a curious tapping noise on the cards. Kathleen distributed a few betting chips.

"My soul," she said, placing one chip into between herself and the Grim Reaper.

"Twenty years immortality," The Reaper said, mimicking her movement. He dealt her two cards face up, and himself up card up, one card down.

Kathleen stared at her cards, a four of Spades and a Queen Clubs of glaring up at her. She was nervous. She felt this every twenty years, of course, when the Reaper came to call, but her nerves were like fire-crackers this time. What if she lost? Prolonging her existence to this extent couldn't have gotten her in a good position with the higher-ups.

And what of her father? What would her think of her, when he heard that his only daughter had secured herself the same fate as he? What would she think of herself? She loved living in a modern world, and she never wanted to give it up!

For the first time in her life, Kathleen was horribly afraid of her own death.

This pre-limbo, waiting for a card, was horrible. Reluctantly gathering her resolve, she took a long, deep breath, aware that it might be her last, spoke.

"Hit me," she said quietly. The Reaper grinned sinisterly, as if he was already slicing her head off of her neck in his mind. The card fell to the table.

A six of Hearts winked at her. "I'll stay," she said.

Kathleen sat back, and slowly, nervously released her breath. The Reaper may have a Blackjack under the upside down card. The card she could see was a King of Diamonds.

With long, elegant, bony fingers, Grim flipped his card up, showing a four of Hearts.

"I'll take a hit," the Reaper said, and slapped a card onto the table confidently.

Kathleen's breath caught. Grim's jaw slackened, as if he was unsure what to make of this.

"Well…" Kathleen sighed, "I suppose, Grim…" The Reaper tore his gaze from the card to look at the woman seated across from him.

"…that I'll see you in twenty years." An eight of Hearts lay on the table.

And hour later, Kathleen stood in her living room, laughing at a story about Grim's owners that the Reaper had told her.

"Do contact me if you're freed in the next few years," she said.

"Of course, Kathleen. If you're good, I might invite you to da Underworld party."

"I'd like that. If you do come visiting, though, no bargaining for my soul. That's a special, once-every-twenty-years thing."

"Right. I suppose I need to get back to da brats. I'll see you sometime, Kathleen." The Reaper tore open a portal in mid-air.

Before he could enter it, Kathleen quickly pressed her lips against his skull.

"Come and see me soon," she said softly, and stood back as her visitor left.

If his face hadn't of been made of bone, Kathleen could've swore he'd blushed.

The dryer downstairs buzzed, and Kathleen went on about her business.

That's it! Three stories down, seven to go!

Please review!


Post Scriptum: I used some references to The Seventh Seal. To my knowledge, the knight (who plays chess with Death)'s last name is Block. That is why Kali's last name did not begin with a "D." I tried to make up for it by putting it as her middle intial; I hope it worked.

The idea is that Kathleen is that knight's daughter, and that she herself challenged and beat the Grim Reaper, so that he shows up every twenty years to attempt to claim her soul.

That's that! Just a little romance-like story!

Until next time: this is Semine, signing off!