Disclaimer: I don't own harry or richard.
A/N: If you have been following the story you will notice that I have changed the name. The old one made no sense and I hated it. So I've changed it (for the better I hope).
A Deathly Interlude
Death was sitting on a beach in Tahiti talking to a seashell. Literally,
When the the Bud of Life was plucked from the Garden by a well meaning teenager with a crush on Sandy Perkins, Death was happy. The teenager was happy too, but for totally different reasons.
Following "The Plucking" were years of death and chaos. It was lovely. Then it was over, and Death thought to itself: You know, I really needed a vacation. Eternal blubbering can get tiresome.
And so it was Death went on vacation. It visited all the greatest battle sites, reminiscing on a job well done. Death also visited Atlantis. Oh, yeah. That was a great party. I really can't hold my Spirits.
The more Death reveled in It's glory days, the more it grew bored. Until one day he was talking to a seashell.
"I fucking loathe Sandy bloody Perkins! What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Shelly?"
"..."
"Well fuck you too! Who the hell needs you! Do you know who I am?!" Death screamed.
"..."
"I hate you, Shelly" grumbled Death.
A shiver ran through Death. What's this? Master has killed? How could that be?
Death instantly shadowed to appear at it's Master's side and nearly cackled with glee. Oh, Master! I knew you were chosen for a reason. A whole new universe of souls and death just for me!
Death watched as his Master began his mating ritual over the sounds of tearing flesh. It appraised The Masters of Death's chosen mate. Hmm...this one has much potential.
A/N:
A cracky interlude. Happy New Years! I'm off to break some resolutions.