Eugene Watershed had a big mouth, and people always said it would get him into trouble one day. As it turned out, it was not his big mouth that killed him, but the lack of teeth contained (or rather, not contained) within. Chewing your food is essential to the digestive process and is helpful in finding all the bones before they get stuck halfway down your throat.
WOULD YOU LIKE A HAND? Death extended his skeletal fingers to help the man up.
"Ah, yes, thank you. I thought I'd crunched on something hard back there."
INDEED?
"Always said Lottie's cooking would be the death of me I did. All them vegetables you know, tryin' to feed me rabbit food."
IF IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE Death interrupted, I WOULD BE MOST APPRECIATIVE IF YOU COULD FILL THIS OUT FOR ME. Eugene took the card Death was holding.
YOU ARE NOW LEAVING THE MORTAL PLANE.
Please rate and comment on your transition below and have a nice afterlife!
1. Was the transition satisfactory?
2. Would you use our service again in the next life?
3. Was the timing correct? (for witches/wizards only)
"What's all this then?" Eugene didn't know much about what came after dieing, but he was fairly certain this had never been mentioned. "Is this that test thing you have to pass to get the good ending?"
THIS IS MERELY A FORMALITY. PAPERWORK. OUR, AH, INTERNAL BUREAUCRACY IS UNDERGOING SOME CHANGES AT THIS JUNCTURE IN TIME. I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND.
"Oh yeah. My son, Irving you know, wonderful boy, pencil pusher up at the palace. Comes home to his Mille every night with armfuls of nothing but paper. Important stuff bureaucracy. Gotta take care of all the little things, then all the big things will take care of themselves."
Eugene nodded definitively. He was proud of his Irving, even if he hadn't taken over the family business. But blacksmithing just wasn't a suitable job for a man born to do office work, especially when your name was Irving. Thankfully, his second child Hilda was apt for the job by the time he became too old to lift anything heavier than a chicken leg.
MY JOB HAS NEVER REQUIRED SUCH DETAILED OVERVIEW. I HAVE ALWAYS BELIEVED MYSELF TO BE QUITE GOOD AT IT.
"Oh. I don't doubt that. You must have been doing it a long time."
I HAVE NEVER NOT DONE MY DUTY.
"Well," Eugene was starting to feel fuzz. "If there was a scale, I'd give you a five star rating Sir."
THANK YOU. BUT OUT OF HOW MANY?
"Oh, I don't know. Whatever scale restaurant critics use I suppose."
OF COURSE. GOODBYE MR. WATERSHED. Death grabbed the comment card from the air as the remaining substance that had been Eugene Watershed dissipated.
One said, He is too good at his job.
One said, Timing – impeccable! Transition – painless! Not a single negative point!
One said, He has been doing this a long time.
One said, It's more trouble than it's worth. We cannot accomplish anything this way.
One said, The scale was a nice touch though.
I love Death, but I feel like I do too many oneshots for him :/
- SilverInkblot