Pity the Reaper

The past few hundred years have flown by, it seems like it was only yesterday that I started this job, it’s been bloody hard work but in a funny sort of way I think that I’ve enjoyed it. Obviously there have been things that I’ve absolutely hated, but mostly, it’s been pretty satisfying, so I guess that I’m quite lucky, after all, jobs like this don’t come along every day do they? and when you have an eternity to get through it’s probably best to keep busy. Did I need much training? I hear you ask, funnily enough the answer is none whatsoever, it appears that I’m a natural, my predecessor said that I was born for it, and do you know, I think he was bloody well right. Things have changed a lot since his time, there’s no more of this slave labour like in the old days in fact despite the long hours and travelling it is now quite a well respected job, with, I might add, quite a number of perks. What’s that? How did I get such a plum position? It’s funny, it just sort of dropped in my lap, so to speak.

The whole thing started way back in the nineties, I was in my garden on a Sunday morning collecting some veg for lunch when out of a clear blue sky this bloke fell on top of me, well I started letting him have what for, told him how he could have killed me, especially as he was carrying a bloody great scythe, told him he should watch where he’s going and what the bleeding hell was he doing falling into my garden anyway? The poor old fellah just sat there, head bowed, hood covering his face and he started crying

“I can’t do this anymore, I’m too tired, let me die”.

He continued sobbing for some time, when he eventually stopped I asked him what the problem was, well you could have knocked me down with a dog turd, this bloke throws back his hood, and I’m not exaggerating he was like a skeleton, “look at me” he said, “ I haven’t eaten for God knows how long and I’m still falling behind with my quota”

Anyway it turns out his name is Azrael and he’s the Angel of death, well I tells him to stop fretting and to come indoors with me. Seeing as though he was so skinny we gives him a proper English roast dinner with all the trimmings, Yorkshire pudding, the works and with spotted dick and custard for afters too. When we’d eaten he explained how they had been getting rid of Grim Reapers due to budget cuts, quite a few were made redundant and those that were left were having to do extra shifts to keep the whole system flowing, with such a heavy workload this poor blighter didn’t even have time to eat, no wonder he was like a bag of bones. Being a union man I was absolutely incensed, I talked him into showing me the ropes and made him promise to stay put while I sorted it all out. Then, I gets myself up to Heaven and started getting things organised. First thing to do was to contact all the other Reapers, it took some time but I got them all together and after a few arguments we formed the very first Reapers union ever. I contacted the management to set up negotiations, but they were having none of it, so we then made Heaven history by striking for the first the very first time. There was uproar amongst the angels, with no new souls they had nothing to do. Well! The strike went on for some time and the discussions were going nowhere, it was stalemate, then one day out of the blue, the big “G” popped in, we had some full and frank discussions I can tell you, in the end though we came to a solution, the Reaper recruitment programme resumed which eased the burden on my members, everyone had fixed hours, lunch breaks and even holidays, but, sadly wages were a long way off. All of this took quite some time, several years in fact, I’d lost track of time, up here what seems like an hour can be a lifetime down on Earth.

Soon everything was running pretty smoothly, we’d got the population down quite a bit, thanks to the odd plague or two, but still nowhere near what it should be.

It got to a stage where we were pretty much on top of things, it was holiday season so I was out on the road one day helping to clear the backlog when a name I recognised was at the top of my list. I’d been so wrapped up in getting things organised that I hadn’t noticed the time slip by, it was my Wife’s name, the docket showed that she was eighty nine, yet when I left she was just thirty two.

Needless to say I found her quite easily, she was still living in what was our house, we chatted for a long time about everything and nothing, she said that she’d waited for over ten years before she married again. And you’ve probably guessed, she married the reaper, who was looking surprisingly well, he’d put on a fair bit of weight thanks to her brilliant cooking, and he’d changed his name to Colin. He didn’t look a day over fifty either, I suppose that’s the immortality thing for you. Any way that’s how it all happened, and now I’ve got the wife with me up here in Heaven things are absobloominlutely perfect. Anyway I’ve got to go now, we need some veg for lunch, well! it is Sunday, innit?

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