[Enter Death and Susan]
Death: So, as I was saying, you can't just discriminate against me like that, man. Like, sure, I forgot where your hearts are located, but that was an honest mistake. You can't just assume that I'll remember such stuff. And you don't even need hearts down here.
Susan: Aren't you a half mythological being that transcends time sir?
Death: Don't be so naive. You can't just trust everything you hear. I'm 100% mythological, baby.
[Death fades out of existence momentarily]
Death: I was joking! Cease your disbelief this instant. Anyways, I never said that I was perfect or something. I mean, sure, I am pretty close to perfect. Just look at my K/D ratio.
Susan: Well, sir, you are Death, so wouldn't the "d" be infinity?
Death: My d is infi-I mean er, no, of course not. I'm Death, so by definition, I can't die.
Susan: Apart from being killed by cardboard lightning bolts, evidently.
Death: That was a lapse in concentration. I was only at 1% of my full power.
Susan: So at your full power, you'll be killed by a plastic lightning bolt instead.
Death: Wow. That's just. Wow.
Susan: So, sir, now that your official audit of the zoo is over, what are you going to do now?
Death: Let us visit the people.
Susan: The people?
Death: Look, do you want me to be more clear?
[A podium materialises in front of Death. He begins to gesture wildly, using an ok hand at every opportunity]
Death: The people of this land, who have been so harshly abused by the Host, the people who have toiled for so long, seeking eternal life. The blue collar workers, the white collar workers, the green collar workers, the red collar workers, the infrared collar workers, the radio wave collar workers, they who have been abandoned, let down by the Host's administration. Let it be known that I am one of them, one more individual forgotten by the Godless-
Susan: Isn't the Host God?
Death: -Godless Communists and-hold on, what?
Susan: Isn't the Host God, sir?
Death: Yes, well. Shut up. Now, where was I? Ah yes. For too long, have we been neglected, tossed aside by those in power. But today, I say no more. We will build more schools, we will build more hospitals, we will build a shining path to the future! And we will use to hospitals to help the people who have been blinded by said shining path, but never mind that. We will march to the Host's multi million dollar complex, and tear down his cloudy gates! And then we shall sing "Jerusalem", and it'll be really ironic.
Susan: Aren't you in charge here, sir?
Death: I am a victim! But, I have carried on for far too long. Let us meet some people.
[exit Death and Susan, enter Host]
Host: Jokes on you Death, I don't own a multi million dollar complex, I own a multi billion dollar complex.
[exit Host, enter Death and Susan]
Death: Ah, yes, the fine town of Yfuywggdsfgdhjf. Christ, did the Welsh name this place?
Susan: I think it was the Greenlanders, sir.
Death: Never mind that. Let's go meet the people of this...fine place.
[Enter a young man]
Death: You there, young man!
Young Man: Oh no, not this again.
[The Young Man begins to walk away]
Death: No, no, hold up. I'm not here to collect you. The trees aren't speaking Vietnamese
Young Man: Excuse me?
Death: Wait, shit, wrong time. Er, the inanimate objects aren't speaking some language that triggers a psychological disorder known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Young Man: What, the cars aren't speaking "beep beep"?
Death: No, more like the cars are-Wait, you know what a car is? Why the hell are you here, in this Hellish backwards place?
Young Man: Dude, have you been around Hell? Aren't you Death? Most people have cars these days.
Death: Ah, that explains the grey skies.
Young Man: What? No no, we're not using fossil fuels. Where would we even get them from?
Death: I dunno, you dragged a dead whale down here, and you put it under a tonne of pressure?
Young Man: Just stop.
Death: Fine, fine. But still, why are you here?
Young Man: I got bored.
Young Man: What do you mean "and?"
Death: What do you mean "what do you mean?"
Young Man: I got bored. That's literally it. I got bored of the constant day in, day out grind. You know, show up to work, get yelled at for not filing yet another set of plankton deaths, spend half the time surfing DeathTube, go home, get yelled at by my relatives for having such a shit job when Jim next door counts dying pigeons...you know, it's just so...ungratifying.
Young Man: So, I got sick of it all, and now, I'm just wandering.
Death: And the people accept you?
Young Man: Hell no. You have no idea how many people have isolated themselves from 'society' here. They're pretty insular.
Death: I mean, I don't know. I've been trying to avoid you all for the past thousand years, and trust me, I regret coming back.
Young Man: At least I'm not the only wanderer. There's a tonne of us out here, just drifting. And we can't die, we don't have any needs, so, it's just that. Become lost to the world in which we used to waste so much time, and all that.
Death: So, what do you do nowadays, apart from mindless wandering?
Young Man: I write.
Death: Lemme guess: fanfics.
Young Man: No, of course not, I would never, I would never, er yeah, I would never stoop to such lows.
Death: So you write fanfics.
Young Man: Ah, no?
Death: God damnit another one of them. You know, everytime someone shows me a fanfic, or some really 'personal' and 'deep' piece of work with '100% realistic self-inserts', I have to take a tonne of LSD. Just to get through it.
Young Man: That's er...nice?
Death: Yeah. Everytime man. I basically have to take LSD to make it bearable. But hey, at least there isn't one based on Death wandering the world in search of shitposts. If that did exist, well...Then I'd have to resort to cocaine.
To be fair, it takes a very high iq to understand abiogenisis. The nihilistic themes are often lost upon readers, and the author can go suck a dick.
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