by Maria Protopapadaki-Smith
The band were leaving the stage to loud applause from the crowd as Death walked unseen into the venue. He checked his diary: 11:03pm, Tony Evans, goatee beard, tattoos on forearms, black leather trousers and a Motorhead t-shirt. Death sighed; locating his latest charge in this crowd could take some time and it was already 11:02:49. Then he spotted a commotion near the bar: a body lay on the floor and two men were trying to resuscitate it while a third ran to get help. A soul hovered over the body, looking confused. Death berated himself for not being there in time to greet it. He rushed to the soul, knowing he'd never hear the end of it from the Big Man if he got there after the paramedics.
"Mr Evans, how do you do? You are to come with me", he said to the soul.
"Oh come on! Now? Couldn't you have waited till after the Encore?" exclaimed Tony Evans.
"I'm afraid I am not the one who devises the schedule, Mr Evans, I merely see to its timely execution. Now please, come this way".
"But they haven't played Ace of Spades yet".
"They haven't?" said Death, trying to conceal his excitement.
"No. Nor Killed By Death", Tony Evans added slyly, sensing weakness.
"Oh. Oh well, in that case, perhaps we can stay a little longer".
The band stormed back onto the stage and the crowd cheered as the familiar riff hit the air, and Death remembered what it was like to have a pulse.
Not All The Time
3 weeks ago