THE VISITORS

 The half-full can of beer dropped from its resting-place on Jim’s bulging stomach as he flinched, it slammed onto the floor and the amber contents drained over the dirty beige carpet.
 “Jesus Christ! Who the fuck are you?” He blurted.
 A tall black-hooded figure had silently walked through the living room door and now stood before the reclined Jim Darning, his view of the television blocked by the deep folds of the black cloak. Jim blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. The gangly figure remained in front of him.
“Shit. I think I've had one too many beers. But I can’t be pissed already!”
 He took no notice of the spreading puddle of spilt beer on the carpet; his attention was riveted on the figure disturbing a Sunday afternoon of drinking beer and watching the football game.
 Jim stared in disbelief and croaked “Who are you? What are you doin’ in my house?”
The black-cloaked figure bowed and in a lilting voice spoke, “I usually don’t introduce myself to the living. My name is Reaper, Grim Reaper. Pleased to meet you”.
“This has to be a sick joke!”
Jim viciously rattled his head from side-to-side and looked directly into the darkness under Reaper’s hood then cautiously reached out to shake the proffered skeletal hand.
“This is nuts,” Jim muttered.
“I wondered if it would be possible to watch this afternoon’s football game with you.”
“WHAT?” Jim coughed explosively and his eyes bulged. “YOU JUST CAME TO WATCH TV?”
Grim nodded in response.
Jim coughed again and shook his head, “Aww shit... why not.” Jim airily waved a hand, “make yourself comfortable. You wanna beer?”
“Yes please, that would be excellent.”
Grim rested his scythe against a wall then sat down on the sofa, leant back, and crossed his legs. He took the offered beer from Jim and opened the can with bony fingers.
 After guzzling the contents of his beer can, Jim smacked his lips then burped aloud. He savoured the feeling which caused his mind to swim, and the football match he waited for would not start for another fifteen minutes. Jim glanced over at the stretched out Grim.
“Just gotta go to the kitchen. Looks like you’re empty. Want another beer?”
Reaper nodded his hooded head, “yes please.”
Jim stood, scratched his nose, burped again, and looked down at a reclined Death.
“You’re so bloody polite. Are you usually this nice?”
Grim shrugged bony shoulders then rubbed the back of his skull.
“Well, normally I just visit people to… oh, I think your wife is home.”
 A car slowly crunched along the gravel driveway and halted. Jim quickly surveyed the wet puddle of beer on the carpet.
“SHIT! If she sees this I’m dead!” He turned to Grim, “haven’t you got magical powers or somethin’ to make this vanish?”
“No that’s someone else. However with me sitting here I can pretty much guarantee that spilt beer will be the least of her concerns don't you think?”
“Oh yeah." Jim giggled, "I didn’t think of that. Hee, hee, that’ll scare the bitch... I’ll be back in a sec.”
 Jim disappeared into the kitchen, and returned to the livingroom with a fresh six-pack of beer. He lowered his portly frame into his favourite well-worn armchair just as his wife opened the front door. Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head as his wife slammed the door and heard the jingling of keys then her voice as she walked up the hallway adjacent to the livingroom.
 “Let me guess James, you’re watching the…” Janine screamed then fainted at the sight of the black cloaked figure comfortably seated on the sofa.
Grim pointed at Janine’s collapsed body and looked over at Jim.
“Dammit I hate that! Every time someone sees me that is their exact reaction. Why can’t people just stop doing that, especially when I am off duty? All I want to do is to relax.”
“Dunno Grim, maybe they can’t tell. I shit myself when you came in here. If it wasn’t a Sunday arvo I just might have keeled over. Umm, Janine is still alive though isn’t she?”
“Oh yes. I’m not due to give her a death visit for quite some time yet; she will be alright soon.”
“Good. Drinking my beer is one thing, but to drink my beer AND kill my wife just ain’t right. Anyway, what are you really doing around this way?”
Grim took a swig from his beer and let rip with a death burp, “Whoops! Pardon me. A friend and I have to go and visit your next door neighbour, but I wanted to catch the football match first.”
“You actually have friends? I wouldn't have thought that the Grim Reaper had friends. Anyway, which neighbour? The old skanky bitch?”
Reaper nodded, “Yes I have friends, and yes I guess you could say that your next door neighbour is old and skanky.”
Jim smirked. “Hah! Top stuff! That stupid old cow gives me the shits. Hey, can I come and watch when you go over later?”
Grim shrugged, “Yes, I don’t see why not.”
 An expression of realisation came over Jim’s face, “I was just thinking, when are you coming to get me? Not for a while yet I hope.”
“Let me think, um… Darning, James…” Grim uncrossed then recrossed his legs and rapidly shook his head, “no, you have a couple of decades to go.” He then brought a skeletal hand to his ear, “you have another visitor.”
Jim was about to question Reaper’s statement when the doorbell chimed, and he instantly followed habit.
“JANINE! SOMEONE AT THE DOOR!”
“She fainted in the hall Jim, and she is still unconscious.”
“Ah shit. I forgot.”
 Jim eased himself out of the chair and made his way to the front door, then swung it open. Standing on the concrete porch was a clean-shaven man dressed in a business suit, the man’s neatly cut hair was greying at the temples.
What's this guy here to sell? Jim instantly thought.
The man’s pure white teeth shone, “hello there Jim. Mind if I come in?”
“Huh? Who are you asshole?”
The man pointed a finger at the wire-screen door and it unlocked then squealed open. Jim’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
“Wha…?”
The man put his hands into his pockets and grinned.
“Pleased to meet you, won't you guess my name? I’ve come to watch the game with Grim and yourself.”
“And let me guess, your a man of wealth and taste? Who’s over next then Lucifer, God?” Jim retorted.
The Devil laughed, “no, no, no. God’s at church.”
“Well how am I supposed to know you’re really who you say you are?”
The Devil smirked then waved his hand at the house on the opposite side of the road. Jim gaped as the front windows shattered and the curtains caught alight. With another gesture, the flames vanished leaving the windows of the house as smashed and charred holes in the front façade.
“Shee-it! Hey, can you make spilt beer on the carpet disappear?”
Satan nodded enthusiastically.
“Alright then, come in. But you have to vanish the beer puddle first.”
“THE GAME IS STARTING!” Grim yelled out.
 Jim moved aside to allow Satan through the doorway then rapidly closed both doors and dashed into the livingroom. He moved to his chair and sat down, then waved to the Devil.
“Sit down and make yourself comfy. You wanna beer?”
Satan nodded politely, “that would be good thank you”.
Jim handed a cold can to Grim, who passed it to the Devil. Satan opened the can, took a deep swallow, then leant back on the plush sofa.
“Ahhh. There’s none of this good beer in hell. I’m going to have to send some down.”
 Jim frowned and pointed at the floor, “hey I think you have something to do mister Devil.”
“Oh sorry, I forgot. This tasty beverage took away my concentration,” Satan then waved a hand in front of him and the puddle of spilt beer vanished; it looked as though nothing had been dropped on the beige carpet. Jim smiled in appreciation and tilted his can towards the seated Devil.
“Thanks buddy, the bitch won’t kick my ass now.”
“No problem Jim”.
“Shhh! Can you two be quiet please? I’m trying to watch TV”, Grim uttered.
“Ooh, so-orry,” the Devil shot back sarcastically.
“Go to hell.” Grim said unthinkingly.
Satan stared at Grim,
"Derr, that's where I live dickhead."
Jim and Satan then settled back to watch the game.
 Janine began to stir from unconsciousness, she raised herself on her hands then groaned and surveyed the floor under her. She could hear the television blaring with Jim shouting the occasional curse.
“What on earth happened?” She put a hand to her forehead, then she remembered; the Grim Reaper was sitting in her livingroom when she came in. Janine violently shook her head and mumbled, “why is the friggin’ Grim Reaper in my livingroom? What has my jerk of a husband done this time? The police being here would be okay I suppose, but not the Goddamned Grim Reaper!”
She unsteadily got to her feet, picked her handbag up off the floor, and dusted herself off. She took two steps forward then stood in the doorway to the livingroom and glared at Jim. Satan gave Jim a dark eyed “you are in deep trouble now buddy” look, and Jim just shrugged.
“James Darning, what is the Grim Reaper doing in the…” Janine glanced at Satan, “who the hell are you?”
The Devil sniggered, and Jim spoke up, “don’t worry love, it’s just Mister Lucifer. He’s here to watch the footy game.”
"No, that's Saint Lucifer", Satan corrected.
“What? Satan?”
Satan smiled and waved. Janine’s eyes grew as wide as dinner plates and she held on to the doorframe to steady herself. She looked from Jim, to Grim, then to the smiling Devil and slowly shook her head in disbelief.
“Good Lord I must be hallucinating, I have to be,” she murmured. “I think I’ll take a Valium and have a good long sleep.” She stumbled along the hall and disappeared into the bathroom at the rear of the house.
 The half-time entertainment came on and Jim stretched his arms then yawned. He studied Death and Evil reclined on the sofa.
“Would it be possible to have another beer Jim?” Satan enquired.
“Yeah, no worries. Grim, you want another?”
Death nodded groggily and Jim passed a cold beer across to Grim and the Devil. Jim popped a fresh can open and turned to face Grim.
“You know, this is really really weird. Listen, I’ve always been curious with this, what’s the story with that big fucker of a machete thingy?”
Grim looked across at the wooden handled scythe leaning against the wall, “my scythe? Oh it’s not actually used for what it was designed. I only have it to scare the life out of people. And I must say it does an excellent job of doing that.”
“Oh, okay, and what about you Satan, I would’ve thought that surely you would have TV in hell.”
The Devil took a swig of his beer and levelled his gaze at Jim, “Ha, I wish! The problem is that the accursed televisions can’t withstand the fires of hell. So I have to venture up here to watch the telly.”
“Man, that’s gotta suck!”
“I have no TV either,” Reaper interjected, then he and Satan burped in unison.
“Hooh haah!” Jim cheered, “I’ll give you ten out of ten for that one… Whoa does it stink! Hang on, check this one out.”
Jim let go with a thunderous belch, then the mildly intoxicated Grim held his hand up, waited for silence, and burped even louder. His grinning face/skull turned to Jim, then to Satan. “How was that one?”
“Phhtt. I’m the Prince of Darkness, I can do better.” With that said, the Devil arched his neck and the giant belch he emitted rattled the windows and left a ringing in Jim’s ears.
“Shit! Satan wins that contest!”
Satan pointed at Grim, “I win! Nyah nyah nyah!”
“Bite me you dumb Devil.” Grim folded his arms across his chest and looked at the television. If he had lips, he would have pouted.
 Jim pointed at the television screen, “hey Satan, do you reckon that you could use your evil powers so that my side wins?”
Satan then grinned menacingly. “Only if you sell me your soul.”
Jim blinked and scratched his ear, “umm…fuck that. What about ten bucks instead?”
Satan thought for a moment then shrugged and nodded, “Yeah, okay”.
 Satan eyed the ashtray half-full of twisted cigarette butts on the low coffee table before him. He looked over at Jim.
“Do you mind if I have a cigarette?” Satan queried.
Jim hesitated then took his eyes away from the television screen and stared.
“I don’t believe it, Satan is a smoker?”
The Devil briefly glanced at Grim then shrugged and grinned.
“This isn’t my body, so while I’m possessing it, does it matter if I abuse it?”
"S'pose not. I thought you were meant to be red and have a tail and a pitch fork doo-dad."
"No, no, that is my work uniform and it's getting dry-cleaned. So I used the body of some fool I saw wandering through the park."
Jim nodded thoughtfully then returned his attention to the television and waved, “Well go ahead, light up”.
Grim turned his head to look at Jim with eyeless sockets as the final whistle signaled the end of the football match and the victory of the team Jim barracked for. Jim triumphantly punched the air with a clenched fist and whooped.
“I owe you ten bucks Satan. Good job pal.”
“No worries Jim.”
Jim noticed Grim’s stupidly grinning skull/face, “what’s up Grim?”
“I jush wanted to t-tell you,” Grim pointed at the can he held in his skeletal hand, “thish a damn good beer.”
“You're pissed aren't you?”
Jim looked across at Satan and laughed.
“He’s pissed! Ha ha ha. Grim is drunk already, what a wanker!”
“A true Sam-two-can,” the Devil grinned.
“Hey Grim?”
“Y-Yesh Jim?”
“Your blood alcohol concentration is now too high for you to do any of that spooky shit isn’t it?”
Grim started nodding then shook his head, “nah, I’m OK.” He then turned to look at Satan, “r’member when we got that bloke lasht week? We-We can do it to the woman nexsht door.”
The Devil nodded, stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, then stood, “sounds like a good idea there Reaper. But make sure this time that while I have them at the front door, sneak up behind them silently and don’t knock anything over. Being drunk is no excuse. Even a paraletic spook can do a proper job.”
Grim vigorously nodded then glanced at Jim, “you comin’ to watch?”
“Shit yeah! I wanna see you guys nail that old cow!”
  Satan clenched his hands in front of him and swiftly bowed to Jim, “thank you very much for your hospitality. I will have to come over more often.”
Grim shakily got to his feet and turned to Jim. “I, I-I agree with Shatan one hundred pershent, and I thank you too. You are a top bloke Jim.”
          Sixty year old Elsie Wikkett painfully raised herself from the comfortable chair positioned before an old black-and-white television, and made her way to answer the front door. She opened the heavy wooden door and gazed upon a middle-aged man, neatly dressed in a suit and with trimmed greying hair. Elsie frowned and was greeted with a dazzling smile.
“Good afternoon ma’am, I had my dog, a white terrier, disappear yesterday, and I was wondering if you had seen him in the neighbourhood?”
 Elsie’s frown changed into something which approached a smile, she expected that it would be another pesky person trying to sell her something, or one of those religious nuts who had been pestering her for the last few weeks.
“Well, there’s a strange man who lives next door. He is a nasty man, and I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with the disappearance of your poor dog.”
Satan shook his head, “I have just come from there. He says he hasn’t seen anything.”
“Well you never know with that odd man..."
A vase in the hallway behind Elsie smashed on the floor, she spun around and Satan rolled his eyes then sighed.
“Ah shit, not again.”
Shaking his head, Satan then looked over at Jim, "this is a classic example of why that dumb-ass Grim really needed the sobriety test."

NOT THE END