Grim Reaper

"Let me get this straight. You're the Grim Reaper and you're here to harvest my soul?"

"Correct."

"But... but... I have a wife and kids."

"No you don't."

"How would you know?"

"I'm the Grim Reaper. Death Incarnate. It's my business to know these things."

"What about all my friends? They'll be devastated."

"Please. Let's try to be serious."

"What about Mom?"

"You have to scythe the apron strings sometime."

"That was horrible! Who writes your material anyway? That's the guy you should be after!"

"Ha! Irony! I love it!"

"Speaking of irony, you know I'm currently working on a dialogue for a contest. Death comes to claim me and then I have to talk my way out of it..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I made up that contest."

"You did?"

"I told you I love irony. Delicious, isn't it?"

"You mean..."

"That's right. I'm W. D. Wilcox. Reaping is just my day job. And before you ask, no, the 'D' doesn't stand for 'Death'. That would just be too much."

"So, you harvest souls for a living and write stories and administer contests online for fun?"

"Pretty much. I also bowl in a league on wednesdays. Reaping isn't all fun and games you know. The travel is brutal for one thing. Mostly visits to the huddled masses, slums, war zones... not exactly the five star locales you understand."

"Sorry. I was planning to clean the place up a little."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself. Just don't start whining, ok? I hate that."

"Would it make a difference? I mean, if I begged for my life?"

"Not the least bit. I try to keep these visits professional, but I so seldom get the courtesy returned. You can imagine the wailing and pleading I have to put up with."

"I see. Well, I had hoped to finish my novel..."

"Please. If I waited for every aspiring novelist to complete his 'great work' the afterlife would be empty. Please. Don't even go there."

"Can I at least wrap up this dialogue?"

"Ok, sure. Hurry up though. Give me some good lines and maybe I'll even let you win the contest. Make me sound menacing, ok?"

"Menacing? I'm afraid your appearance has me a little off my game, but I'll do my best."

"Write, you miserable worm! Write or I'll... Stop! My god, that's terrible! I asked for menacing, not tedious."

"Sorry. I'm just doing this for practice you know."

"Practice? My God! You're hopeless! Look, I hate to reap and run, but..."

"Wait! I've got this great line of dialogue I've always wanted to use. Let me just add that and then... ack... argh!"

"Sorry. It won't be the first time I've been accused of being inflexible, but this is my contest. I make the rules and the five hundred word limit is strictly enforced."