The Journal of Morte

Prologue

The sight was nowhere near as tragic as he had hoped, I am sure. His arms were spread out as if he had wanted to fly away and his mouth was wide open with his tongue sticking off to the side. It was comical, if not for the massive river of blood which flowed from below his huge man-tit. But no one really expected death to look so funny. I sure didn't. Yet, even after unfathomable years, I cannot help smiling at the immense absurdity of it all.

My name is Death. Every single second of every single day on this forsaken land known as Earth, I am faced with absurdity of vast proportions. The silly, the sick, the insane and the just plain ridiculous. I come face to face with all manner of creature. My pitiful job- and trust me, this job has no perks- is to escort said creature to the next chapter of their journey. I feel no remorse. Why should I? I don't kill. After milennia of being a dark presence amongst humankind, I have killed none. I don't think I could ever bring myself to even consider thinking of the senseless acts of violence that humans inflict on each other everyday. Imagination is not exactly my thing, truth be told.

Here I am once again at the site of another absurdty. This young man I am staring at now is certainly dead. Yet I have a problem.

I cannot find him.

Now, this is most frustrating. Don't get me wrong, this is not the first time. Ever wonder why some houses are haunted? Well, basically, some souls escape their bodies much earlier than they should, which totally throws my timing off. So they end up as ghosts. Fuck them, I say. They deserve their fate, impatient bastards that they are. But this case is certainly very special. The King of Heaven, the Almighty Big Cheese himself, has asked me to escort this fool to Him. Now he's gone. Time to put on the imaginary thinking cap and seek this kid out. Shouldn't be too hard. Souls don't normally travel too far from their death scene.

Until I find the kid though, I should fill you in on what has been going on. It's not a long story, which hopefully corresponds with a not-so-long search for the pipsqueak. But listen to what I have to say, because the story is quite complicated...

Death's Log 1- Ugly Ain't The Word

This story starts in a small village known as Raiz, which, in my mind, is situated between East and West Bumfuck. Completely out of the way for a busybody like myself. Yet, the spirits called me to this place to witness a magnificent event that has only happened once before in the annals of this world's history. It was the birth of a Demon Child.

Now, I know most of you parents out there are thinking the same thing- demon children are born everyday. Hell, look at my sister's kids! But fortunately they are just poorly raised spoiled brats, not full-on Hellspawn like the child I was watching being birthed in Raiz. I had heard through the grapevine that a demon had once again taken to sleeping with a mortal woman who lived in this small town and the bimbo went and had a child from him. Now, male demons normally hate female humans, if only for the sole fact that they are not as naughty as female demons. Female humans sometimes have hangups that female demons do not. There is an old saying in hell that I would rather not repeat, but the insinuation is that anal sex is something female demons REALLY like to do. (The stuff you pick up on while living for thousands of years... Sad, really.)

So, this obviously desperate demon boinked this apparently anal-sex loving human and- BAM- we have a Demon Child. A better love story could not have been thought of. Anyways, this woman was just about to give birth when a Wind Spirit from Outer Mongolia (I was enjoying a well-deserved vacation after a four-hundred year war had just ended) told me that a Demon Child was to be born in the world. Now, usually, most people get all up in arms about the situation. Heaven and Hell start playing a game of cat-and-mouse to see which one will get the first shot at this baby, whether they want to kill or coddle, basically. For me, as the personification of Death, I am only there to witness his first killing. The previous Demon Child had killed his mother upon birth by slashing her from stomach to groin on the way out with its claws and I will never forget the look of his mother's face of complete shock. Even then it struck me- she had slept with a demon! What the hell did she expect?!

Luckily for this second Demon Child's mother, the child came out relatively painless. He was an ugly child, though. I mean, real ugly. The stuff that midwive's nightmares are made of. This child's head was big enough to give the impression he had two bodies, a feature I noticed he inherited from his mother. His hazel eyes were attentive to his surroundings, but one of them was obviously going to be quite lazy. His nose was smashed against his face as if someone had punched him before he got out. Like I said, just ugly. But the mom was happy and the midwives, although secretly cringing behind her back, were pleased that the pregnancy had gone okay. Of course, this scene of calm was soon to be interrupted.

"Lady Meer, what are you going to name your son?" asked the youngest midwife.

The Lady Meer, the mother of the Demon Child, looked down at her ugly baby and contemplated the many names I am sure she had thought of throughout those long nine months.

"Well, I had a few choices in mind," she said. "But I think I am going to call him Morte."

Now, the audacity of the bimbo to name her son after me! I was outraged and I let her know I was by picking up a shoe near me and hurling it at her rather large forehead. Luckily, I am invisible to all those living, so the midwives just blamed each other, while Lady Meer just held her forehead and yelped in pain, while the ugly baby cried. I had to laugh. Now, I am not above messing with humans every now and then, but occassionally my bosses get a little peeved if I get too involved. I had visions of one of my bosses cussing me out, when the door slammed open and in stepped a rather fruity-looking young man that had a swishing walk that made the midwives look rather butch. He pranced towards Lady Meer and stopped. His smile was radiant.

"Congratulations, Lady Meer!" he said. "Your child-"

He looked at the baby and stopped. His smile faded just a bit, but returned quickly to its original grandeur.

"Your child is beautiful," he lied. "What is his name, if I might ask?"

"He is called Morte, Sir Norrin" she answered.

She was looking down upon her hideous spawn and baby-talking him into shutting up, as he was still screaming like a banshee from the fright of the shoe incident. Sir Norrin looked at the midwives and, with one gesture of his finely-scultped eyebrows, they left the room. His smile beamed radiant as ever as he looked at Lady Meer.

"This child is very special, my lady," he said. "Something tells me he is much more special than just any other..."

Lady Meer looked up at Sir Norrin as if seeing him for the first time. She studied his face and then looked at his clothes, then back at his face.

"Why do you say that, Norrin?" she asked.

"Just a hunch, my lady," he said. "Nothing more."

Lady Meer covered her now-calming baby in the blanket left by the youngest midwife. She looked at Sir Norrin and smiled, a tad less brilliant that his, but the effort was there.

"Sir Norrin, I have a question for you," she said. "Would you like to hold the baby?"

Norrin looked taken aback. He stuttered a few times, then stood there with his mouth wide-open, not really sure what to say.

"Madam, um... I can't," he mumbled.

"And why not, Sir Norrin?"

The young man looked at her, his smile fading. His eyes were scanning her face, apparently looking for an appropriate answer.

"Well, madam..." he started. "I get a little nervous holding newborns. That's all."

"Oh it is nothing, Norrin!" she said. She started to hand the baby to him. "He is just a baby, very harmless really. Take him."

"I said no, Lady," he said, backing up slowly.

"Take him!" she yelled.

"Get your Demon Child away from me!" he yelled suddenly, his eyes bugged beyond recognition.

"Aha!"

Lady Meer slowly got off the bed, never losing sight of Sir Norrin, a triumphant look on her face. She retreated to the other side of the room, with her baby in her arms. With a free hand, she stumbled with the latch on her wall cabinet.

"You're a fucking angel, aren't you?" she said.

Wow. Even I was taken aback by that one. Oddly enough, all the signs were there. Perfectly-curled blond hair, piercing blue eyes, a well-chiselled body, and clean, manicured hands. This queer was definitely an angel.

"Madam, I am no such thing!" he spat out.

She finally undid the latch and quickly reached into the cabinet. As her hand shot out, the glass vial was all the angel needed to see to know that there were better places to be than in that room with this mad demon-fucker. He turned on his heels and bolted out of the room as fast as he entered it.

So, Heaven had decided to be the first to get to the Demon Child. Interesting. Very interesting. I silently thanked the Wind Spirit as I contemplated my next move. I would visit one of my bosses to get some answers.

THE SEARCH Continues...

The kid is nowhere in the house. This is most unusual. I could have sworn that these souls couldn't travel very far from the site of their death. Hmmm... Well, I will check the grounds of the house. Maybe theirs a cemetary near by that the punk thinks would be the right place to hang out? I'll go check. In the meantime, let me continue my story...

Death's Log 2: The Origin of a Rock Star

I cannot get anymore into this story without explaining what it is that I am and what exactly I do. It so totally complicated but, what the hay, why not give it a shot at explaining?

I was born a long time ago. To be honest, I don't know when but it must have been a hell of a long time ago. I was "hanging and banging" when the first cavemen idiotically "discovered" fire. (You should have seen the blaze those idiots created!) I don't have any proper parents, although if I were to take a wild guess, it would probably be God who would be the rightful breeder to call both my mom and dad- which is why I normally call him the ultimate hermaphrodite. (Never to His face, though.)

My job function has always been to be the gatekeeper, the unlucky bearer of bad news that everyone fears. I escort the recently deceased to a gate that they must pass through and from there, I let the powers-that-be decide what comes next. Now, don't be fooled. I don't do this job all by myself. It would be a hell of a shitty job if I had to work every single death, because then I would never have anytime to myself. No, I have replicas of me that work all parts of the world. There is Yamu, the Lord of Death in Southern Asia, Babafu, the Guiding Lion in sub-Saharan Africa and many, many more. Essentially, I created them to relieve my workload and, honestly, they do the job just fine.

Where is my jurisdiction, you ask? Well, I still am the head honcho of all things to do with death, but I don't have a jurisdiction. I appear when I feel like it. Mostly, I will come and provide back-up during war times and times of plagues and famines, but usually I prefer to stay in the background. To be quite honest, I rather enjoy watching the dramas of human life. Nothing could be more entertaining, trust me!

I don't have any other name besides Death, although occassionally I will use the name "Death, God's First Son", but His Other Son does not seem to care for it. Technically, I am God's first born. Just because he had to sleep with Himself and not some homely virgin from Jerusalem doesn't make me illegitimate, you know what I mean? Anyways, I have the one name.

I have seen everything there is to see in this world and some of the stories I could tell you would turn your back hair white with shock. But I will save those for another time because now that I have told you about myself, you will better appreciate the story I am telling you now. Where was I at? Oh, I was on my way to meet one of my bosses...

Death's Log- Boss Is Not Too Happy

"What do you want, Death?"

The exasperated tone in Michael's voice threw me for a loop. I looked at this spoiled little piss-ant angel and laughed in his face.

"Lose the attitude, Mike," I said. "God's First Son is here."

The little bastard rolled his eyes at me and walked away. I was used to cold receptions in Heaven, by now. They never got over the fact that I had a steady job, while they stayed up here fiddling there thumbs and strumming their corny harps. Plus, I was VIP up in this piece at all times because of my job.

"Yo, Mike!"

I had just thought of something. I needed to know where the Big Cheese was hanging these days. The Old Man always liked to move around. Michael turned around and, frustratingly, threw his hands in the air.

"What do you want, Death?" he said.

"Where is the Big G today?" I asked.

"He's at the Tower of Happiness," he said. "He's talking with 'Tron right now, so don't go bothering him. We are busy up here today, in case you hadn't noticed."

He walked away. I turned around and walked towards the Tower of Happiness. One thing you must know about Heaven- there are a hell of a lot of Towers and Temples up here. Too many if you ask me. The place is like an architectures wet dream, tower upon tower upon tower. Yet, they can't get a descent strip joint up here. Go figure.

I walk down the Alley of Good Tidings and see a half-dozen angels playing some poker in a lounge. Since alcohol is forbidden in Heaven, they are probably taking shots of Shirley Temples. I think better of spiking their drinks, because the last time I did that... well, let's just say that their was a lot of feathers flying.

I pass the Street of Sainthood and nearly run into an Indian Guru wildly popular up here for his inspirational talks. He smiles at me and, oddly, I smile back. Something tells me I need to move on before I get sanctified to death.

I finally reach the Street of Saviors and the Tower of Happiness just beams from the background. It is an enormous silver building, all onion domes and turrets. The entire facade of the building is covered in jewels that couldn't even be found on Earth. Just the essence of opulence and, in the massive hall, was God Himself. Unfortunately, 'Tron was in there as well.

Just a quick aside for those not in the know, 'Tron is short for Metatron. He is a being that is known as the "Voice of God"- and, technically, my brother. This creepy fellow is a little younger that myself although I don't quite remember how he came about. He has a downright nasty attitude that normally instills fear into most other angels. He is very different from the residents of this abode, as well, as he does not follow all of the laws that every inhabitant has to follow. Basically, the man is an alcoholic and he is not above taking a peek at human bedrooms for a little "entertainment", if you catch my drift. But God lets him get away with it because he is one mean motherjumper who can fight with the best Hell has to offer and has one hell of a loud, mean voice.

So, I walk up to the Tower and I knock with the customary three knocks to indicate that I come in peace. The door opens a crack and a loud booming voice echoes in my ears.

"Death, you are not needed here and you have not been called. Please leave."

Metatron. Unfortunately for him, I am not an angel and could care less about his booming voice or prediliction for human porn. So, I answer back.

"Let me in, fool!" I say. "I have to speak to God. Right now!"

The door swings open. Oddly, I haven't been inside the Tower of Happiness in over a thousand years, so the splendor of the foyer nearly caught me off guard. The arch which framed the Great Hall behind it was massive, possibly 60 feet in height, adorned with the most awe-inspiring jewels and frescoes of the many angels in Heaven that could only have been painted by the best of the best. It was stunning. As I pass under it, I notice that the frescoes are moving. The angels have more of a life in paint than in reality. Now, Heaven was showing some originality that impressed even me.

I looked down the Great Hall and see a small figure seated upon a throne and another, much bigger figure sitting next to it. I walk the length of the room, which is roughly 500 feet in length and the closer I get I see a shape that forms into what could only be Metatron, who was sitting next to God Himself. As I reach within 20 feet of them, Metatron puts a big hand up to indicate that I need to stop.

"What is it that you want, Death?" he says.

I look at Metatron harshly. He was a big man, roughly the size of two men, all muscle. His short black hair was in contrast to the many stereotypically blond angels that could be found everywhere in Heaven. He had dark-olive skin, with a black mustache. But it was his eyes that were his most distinct feature. As red as the sun rising over Japan, his eyes evoked danger and terror. One look at the man and you would understand why he was God's right hand man. But he didn't intimidate me. I needed some answers.

"Listen, 'Tron..." I started.

"My name is Metatron, you oaf," he said. "Do not disrespect me in front of our Lord."

"Ok, Metatron. I need to ask some questions about what happened today in Raiz," I said. "I assume your people are coming up with some solutions right now about what to do with this Demon Child..."

"This is of no concern to you, Death," he interrupted. "The affairs of Heaven are completely out of your jurisdiction. Go back to Earth and do your job and stay doing your job and keep your nose out of our business."

Oh, boy. Now, I was pissed. There is one thing I must make very clear here, though. Even though God was sitting on the throne next to Metatron, you could not directly speak to Him or look at Him. It was like a great, big ball of white light that hovered next to Metatron. To look at Him directly would result in some major blindage for five hundred years and to speak to Him without permission would render you mute for just as long. He was a loving God, but one with very strict rules. So, I had to deal with Metatron, who was the only one allowed to actually communicate with God directly. Except, the Other Son. But he don't count.

"I need to ask God some questions. Could you please appeal to him?" I said. "This recent turn of events could impact me greatly. There could be wars and such that will have me working some major overtime. I need to know what's up quick."

Metatron just stared at me with those cold, red eyes of his. He was not happy I was there, mostly because he knew he could no more intimidate me than any other angel.

"I will say this one last time, Death," he said. "Leave the Tower, leave Heaven, and go back to work. You have nothing to do with this! Now, go!"

"Listen up, fool!" I said. "I have had enough tongue from you. Now tell God I need to speak to Him, or the shit will hit the fan!"

Metatron stood up. I walked slowly toward him, with the intent to put a hurting on that soldier boy, but the sudden rumbling from the foundation of the building indicated that we had awaken a sleeping giant. We had pissed off God.

"Death, this does not concern you," God said. "Metatron is right. Go back to your work and let the minions of my Kingdom do theirs. Now, please go."

Although my eyes were firmly planted on the ground, I could only imagine the smirk that was sliding across Metatron's nasty face right then. The thought of it just boiled me up, but I had to contain it. God had spoken.

"Metatron, please inform God that I will do his bidding," I said, walking away.

I walked out of the Tower of Happiness none too happy. Downright pissed would be more like it. I had no other choice. I needed to find Norrin. He would know what's going on.

THE SEARCH Continues...

I checked the grounds and found nothing. They had a hell of a garden here though. But nothing more. No cemetary, no family plot, nothing. Now I am completely stumped. Where the hell could this punk have gone? I don't even have a "sense" for him, which is usually an early indication of some foul play. Not good. Not good at all. I need to visit his family home. Maybe he went looking for his girlfriend or something. Let's hope.

Death's Log- Angel Dust

Contrary to popular belief, homosexuals can go to Heaven. Actually, their persecution throughout history has made God repent his old ways and it is law now that all decent homosexuals be accepted into Heaven. So, looking for one gay angel in this place isn't nearly as easy as it sounds.

I am walking down Pride Lane, an exclusively gay neighborhood that is actually the life of the party here in Heaven. So many nightclubs (dry, of course), hair salons, great restaurants, tennis courts, leather stores (don't ask), and much more make this place THE spot to hang out, all run by gay angels. As I look down the street, thousands upon thousands of angels are walking, going about their lazy lives shopping for this season's most popular robes, or seeking out the perfect flute (harps are nowhere near as popular as they used to be). I bump into one angel with a ton of makeup. Great, I think,  a drag angel.

"Girl! You better watch where you going!" she/he said.

I looked him up and down, as he eyeballed me back. His huge golden wig was in stark contrast to his dark brown skin, burgundy lipstick, and immaculate white robe with purple lace on the sleeves. His coffee-colored eyes were scanning me up and down, possibly trying to figure out who I was.

"Listen, sister," I said. "I am looking for someone. An angel."

"Well, girl," he started. "You better try the Tight Ship on the corner of Divine and Concord Street. Them boys will show you a good time.

"No sex though," he continued. "Never any sex." His face grew into a frown.

"No, no! I am looking for a specific angel," I said. "His name is Norrin. I think he hangs around here alot, I'm not too sure though."

He contemplated what I had said, although the spark of recognition when I had said the angel's name was apparent. He broke the look of concentration and stared, his eyes boring a hole through me.

"What is you want, homegirl?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"I am Death," I said. "I just need to ask Norrin a few questions about something that happened on Earth today."

"Death!?" he spurted out. He started laughing, his voice like a waterfall of bird calls. Yeah, quite annoying. "Girl, you in the wrong spot! That queen Norrin is already dead, in case you didn't get the memo. Dead as a doornail. He wouldn't be an angel if he were alive, you know!"

"I know that, you fruit basket!" I said, losing my patience.

Oops. I had done it. Before I knew it, a long glittery fingernail was pointing in my face and just as fast I was on the ground, my head pounding as if I had been hit with a hammer. I looked up and saw a new man, a powerful angel, who although was as fruity as a men's chorus, was one tough son-of-a-bitch. I slowly got up and looked at this she-man with renewed respect.

"Sorry about that," I said. "Could you please tell me where Norrin is?"

The angel looked at his fingernails, smiling as if he were the proverbial cat who ate the canary. He closed his eyes quickly, then re-opened them and smiled some more. The anticipation was killing me, but he was having a grand old time. Bitch.

"My name is Tony, but the boys call me Tonya," he said. "Don't forget the name, you pale freak. Now, head down to the 'Heaven Sent' convenience store down the street. Norrin is shopping."

With that, he walked away, still smiling. As I watched Tonya walk away, I could not help but think that something was wrong. This had been the first time I was struck by an angel in nearly two hundred years, but this time, it really hurt. The electric current Tonya sent through me would have killed a regular man and crippled an angel. He was definitely one tough bitch and I needed to find out why that was. But maybe another time, as I really needed to speak to Norrin about the Demon Child.

I wanted to make a point before I continue. I am not a homophobe, as you may have been led to believe. I love homosexuals. I love heterosexuals and bisexuals, too. Hermaphrodites, transexuals, and "try"-sexuals, as well. It is in my nature to be non-judgemental when it comes to orientation, because if I were not, then this job would be a hell of a lot more complicated. Myself and God are the only two beings in creation that can truly be called asexual, as sex is neither important nor useful to either of us. So, please don't misconstrue the comments I make as being judgemental in anyway. I just like to talk. Alot. It gets me in a lot of trouble, but I am a big boy and I can handle it.

So, back to the story.

I walked down the road and came upon the Heaven Sent convenience store. It was packed, as usual. Of course, this was the place for all angels to come and get their supplies. I walked in the store, amongst thousands of angels and was immediately lost. I walked up to the counter and a chipper young angel smiled at me as if he had just won the lottery.

"Good morning and welcome to Heaven Sent!," he said. "How may I help you?"

I knew I had to buy something or this fool wouldn't cough up the info. I looked behind him and saw some cigarettes. What the hell. Lung cancer doesn't exist in Heaven anyways.

"Could I get a pack of Christos cigarettes, please?" I said.

He reached behind him, grabbed the pack and passed it to me.

"Here you go, sir," he said. "Will that be all?"

"No," I said. "Could you tell me where Norrin is? I was told he was in the store."

"Sure!" he said. He closed his eyes for one second, then opened them. "He is in the back of the store, buying some Wing Repair."

"Thanks."

I walked away from the chipper young angel as he was prepared to say "Your welcome" and I walked towards the back of the store. I looked at the pack of Christos in my hand (which are free, as is everything else in Heaven) and contemplated lighting one up. They were nicotine-free, so it was not as if I would kill myself with just one. But the site of Norrin, rubbing some Wing Repair on an obviously battered left wing made me think otherwise. I was here to get some info.

"Norrin!" I yelled.

Norrin looked towards the direction of my voice and his face immediately turned into a face of panic. He looked in all directions for an obvious escape route, but I was too fast. Within seconds, I was within a foot of his face. He dropped the bottle of Wing Repair back on the shelf and sighed heavily.

"I need to talk to you," I said.

"Wha- what f-for, Death?" he stumbled. His perfectly manicured hands were trembling. "I know you were there when I met the Demon Child. You saw what happened! That lady..."

His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. His whole body was shaking. Something was definitely up.

"Why did you leave like that?" I said. "You two seemed as if you had known each other for sometime. Why did you just bolt out of the room?"

"I had to!" he yelled. The other shoppers looked at us, but soon went back to their own business. "She had the Angel Crux in her possession. I never mess with that!"

Angel Crux. The most powerful weapon against an angel. One drop of that stuff made even the most brave angel nervous. Wherever the drop falls would make that part of their skin human once again. If an angel was dowsed in Angel Crux, he would revert back to his humanity forever and never enter Heaven again. It was made by my other boss, The Devil and given to his Demon Army when the last war between Heaven and Hell happened. Heaven lost a lot of good men and women to Angel Crux. But how did this bimbo in Raiz get it?

"How the hell could she have gotten Angel Crux, Norrin?" I asked.

Listen, Death," he said. "I have known the woman for nearly a year. It was the assignment I was given by Metatron. He had found out that a demon was cavorting with a human named Lady Meer. It would stand to reason that eventually another Demon Child would be bred. Once the woman was pregnant, the demon fled back to Hell, never to be seen again. Before he left though, he obviously must have given her Angel Crux and told her to use it if an angel had come near the Child.

"But my assignment called for me to have first contact with the Demon Child, to imbue him with essence of Heaven," he continued. "I would never have expected the girl to have Angel Crux. It was only when I got back this afternoon that Metatron informed me what the demon had done."

"So you left?" I asked.

"I honestly had to, Death," he said. "I can feel Angel Crux and the second she reached into the cabinet, I knew what it was she was getting. If I had been touched by that filth..."

He shuddered.

"Metatron took me off the case and gave it to another angel. One much more powerful than myself. Hopefully, the mission is a success."

"Whom did he assign, Norrin?"

"Tonya the Drag Angel."

Oh boy. What a day, what a day. I thanked Norrin and jetted out of the store, in search for the drag angel that knocked me on my ass earlier. Something tells me that he knew exactly what I was looking for when I asked for Norrin. There was only one thing I could do now. Tight Ship, here I come!

THE SEARCH continues...

His family house was empty, except for the pet dog I found in the kitchen, which was soundly asleep. His bedroom, the cellar, the family room, and every other room was completely empty. Bafflingly, he had left a note to his mother. It read:

"I will be back, mother. I have to find something for the wedding today."

I am not sure what the hell that means, but the boy apparently went shopping for a wedding gift on his last day on Earth. Now, this presents a problem because that can only mean that everyone in his family has gone to this wedding, so it is most likely that he has gone there, as well. Shit. I have no idea where this wedding would be. It was time to ask for help.

I made a circle in the air with my index finger and chanted something in a long-lost language and, suddenly, magic happened. The air around me got thick. In the distance I heard the family dog yelp and run out the kitchen door. The walls shook from a light rumble at the bottom of the house and candles burst into flames all around me in the living room. A mirror crashed down from its perch above the mantel. Suddenly, it stopped. I looked towards the now-open kitchen door and saw a figure. It was my friend, Godfrey the Cave Nymph.

He was an enormous man with a high forehead and deepset, black eyes. He hunched over from years of the back-breaking work in his caves. He wore a bearskin shirt, with bearskin trousers, sporting the best in bearskin boots. His smile, full of rotted teeth that would make most dentists either cry for joy or from fear, was beaming from his unshaven and wrinkled face. This was my friend and as he bounded towards me, I secretly thanked God that I was intagible, as I have heard that his hugs have left many paralyzed.

"Godfrey, old pal!" I said. "I need your help."

"Anything for you, Death," he said. "It has been too long since I last saw you!"

He tried to clap me on the shoulder, but realized he couldn't, as his hand just went straight through me. The man was definitely no intellectual.

"What is it you need, my friend," he said.

"I am looking for a wedding," I said. "You are the Cave Nymph of all of Raiz, so you should know everything that is going on around here."

The big oaf racked his brain to think. I am sure this was a task that required much work for the idiot, so I stayed completely quiet.

"There is a wedding," he said. "Near one of my caves. The Full Mouth Cave of Wonders, to be exact. There were hundreds there when I left, although I don't normally pay attention to those things."

"Godfrey, you're the best!" I said. "How are the kids doing, anyways?"

"Kids are no good, Death," he said, a sad look creeping across his nasty face. "I think I will send them to you sooner than later. Spoiled brats, all of them."

I laughed. He did not. If it were one thing that I ever knew about Godfrey was that he hated his children. Maybe I would see them sooner than later.

I thanked him and left as quickly as I could. My patience was wearing thin. This kid had gone far enough. God was likely to be quite pissed if I did not find him soon. And don't think that His High and Mighty won't punish me something fierce if I don't succeed. You should have seen what he did to the Other Son. He's still picking the rust from those nails out of his hands...

Death's Log- What a Drag

The Tight Ship was as close to a dive as Heaven got. What a dump. The outside was unspectacular, just a faded brick facade, with a half-lit neon sign with the name on it. Inside was much worse though, with cheap linoleum floors covered in sticky fruit juice and the ever-popular Holy Gum, which stuck to the bottom of your shoe like glue. Luckily for me, I don't wear shoes. Even luckier, my feet never touch the ground. If it did, I just could not imagine an eternity gyrating to the awful piano muzak they were playing at that very moment. Just terrible.

I walked up to the bar and an old man with dusty white hair and a moustache that hid many naughty secrets from the nose above it, just looked at me. I got this reaction in Heaven alot. I was Death, roaming amongst the Heavenly brethren in the holy abode. But his look was something more. I think this was the right man to talk to.

"Where's Tonya?" I asked, taking a seat on the sticky little stool, fixing him with my best dirty look.

"Don't know, don't care," he said.

He began to turn away and immediately I put my hand out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Hold up, fool," I said. "You tell me where Tonya is and I won't dropkick your old ass to your next reincarnation. You feel me?"

His beady little eyes stared at me. He was most definitely contemplating taking on the Lord of Death himself, but must have thought better of it as he shrugged, quickly closed his eyes, then re-opened them.

"He is standing outside the Tower of Happiness," he said, a huge smile crossing his nasty old lips. "Now be off and away, you bugger. We don't need your kind here."

The old fart turned and walked away, to await another customer. I slowly got up and scanned the scene. It was a pathetic sight, to say the least. On the dancefloor was two dozen barely passable male angels bobbing their heads mindlessly to the terrible musak. Off to the corner were a few more angels, probably trying what passed for flirting in Heaven. You see, angels- male or female- have no sexual organs. God made sure of it once you stepped through those Pearly Gates. Most of the patrons at the Tight Ship, as in all other bars in Heaven, where trying to act human to a certain point and it was all rather sad and depressing. Like I said, there were no decent bars in Heaven.

I walked into the eternal beautiful day and wondered "Why did Tonya need to be at the Tower of Happiness?" I supposed the old fart could have lied, but I don't think even he was that dumb to mess with me. So, I got to moving. My destination: the Tower of Happiness.

Within minutes, I arrived and immediately I saw Tonya. He was prostrated on the ground, his golden wig resting on the concrete facing the Tower. I had a sudden sensation to kick the bitch on his ample posterior, but thought better of it given the ass-whooping he gave me earlier. I stood respectfully at a distance and coughed lightly, enough so Miss Thang could hear me. He stirred slightly, then rose with all the grace of a princess. He turned to me and smiled. Damn, I hated that smile.

"Tonya...," I said. "Well, I assume you know why I am here. I need answers."

"You're not getting them, honey," he said, his smile never fading. "Too many factors at work here to involve someone like you. Just go away."

"Listen to me bitch..." I started, but quickly his finger was up again, ready to strike.

"Don't make me do it again, Death," he said. "I am not playing. Leave this to the angels and God. Mind your business."

The anger stirred up inside me like a tempest. I brought my hand up to face level and made a motion, counter-clockwise. Within seconds, Tonya was knocked about 75 feet back from some unseen force. The impact echoed thoughout and bounced off the Tower of Happiness. Yeah, I was bullshit.

"Now, bitch," I yelled, "you going to answer my questions, or do I have to send your ass to Hell?"

In an instant, Tonya flew towards my face. The rage that registered on his was a little fear-inducing, yet I kept my stance. I was no slacker in the power department, as he now knew.

"Do you realize you have hit an angel?!" he yelled. "That is an offense..."

"Let me stop you there, little lady," I said. It was now my turn to smile. "I don't live by the laws of Heaven or Hell. Do you see Metatron or God or Michael running here, looking to reprimand me? Of course not. I am Death, bitch. I make my own rules. Now answer my fucking questions, cause I am sick and tired of hanging out in this holier-than-thou rathole you call a home."

With that said, the rage had grown to immense proportions. Sweat formed on his well-landscaped eyebrows as his eyes bore a hole in me. He looked around to see if anyone was there and realized that we were still quite alone. Would there be a showdown at the Tower of Happiness? I welcomed it, because if there was one thing I could not stand, it was an uptight soldier of God. Suddenly, his eyebrows relaxed. He wiped off the dust and debris from his robes and his lips curled up into that smile I now loathed. Yet, this time mine was so much brighter.

"The Demon Child is being watched by the Fallen 24/7," he said. "Metatron told me that I needed to reach the child anyway possible to make sure that he does not grow into a murderer, as the last Demon Child did."

"But why the interest in this kid?" I asked. "The last one barely got any attention from Heaven."

"And now look at him," he said. "He is now the General of The Fallen. He was pure evil and Heaven did nothing to prevent it. When he was alive on Earth, he killed nearly 900 people. All on his own."

"But what can Heaven do for this Demon Child? He was born part demon, there is no changing what he is."

"But there is, Death. What you don't know was that the last Demon Child had a nanny growing up. She was not an angel, but was a human being with a pure heart. One of our people watched as the Demon Child was tutored into being a nice young man. The Fallen finally caught on and killed her off. The replacement nanny was anything but a pure-hearted woman and was rumored to be a member of the Fallen itself."

"I understand this, Tonya. But now Heaven wants to get involved in this boy's life to make sure he is a good human being? What will that change? He will still go to Hell when he dies. He is part demon, after all."

Tonya put his head down and seemed to be deep in thought. He looked to the Tower, as if looking for the answers from the outside walls. He turned to me with a confused look on his face.

"I do what I am told, Death."

And with that, he flew away. As I watched him leave once again, I could not help but wonder if I had planted a major seed of doubt in him. I felt almost guilty, but I felt as if I had made a valid point. Things were looking a little too complicated for me. I needed some more answers. Next stop: Hell, baby.

THE SEARCH Continues...

Getting to this damn wedding is proving to be much harder than I thought. The second I step outside the door, who stops me but Colonel Dink of the Fallen. A handsome man who inspired awe in most of those who laid eyes upon him. He wore a patch to cover a scar that Michael had given him at the last war and it made him seem that much more intimidating. If only he could lose the name...

"Death," he said.

"Dink," I said, trying my hardest to not laugh when I say it.

"The boy is gone, Death. Even my troops can't find him in the village."

The thought enters my head to mention the wedding, but the better half stopped me. Something was not right, once again. How had an army of demons not been able to find one of their own?

"I don't know what to tell you, Dink," I said. "Maybe he took the last train out of town."

"Very funny, old man," he said. "Oddly enough, I thought it was your job to find the recently deceased. Don't tell me you're getting too old for the job?"

"Fuck you, Dink," he said. "And your ugly momma."

Boy, do I have a knack for pissing off the inhabitants of the otherworlds. Colonel Dink just stared at me, his smile faded into oblivion, replaced by a scowl that would scare the pants off most others.

Without saying a word, Dink turned and left, calling out some orders to his nearby troops. Something tells me that Colonel Dink would have given me a hell of a fight and I am actually relieved that he did not retaliate. But, boy, does this mystery get even more interesting. How did the demons not hear about the wedding? I would assume it was common knowledge around these parts and their spies should have picked up on it. Why is this lost boy hiding and what is he hiding from? Hmmm....