A bit of fun written for OLWG#78
Henry was sittin’ in his livin’ room
When he heard a knock
BOOM, BOOM – BOOM, BOOM
Pounding on his old front door
Henry sat on his mother’s old Chesterfield in the front room, watching TV. He was interrupted by someone at the door. His caller, that afternoon, was Death himself. That Grim Reaper was wearing his black robes and standing on the wide wooden porch. His bony finger was pointing directly at Hank. He carried his scythe in the crook of his arm, the wicked blade resting over his shoulder.
“You’re early,” Henry said and he turned back toward the sofa, “But you might as well come in anyway. The game doesn’t start for at least another hour. Come on then… don’t let all the warm air out.” He chided the Angel of Death who had remained in the doorway but now followed Hank into the house.
“Did you bring beer?” Henry asked. “You were supposed to bring beer.”
Pale Death trailed behind. silent as the grave.
This week’s prompts were:
- an unmarked grave
- a high forehead
- “you’re early,” he said