[ WP ] Death is literally on your doorstep , but it 's Halloween . He is having a hard time explaining himself .

`` I am Death,'' he repeated. `` Your time has come, Mr. Cole.'' 
 
 His costume, I must admit, was very intense. His tattered and threadbare black cloak was covered with webs ( and spiders?!? -- what dedication! ), and barely concealed his skeletal frame beneath. Glancing up to his face, the skull mask was utterly believable. A skillful makeup job with black face paint now hid any trace of his eyes within the `` empty'' eye sockets, and under the shadow of his hood, I thought I saw something crawl out of one of them. And his scythe ( or sickle? I could not remember which is correct ) looked very imposing, gripped in his skeletal gloves. Standing under the harsh glare of my front porch light, this visitor had spared no expense decking himself out for the evening's festivities. 
 
 `` Your time,'' he repeated again with pause for effect, `` has come...'', this time tipping his scythe ever so slightly towards me. 
 
 `` Look,'' I replied, `` I already told you that I just ran out of candy, it's getting late, and you're really too old to be doing this anyway. But really, kudos on the great costume.'' 
 
 I stepped back into the house, and as I was closing the door, I saw the visitor cock his head ( or skull, I guess ) to the side a bit, seemingly puzzled by my response. But I did not hear him walk away. After a moment, I switched off the porch light to send a clear message that our business was now concluded. 
 
 His retreat from my porch still was as yet undetected, despite my listening intently with my ear to the door. Starting to feel a bit uneasy, I peered through the peephole but could see absolutely nothing. Weird -- he must've skulked off quietly. 
 
 As I leaned back against the door, I let out a deep breath of relief. 
 
 `` Wait a minute! How did he know my NAME?'' 
 
 My doorbell rang again.
