[ WP ] You sit alone at a bar , when a man completely clad in black sits down beside you and says , `` The Grim Reaper needs a new protegé . You interested ? ''

Completely black wardrobe, full-on Johnny Cash. He sat next to me at the bar. Smelled like expensive cigarettes and, I do n't know, Europe, maybe? Had his hair slicked back and just gave off that `` too cool for this one horse town'' vibe. I'd already decided to hate him before he opened his mouth. 
 
 `` The Grim Reaper is looking for a protégé. You interested?'' 
 
 He had some strange accent. Probably from a place where they are goats and raped bears or something. 
 
 `` Sorry, man,'' I said after a mouthful of Budweiser, `` I'm straight. You might wan na be careful hittin' up too many guys in here.'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` Ai n't that some kinda gay code or something?'' 
 
 `` What - no, it's not'gay code'. I do n't even know what that means!'' 
 
 `` Sure buddy.'' 
 
 `` No, listen, I'm quite serious. Death - *the* Death - is looking to retire and needs to find someone to take his place.'' 
 
 Maybe it was the first nine beers talking but I answered him. `` Uh-huh. Death's retirin', is he? Just ai n't gon na be no more death in the word because, what? The old boy moved to Florida?'' 
 
 He let some kinda European sigh that lasted half the damn night. Sounded like a slow leak on my boat trailer. `` No. Look, being Death is, well, it is a trying position -'' 
 
 `` Is this more gay code?'' 
 
 He blinked at me. `` No. The job of being Death is difficult. So they find a new soul to take over every millennium or so. The current Death has been on unpaid overtime for sixteen years and he is quite anxious to be done. I've been sent to find a replacement.'' 
 
 `` Yeeeaaahhhhhh. So you decided I'd make a good Death, didja? Happen to be admirin' my beer drinking ability from across the room and you decided that'man, the way that fella kills them longnecks, he'd be just the one to start killin' people too'? Something like that?'' 
 
 `` Not at all. I've been watching you for years.'' 
 
 Now the little squirrelly fella had my attention. He'd been spying on me. He was either about to kiss me or stick a knife in my belly. I made sure I had a good hold on my beer'cause when he started something, I was gon na bash his head in. 
 
 `` You see,'' he kept talking instead of kissing or knifing so I waited him out, `` many people today are divorced from the realities of life. They live in climate controlled homes. They work in tidy little offices. Their food is wrapped in plastic at the supermarket. They only rarely have to face death. At least, not until they are very old. It used to be that everyone faced death every day. Children dying before their second birthday. Wives wringing a chicken's neck for Sunday dinner. Husbands slaughtering a cow for the winter larder. Today though...'' 
 
 The little fella trailed off and just sorta stared into the distance for a minute. I could n't tell if he was smiling a little or not. I still was n't sure what he was planning so I kept quiet. 
 
 `` I have to find someone comfortable with death,'' he finally said. `` That's not such an easy thing to do anymore. Then I found you.'' 
 
 `` What if I say no?'' 
 
 `` Then I was away and you forget you ever met me. I start over with the next candidate. Death, the current one, keeps working overtime and probably getting more angry about it.'' 
 
 `` What's the upside?'' 
 
 `` Upside? Well, you're Death! One of the most powerful beings in the Universe. Not to mention the knowledge of all things beyond mortal ken. Everyone answers to Death eventually. You'd be there to take all people to their final reward. You could ask them anything you want. You would comfort them or torment as you feel.'' 
 
 `` Could I still fish?'' 
 
 `` I mean - well, I - I guess? I do n't know, honestly.'' 
 
 `` What about beer? Can I still drink beer?'' 
 
 `` Not on the job, I should think. Look, these questions are really a bit about my level. But I could have someone... contact you?'' 
 
 `` What, like fuckin' HR? Death has an HR department?'' 
 
 `` Well, no -'' 
 
 `` Tell you what slick, you go on back and find out about the beer and the fishin' then you come back and we'll talk.'' 
 
 He looked at my with a funny look on his face but all he said was `` Very well.'' The little fella walked away. That's how you have to handle crazies - you do n't argue about them being crazy, you ask questions about the crazy and they have to go off and think about it. 
 
 Still, he did have that weird accent that I could n't place. I've traveled over most of the world for Uncle Sam and have a pretty good ear for accents. You have to in my line of work. The kind where you can drink beer and fish and you travel a lot and get very comfortable with Death.
