[ WP ] Death comes to you when you are on your deathbed and you discover he 's actually a very nice Canadian guy .

A Visitor from Up North 
 
 Studies show that death lies in the top 3 biggest fears people have. It definitely took the top spot for me. I knew that whoever death was or wherever I was going, I REALLY didn ’ t want to find out. So it figures that lying in that hospital bed on the edge of death was not a pleasant time for me. 
 
 I ’ ve got Stage 4 lung cancer. I knew that smoking was going to catch up with me one day. I always imagined dying heroically, maybe taking a bullet for my wife or drowning on a ship to let some orphans have the last lifeboat. Turns out real life is a lot less melodramatic. Cancer is surprisingly painful, it almost makes me want to die, almost. The doctors say that I have hours to live, feels more like minutes. The pain got duller every second and I started to get drowsy. I figured it was the meds they were pumping into me; turns out I was moments away from death. As I slowly shut my eyes, my last thought was, “ I hope death is nice ” … 
 
 I feel hot breath on my face and it smells like… ham? I find that I can open my eyes and I see a surprising sight. There is a snout above me, characterized with two large nostrils and a furry mouth. Maybe death is bigfoot, I thought. The face backs up and I realize that it ’ s a moose. First thing I see after I die is a moose. 
 
 “ Nottawa, dude, we have totally talked about this, Eh? You can ’ t go around sniffing dead people. ” 
 
 I look around for the voice which has a slight French accent. Sitting atop the moose is a middle aged guy in a plaid shirt, jeans, converse shoes, and a white baseball cap with a red maple leaf on it. The moose grunts a reluctant agreement that sounds like a funeral dirge mixed with “ O ’ Canada ”. The moose backs away from me and the French guy climbs down from its back. 
 
 “ You ’ ll have to excuse Nottawa, he loves dead people; thinks they smell like maple syrup. ” 
 
 “ M-m-maple syrup? ” I stutter. “ I demand to know what ’ s going on! ” 
 
 “ Dude… Chill, ” says Frenchie, “ I ’ m death and I ’ ve come to take you away. ” 
 
 While many questions should have come to mind like “ Where are we going? ” or “ What is it like down there ”, the only thing I could get my mouth to say was, “ Why are you Canadian? ” 
 
 “ C ’ mon dude, you are about to literally go to hell and your first question is about my ethnicity, Eh? ” Death says with a hint of surprise and indignation in his voice. “ Well, if you must know dude, I ’ m not actually death… Mr. Hades is taking a day off and I ’ m his secretary, so I do the collecting, Eh? ” 
 
 “ This makes no sense! ” I shouted. “ You want me to believe that not only is Hades real, but he has a Canadian secretary? ” 
 
 “ I don ’ t make the rules dude, I just file the death taxes- you owe us 330,000 loonies by the way. Anyways, we ’ ve chatted way too much about this kerfuffle, hop on the moose. ” 
 
 While not the weirdest thing I had heard today, at this point I had given up. Wherever I was headed, at least there might be some pancakes… I followed his command and clambered up on Nottawa. The moose grunts his approval, once again to the tune of “ O ’ Canada ” and we depart. 
 
 Many people say that death is like a monster or a savage dog just waiting to tear your soul to shreds, but as I rode that moose into the underworld, I realized that death is more like a friend, albeit a Canadian one. 

