[ WP ] The straw that broke the Grimm Reaper 's back

Training day. I always hated training day. We took in a few million dead kids, told them how the job works and told them that they didn ’ t have to go forward into “ the great unknown ” if they weren ’ t ready yet. Big surprise, we get a lot of volunteers for the job. 
 
 I had a good kid with me this year, his name is Greg. Greg worked as a cashier at Safeway until he was robbed and shot between the eyes by the robber. The first thing he asked me when the shock wore off? “ Who the fuck robs a Safeway? ” That got a chuckle, which happens once every founding of a great nation, so I liked the kid from the get-go. 
 
 I had to show Greg how to do the job, and it was pretty simple. You find the recently deceased, you explain their predicament to them, and then you carry them onward. Pretty simple, very straightforward, but Greg was a good kid, and I still hate myself for dropping him into the deep like I did. 
 
 It was a scene like out of some girl ’ s nightmare. She ’ d been walking home, sparkling rock on her finger, skirt swaying with the subtle breeze. She had a smile her brunette hair just couldn ’ t hold back, even when it blew in her face. It was probably the most infectious smile either Greg, or I had ever seen. She walked with the confidence only love can give a woman, and like that, it was all taken away. 
 
 She was grabbed by a bunch of thugs, literally dragged into a nearby alley and violated in every possible way you could think of. I still don ’ t like thinking about it, and I ’ ve been at this a *long* time. 
 
 Greg surprised me. He looked almost… eager. 
 
 “ How ’ s it work? ” he asked, ready to go to work. I was disgusted, but I managed to ask him what in hell he was talking about. Y ’ know what he said? “ Well, how ’ s she gon na kill one of ‘ em? ” 
 
 That naivety… that innocence. It broke my heart, really. I put my hand on Greg ’ s shoulder and told him in the nicest way I could that we weren ’ t here for the thugs. As soon as I ’ m done talking, one of those thugs pulls out a big knife and cuts the girl ear to ear. I wanted to cry. Not because it was sad- I ’ d seen plenty sadder- but because I wanted to let Greg know that he wasn ’ t alone. 
 
 The poor fucking kid, he just stood there. I ’ ll bet he wanted to be a superhero as a kid so he could save people, and now he ’ s just idly watching them get murdered, drown, kill themselves and every other way to off yourself you can think of. I could see in him, watching his tears stream down his cheeks, that he figured out the enemy of a hero isn ’ t a villain, but rather it ’ s passivity. It ’ s doing nothing and standing back while the horrors go on around you. 
 
 We took the girl in, explained to her what happened, and listened to the same hundred excuses and same hundred questions they all had. They all insisted that it wasn ’ t their time because they had things to do, and they all asked us about heaven, hell, reincarnation and everything in between. One guy actually asked if we could give him an extension on life so he could return a porno he ’ d rented, and make it look like he didn ’ t have a heart attack while beating off. People, man. 
 
 But after the girl passed on, Greg told me he wasn ’ t cut out for the job. We both knew he wasn ’ t, but I didn ’ t want to be true. I wanted Greg to keep doing this for my own selfish reasons. I wanted a friend- I wanted someone witty, who could make me laugh, even if it ’ s just with a pinch of cynicism. I ’ ve got too much of the latter, not enough wit. I don ’ t laugh so good anymore. 
 
 But Greg was adamant. He didn ’ t know what was on the other side of that door, but it was better than sitting back and watching the world die. He told me that he couldn ’ t stand by and do nothing. He told me that maybe on the other side there would be something he could do for people, even if it was just a gust of wind, and even if it only worked once in a million years. It was better than watching. 
 
 And y ’ know what? The kid ’ s right. 
 
 Please consider this my formal resignation to the Mortality Bureau. It ’ s been an honor to serve you for the many decades I ’ ve been around, but it ’ s time for me to move on. Thank you. 

