[ WP ] Humanity creates a wonder-drug granting everyone Immortality . Death arrives at the unemployment office .

`` Well, No. I never actually was officially laid-off.... Yes, I understand that Brenda... I did not quit and I was n't fired. There was no one to fire me!... I understand benefits do n't apply to self employed.... If you think about it, I'm a public servant like yourself...'' 
 
 `` Fuck you Brenda.'' 
 
 The phone closed with a satisfying snap. Smart phones were out of the question for Yammy. The screens required skin, he did not. 
 
 The bureaucracy had left him feeling frustrated. Normally he could reap to vent those frustrations. Normally he would go to some nice tropical beach, with sand, and sun, and incredibly suggestive invitations for assisted lotion application. Normally he would find the right palm tree at the right time and give it a shake at the right angle and make an educated primate enter the portion of his population where coconut related fatalities were of grave importance. 
 
 Normally people died. 
 
 This was n't the case anymore. 
 
 Two things happened to cause this. An agreement between upper gods regarding universal fairness ( all mortal coils should have the same springiness. ) some many eons ago. And recently, two backdoor deals with two different lesser demons regarding immortality ( rules say, you and only you can collect whats yours. Time being relative and all, first come first serve ai n't kosher. ) from a marijuana addicted smart-ass with a library card and access to arcane texts. 
 
 Why they're in a community college library? Who knows. When things go back to normal that librarian is going to get reaped. 
 
 Rubbing his hands in fanatical anticipation he said to no one `` I am going to reap that librarian so good.'' 
 
 But right now Yammy needs currency. You might not be able to take it with you, But the Ferryman gets his toll, And Yammy gets his cut. And currently his pockets are as empty as his waitlist. So he did what any reasonable entity would do. Seek fiscal compensation from a government body for his work in the metaphysical planes of reality. 
 
 His arrival at the office was greeted by no one. no one in line. no one in the parking lot. not a soul save for a single meek man in the back, grinning sisterly beneath his wire frame glasses. peering upon a equally large stack of forms and a red stamp that simply said `` Declined'' 
 
 Before the question was uttered, an answer appeared behind him 
 
 `` They're out living. Most of them for the first time'' 
 The syllables emanated, forged of steel, from the depth of the silver haired man's chest. 
 
 `` Is that a fact, Chronus? Because they should be dying for the last time. What's with him?'' 
 
 `` That poor soul, at his very core, enjoys the judgement and power of a bureaucratic system.'' 
 
 `` Sick bastard.'' Replied Death. 
 
 
 **EDIT** 
 
 
 Missed the drug part. Went a different way with it.
