Someone knocked on my door. It was three in the afternoon, and I was studying for a Calculus exam, so any distraction was fine, really. I opened the door to see a pudgy middle aged man wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and beach shorts.
"Hi there, bucko!" he said. "I'm Death! Can I come in?"
I weighed my options. On one hand, this man was probably insane.
"I have candy!" Death offered.
On the other hand… Calculus. I invited the man in.
As we walked to the living room, I noticed that all the potted plants were shriveling and browning as the man passed them by. Huh. Maybe he was Death. I was interrupted from my musing by the seemingly harmless old man.
"Oh, I'm not here to take your soul today," he said. "I'm just here to help you work on your will and testament. There's way too many people in your generation dying without writing one, you know? So no robe or scythe today! Feel free to ask me anything!"
I remained silent, chewing over the information I'd been given.
"I'm underage. Why would I need a will?" I asked.
"I, uh," Death stuttered before recovering. "Look, you're what, fifteen? Sixteen? Some countries consider sixteen year olds as full fledged adults, I'll have you know! Next question!"
That seemed fair.
"…When am I going to die?" I tentatively asked.
"Sorry, rules say I can't tell you that," Death chuckled. He plunked himself down on the couch, looking around the house.
"I don't suppose I could chain you up like Sisyphus did," I uttered gloomily.
"Try it and you're… well, dead," he replied. The room grew colder, only to warm up again when Death leapt up, clapping his hands.