Get your own Free Home Page
Arnold Rimmer gazed upward at the Incarnation of Death, as the
ship fell
apart around him.
"Arnold Judas Rimmer," it intoned. "Your
life is over. Come with me." The
apparition reached out a hand to him. "We will travel
to the River Styx,
where you will place a coin in the--"
"Not today, matey," Rimmer replied, sending a
well-aimed knee into the
apparition's nether regions. "Remember, only the good
die young."
With that, he took off down the smoke-filled hall. Within
moments he was
out of sight.
Death was still in a crumpled heap on the floor.
"That's never happened
before..."
At that point, a man in dark clothing stepped out from behind a
fallen
bulkhead, shaking his head in disappointment at the specter.
"Son..." the man began.
"Oh, knock it off, dad, I'm not feeling very well at the
moment," it
groaned. Instead of its earlier stentorian tones, the voice
had become
lighter and decidedly more...working class. "I thought
you said this would
be easier if I went with a traditional representation of
Death."
The older-looking man sighed, then shrugged. "Yes,
well, the bright
spangled waistcoat just doesn't project an appropriate
image for this line
of work." He watched as the otherworldly figure tossed
the scythe to the
floor and began pulling off its robe; then looked thoughtfully
down the
corridor where Arnold Rimmer had run. "You know, I
could swear I'd
got him already..."
"Dad, I'm not in the mood for one of your lectures right
now," the specter
interrupted, finally removing the heavy cloak. When
the robes were off, it
revealed a rather normal-looking man with dark hair. He was
all in black,
save for a brightly colored, incongruously cheerful-looking
multicolored vest.
"Would you like to try it again?" the older man
offered. "He's still on the
ship, you know."
"I don't think so." Mulberry glared at his
father, then staggered over to
lean against the bulkhead, wincing. "I tell you, Dad,
I am just not cut out
for this job."
This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page