I’m used to hearing a lot of trash talk as I do my job.
Before I kill a man, he’ll tell me how he will use my bones for toothpicks or
fuck my mother or some other action that I will calmly ensure will not occur
with a single swing of my weapon.
But there was this kid, well, teenager really, who just
stared at me, and as I walked up, he spoke in a tone of voice that even I found
chilling.
“You’re a dead man.”
I killed him.
“Of course I am, I’m the Grim Reaper…” I muttered.
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