March 14, 2009 Prompt: The grim reaper comes to your protagonists door (or at least someone dressed as him) and tells your protagonist it's time, but then gives a snap of his fingers and states "Sorry friend, mix-up, I'll see you next Friday."

I seem to have Death on my mind a lot lately.

I'm not really sure why. It's not as though the anthropomorphic personification of Death came to my house last week, told me it was my time, looked at His watch, then snapped His fingers and said, "Sorry for the mix-up. I'll see you next Friday."

No, wait… That's exactly what happened.

How do I know it was Death, and not just a really bad prank, you may ask? Well, for one thing, all the bones kind of gave it away. Also, His scythe cut into my doorframe a little bit… from five inches away. Now, I can't be sure, but it seems pretty obvious that to cut the soul from the body that scythe would have to be pretty damn sharp, and if the blade is practically invisible to the human eye for five inches, well…

Also, He was ridiculously tall. I'm talking ridiculous. He would have almost made Andre the Giant look like Andre the Dwarf. It was pretty impressive, in a terrifying kind of way.

So, yeah, pretty sure that really was Death.

And because of that, I've been doing a lot of thinking this last week. It's hard to describe what effect knowing when you're going to die, or at least the day, has on your mind. I'm a little bit terrified, because, well, going to die. I'm also a little relieved, because it means I know exactly how much time I've got left to get stuff done if I want. It's kind of like that joke, that goes, "Don't start any long books." I mean, I'm a little upset that I'm going to miss the rest of Dollhouse, because that's an awesome show, but overall… some relief there.

Then there's all the usual anger, nihilism, that kind of stuff, but everything just kind of runs together into one big thought, that being along the lines of, "'I'll see you next Friday.'" It took a few days, but then, it's understandably hard to get past that.

So, what the hey?

On Monday, I robbed a bank. Later that day, I anonymously donated the money to charity. It was pretty entertaining, and I'd love to see the looks on their faces when they realize that every single dollar showed up.

On Tuesday, I got into a bar fight with three big bikers. After, we got some beers and hung out for a while. That was pretty cool. I told them about the bank thing and the charity, and they thought it was pretty funny. Javier told me that next time, I should donate the money to the Policemen's Fund or something. I told him there wasn't going to be a next time, but agreed that would be hilarious.

On Wednesday, I just stayed inside all day and played video games. That was pretty cool, too.

On Thursday, I updated my Will, then called my Mom and talked to her for a while. I was glad to hear that she's enjoying retirement. I was not so glad to hear that she's been going on dates with one of the geezers in her complex. She just laughed at me.

And that brings us to today, Friday, the day I die.

Could I have lived my last week a little better? Probably. But, you know, I had fun, took care of some last minute stuff, and really, that's all I care about. It's not like I had any major last wishes, anyway. No place I had really wanted to visit, or women I regretted not dating, or any of that usual stuff you hear about people who know they're dying. Just kind of hanging out, relaxing, avoiding work, all that kind of stuff. No real regrets there.

I did make sure my cat has plenty of food and water, hopefully enough for a week, at least. I'm not sure how long it'll take for my death to be discovered, and I want to make sure the little guy will be all right.

And that brings us up to now, while I'm writing this. I'm sure you might have expected something a bit more grandiose, or more frantic, or… well, more… but really, that's not how I operate. I'm not one for giving long goodbyes, or coherent explanations. I just thought it might be interesting reading for whoever finds this.

Someone's knocking at the door. I'll give you three guesses who. And the first two guesses don't count.

THE END

Word Count: 747