Loving you is like eating pistachios,
I can't stop once I have started!

I'm just waiting for that check to come.
The world is burning but I feel numb.
TV is awesome and outside is dumb.
So I'm sitting here waiting for my check to come.

I'm holding my breath when I go to the store
And they're still out of paper, like the 5 times before.
But when that check hits, it's ******* galore.
I'll buy it all wholesale, it'll be a big score.

Just a few weeks til I get that sweet cash
Then it's Amazon Prime, Grub Hub and DoorDash.
I'm sure that this plague will be done in a flash
And we'll go back to life with our fat wads of cash.

So I'll sit on my sofa and watch the train wreck.
In my fortress of Lysol and standard-grade tech.
With my *** getting bigger and pain in my neck
Waiting patiently here for my stimulus check.

They say
Paris is the city of love
Apocalypse is the wrath of God
I say play your cards right
And get saved from both.

I was sitting at my desk, gloomy,
I  had sent out my CV.
I wanted to be Santa's apprentice, you see;
's long as I remember, that's what I yearned to be,
And unintentionally, my words have come out all rhyme-y.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a clang
And I toppled off my chair.
I  whipped around expecting to see
Father Christmas or at least his deputy
Come to take me up on my offer.

Instead of the gold, red and green glow,
I saw black and grey smoke curling
around my room; and out of it
Rose a sinister scythe and holding it
was the last person you'd want to see.

"Ah, the last person you'd want to see, eh?"
He said, reading my mind.
"For most I'm also the last person they would see."
He stood there, his head cocked
as if expecting me to get the joke.

"Am I going to die? Is it my time?"
I asked, all the things I've yet to do
rushing through my mind.
Especially all the swear words
left unsaid to some special people.

"Nope," he said in a dead tone,
"I'm here on official business.
North Pole is overstaffed,
So they forwarded your CV to me.
I've come to take you as my apprentice."

I stood gaping at him, my eyelid twitching.
He looked at me and I looked at him
And there was a grave silence.
"Well, giddy up," he said, "say your goodbyes,
Pack your things. Chop Chop!"

"But why you?" I asked morosely,
"Why not the Easter bunny?
Why not the Tooth Fairy?"
He snorted in derision
And looked around my room as he said,

"The Bunny doesn't take on help,
Doesn't want his precious eggs smashed.
And the Fairy has pixies to help her.
Cheer up, you'll see more action with me.
My previous helpers used to die for more."

He gave me an ominous smile.
Not entirely reassured, I packed my stuff,
Went down to bid adieu to my parents,
Left a letter to my friends,
And posted a spring punching fist to my ex.

He was sitting on my chair, one leg crossed,
his foot jangling to the death metal
blaring from my stereo,
smoking a cigar while
reading 'The Book Thief', when I returned.

"Alrighty then, let's leave," he said.
Thick smoke whirled around us
And the next thing I knew, there was another
Bang! and a curious Clang!
and we were standing in a town square.

"I get the bang, but what's with the clang?"
I asked, curious, following as he strode off.
"I pulled a prank on Santa once,
popped up behind him much as I did in your room.
Thought we'd have a laugh," he said sourly.

"The fat guy didn't like it at all,
And ever since then, every time I travel,
This bang and clang follow me.
Ruins my style, it does.
I'm usually all for silence and smoke."

"Where're we going?" I asked as we
turned into a deserted street.
"We're going to ***** out a tough old idiot.
He's escaped me for too long.
I'll have him this time for sure."

And from the folds of his robes he drew
A black saucepan and handed it to me.
I looked at him perplexed and he explained,
"We don't give out scythes to newbies.
This is the standard Reaper's 'pprentice's weapon."

Armed thus, he with the scythe and
I with the oddly reassuring saucepan,
We passed like vapour through a closed door
and floated to a bedroom upstairs.
Pretty impressed so far, I took a look at our prey.

He was a bald, thin, old man,
sleeping in this chintz armchair,
hands clasped around a rifle on his lap.
He was snoring, oblivious to the terror
that was us - the fearsome death dealers.

The Reaper's robes slithered over the carpet,
His step soft and graceful,
His eyes glinting with power.
And suddenly, the old man woke up
and started firing blindly.

I rushed for cover while the bullets
went straight through the Reaper
and got lodged in the wall.
I crept up behind the old guy
and banged him on the head with my weapon.

He crumpled, his body falling prone.
His spirit started floating up
and yet it tried to get back into its vessel.
The Reaper stepped forward and swung
the scythe, cleaving the spirit from the body.

He caught hold of that phantom
and brought out a large pouch.
Promptly stuffing the spirit into it,
he said, "A portal to Purgatory,
Hassle free way to deal with reluctant spirits."

We left the house and walked on.
We looked at each other and shared a smile.
Acknowledging with a nod the head rush,
the thrill, the coolness of our job,
We set off into the night for more.

I once asked a demon
who’d fled eternal night,
“Why did you flee the darkness?”
Its answer was, “the light.

My home lies far beneath me
is filled with nought but night.
It’s there I dreamt of fire
that knows the way of light.

Because my home was dreary
and filled with nought but dark,
I caught a glimpse of fire
and sought to catch its spark.

Because this home was measly
and filled with nought but night,
I left to meet that fire
and seek the way of light.

My home lay far behind me
When I’d left dark for light,
and stepped towards that fire
that burnt so bright at night.

My home lay far beneath me,
once I’d escaped the dark,
and stepped towards that fire,
To catch myself a spark.”

Then, I asked the demon
who’d fled towards the light,
“What did you learn from fire?”
It’s answer was, “it’s bright.

My home, so far beneath me,
had dimmed my measly sight,
as living deep in darkness
all one can see is night.

I went towards that fire
and touched the burning light;
living deep in darkness,
you don’t learn flames can bite.

They burnt my skin, let darkness in;
the dream had been untrue.
Fire’s not right, to light up the night,
to make me one of you.

“My demon friend, how did you then
become as one of us?”
Its reply lit up the sky,
the answer was, “I trust.”