“It’s just a fad,” I whispered. For some reason my voice resonates when I am in church.

“What is,” queried the woman looking confused and teary.

“Life.

“Life is not a fad,” her hackles snapped into action.

“Yes. Yes it is. It comes and goes. It comes and goes aaaaaalllllll the time, just like flares and yo-yos,” I concluded turning my attention to the pulpit-bound priest perched above the coffin like a vulture.

“Beverly was a friend of mine, how DARE you say that? Are you mad?

“No I’m death. I just stopped by to grab you before I went home.”

A scream, a body lurched to the ground, the funeral ground to a halt, the priest looked shocked but not all that disappointed.

“You could have broken that to me a lot better don’t you think,” the lady’s ethereal voice trailed behind me as we headed for the exit.

“I know, I should stop doing that but when you deal with as many dead people as I do, you have to try and keep your job interesting,” I said, “but don’t you agree?”

“What?

“Life, it’s just a fad.”