A Dialogue Between Myself &; Death

Myself: Ingmar Bergman did it.

Death: If Ingmar Bergman were to jump under a bus, I would not allow
you to do that either. And Ingmar Bergman did not "do it" - he is not
dead, unlike yourself; it was merely an occurrence in a film he
directed, The Seventh Seal.

Myself: Just because I'm gonna beat you.

Death: I will not play chess for your life however much you goad me, so
I suggest that you acquiesce and follow me.

Myself: How do you know about The Seventh Seal anyway?

Death: I have seen it. Three times.

Myself: You've seen The Seventh Seal? I haven't seen The Seventh Seal,
and I have eyes in my sockets.

Death: I am eternal and omnipotent. I must pass the time somehow.

Myself: How could you be impotent? You're made of bones!

Death: I understand.

Myself: You get it? 'cause a "boner" is another word for-

Death: It is most humorous.

Myself: I know. If I keep talking will you build up a backlog of
deaths? They tend to happen quite regularly. Am I keeping other people
alive by not coming with you?

Death: A backlog would be impossible to avoid without omnipresence.
While I am talking to you I am talking to many others also. I may also
be watching The Seventh Seal again, although that is unlikely. We must
move along now.

Myself: Well if you won't play fair and let me beat you at chess,
you'll have to carry me to wherever it is we're going.

Death: That is not possible. You must come willingly.

Myself: What if I don't?

Death: We shall remain here until you do.

Myself: So I don't die?

Death: You are already dead.

Myself: So the point of this bit is what exactly? Why wouldn't I just
get zapped right up?

Death: You are given this time to compose yourself before
proceeding.

Myself: I bet. Proceeding to where?

Death: I cannot say.

Myself: Aw c'mon Death, we're all friends here. I promise I won't tell
anyone before I go.

Death: I do not know where you will be taken.

Myself: That's because you're an ordinary human being in a badly made
cloak, right?

Death: I merely hand you to the relevant authorities when you
relent.

Myself: Can you tell me how I died?

Death: I cannot.

Myself: Some omnipotence. Do you expect me to believe that Death can't
even tell me how I died?

Death: I am prevented from observing the moment of death so as to
ensure emotional detachment from my job, and to avoid the creation of a
hierarchy of death in any potential cloud-based afterlife.

Myself: Meaning?

Death: There is the possibility of cliques being created amongst those
who died in similar ways. Suicides may be discriminated against.

Myself: Oh my God...you have got to be kidding me.

Death: It is merely a potential occurrence in a hypothetical afterlife.
You should not let it affect you too strongly.

Myself: Wouldn't there be a hierarchy anyway? I doubt if Marylyn and
JFK hang out with dweebs like Milton or Blake.

Death: It is not my place to speculate.

Myself: It wouldn't be. I think I'll stay here for a bit. Hang
out.

Death: Very well.

Myself: If you've watched all those movies, why do you speak like
that?

Death: How do you mean?

Myself: "Very well", "It is not one's place", "How doth ye mean". You
should be speaking like Tom Hanks. Or Snoop Dogg.

Death: One likes to keep up appearances. I would hate to be mistaken
for Famine or Pestilence.

Myself: What about War?

Death: War speaks with a very grand accent.

Myself: Is this supposed to be some kind of alternative comedy?

Death: I assure you it is not.

Myself: "War speaks with a grand accent"? You sound like a sixth
formers diary.

Death: I apologise.

Myself: Nice place they dropped us in. Very picturesque.

Death: "The lake glistens in the curve of the valley
Like the eyes of a loved one shining brightly"

Myself: I didn't know you were a poet.

Death: There is often romance in Death.

Myself: Okay now, stop that...