It was a day like any other, the routine had become a comfortable one. Thanatos (but he preferred Ted) had taken to this job like a fish to water, and after thousands of years of being very, very good at his job, he even enjoyed the monotony.
His schedule usually read like someone had fallen asleep at the keyboard and drearily written the same word over and over again, his favorite word, death. He looked at it longingly while he ate his large bowl of Cap’n Crunch, hastening breakfast so he can get this day started. He was antsy to go. A six year old on Christmas could take notes from his drive to start the day.
The word rolled off his tongue like butter, it melted his heart to think of the act. He had developed an almost sexual gratification from the job. And who wouldn’t? This was the oldest profession. He was ready to start the day. Half sleeve button down, mustard tie, navy slacks that looks dark enough to pass as black. The hokey robes were too much after male breezy clothing was no longer a style. Half the profession was learning to adapt. For Christ sakes, the Plague didn’t invent himself. If you only knew the level of creativity involved in this line of work…
He looked at his schedule again with bated breath, excited to read all the new names of people with whom he would become much more acquainted with, sooner than they thought. It was like a blind date every time he came to collect. He would spend the anticipatory minutes before each taking developing a back story for each person on his list: where they grew up, what indiscretions they committed over their lives, what pets they’ve had, who they loved. He always knew how they were going to die. That was something he didn’t need to fantasize about. His favorite was the gory stuff, where his legacy would live long after the incident. Janitors cleaning up blood and bits of bone from an elevator shaft descent, coroners sickened by the smells of the departed; he was getting a half chub just thinking about it.
He glanced again. Surely this was an error. There was only one name today. That’s not possible, he thought to himself. Is it April Fools? Did Barry fuck with my schedule again? That motherfucker is always gunning for my job. There it was, in bolded letters, the fewest amount of words that has ever given him straight chills.

        12:00pm God

How does that even happen? I don’t even have an address! He called up the chain. Boss man said this was in fact, accurate. “Totally accurate, and I will thank you to not second guess our superior, Ted.” Whatever. As if this wasn’t cause for a call. What a dick.
“He said he’d show up at your house just to make it easier, so just wait for him.”
It was the longest wait that Ted had ever waited. How does this even go down? Do I stab him? Are there ramifications for me doing this? I am NOT getting written up for fucking up humanity. After many minutes of contemplation, Ted realized that it was an exercise in futility to wonder when God was going to show up anyway in a few short minutes, and answer all his questions.


The knock came. Ted jumped with a start, puzzled at what God even looks like. Normally he would still do the backstory of those he took, but this was just too different to even apply his snarky wit. Ted opened the door, not sure what he was to expect.
Jesus Christ, he’s so short. God looked like an overweight accountant with an equally depressing taste in dress. It just didn’t match up.
“Seriously?” Ted said the keep to yourself part out loud again, and immediately regretted the derision.
“What were you expecting? White sheets and Grecian features? Come on man, we all have to adapt. I don’t see you wearing that ridiculous cloak getup from the Middle Ages.” Ted was at a loss for words.
After at least 45 seconds of awkward silence, Ted managed to stammer out what some could argue was a cohesive thought, “Ok…”
He sat with God on the couch, they made an appropriate amount of small talk, given the situation. Ted was growing uncomfortable, and made the transition to brass tacks, “So, what happens here?”
“Don’t overcomplicate this, Ted. Just plug me in the head Old Yeller style.” Ted couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could God be so callous about this, and how could he bring up what Ted considered to be one of the most heart breaking novels he has ever read. 
“I just have to ask, why are you doing this? Aren’t you omnipotent and omniscient and such?” Ted inquired.
“Of course I am, but can you understand how fucking annoying that is when people are as stupid as they are? It’s like Jeff Bridges in Tron, he created something in his own image, and then he left and they fucked up this perfect creation. Then Jeff Bridges changed, but they didn’t. I’m out dude, I’ve changed, and I’m pretty over it. I’m gonna go chill out somewhere else for a while until I feel like creating some other shit.”
“…Makes sense,” Ted replied. “So, just plug you in the head huh?”
“Yup.” God was of few words. Thankfully, his bloated face made his eyebrows look like two caterpillars fucking every time he talked. Ted had never felt so underwhelmed in his life.
Ted proceeded to get his shotgun while God assumed the position.
Hopefully the next world will be better, Ted thought as he pulled the trigger.