WP - “The Grim Reaper is getting old. He needs some extra help on the job so he hires an unpaid intern.”

Grim leaned back in his chair as the cloudy smoke he called his feet, danced and fluttered about. Puffing on a cigar, and alternating between a glass of scotch and a Playboy.
The intercom buzzed online with a beep, “Sir your ten o’clock is here.”
Grim sighed of terribly profound frustration, “Denise I told you to synchronize the clock over there,” he coughed, and sipped the booze, “once they go through the portal the timezone changes! The underworld is ten hours ahead of you!”  
There was a moment of silence, an epiphanic monument for Denise, realizing her ability to literally change the time. The silence was voided once more by the beep of the intercom, “synchronized sir.”
Grim stubbed out his cigar in anger, jumping to a stand with his hands in the air, “well that’s just great Denise but I still need an intern and because you can’t tell time properly you just sent that last candidate into a gaping abyss for the rest of eternity!”
“And I need a facelift honey, but you don’t see me belly-aching,” Denise replied vacantly, clearly filing her nails at her desk on the other end of the phone.
“I can’t see you at all you mouth-breathing, vile woman!” Grim exclaimed, as he craned his neck down into the ashtray and snorted from the pile of cigar ash, for an extremely good reason. 
“Well stop bragging about how all-powerful you are, all the time then,” Denise yelled back, the cheap China-made phone system buzzing with static. 
Grim slammed the intercom button with his fist, a ghoulish black skeletal mass, “you realize I can just kill you right!”
“Sure honey, sure you can.”
Grim’s office flashed purple before he could wittily respond, and the popping sound of the portal decompressing, followed.
“Hello,” the mysterious voice called out, eerily hidden by the smoke the portal unnecessarily created. 
“Denise what’s going on?” Grim spoke without letting his eyes wander from the smoke’s reveal of The Intruder, forgetting to hold the intercom button down.
“Hello!,” the intruder squealed again, a pre-pubescent sounding screech. 
The Intruder was small height wise, his feet looked as if they were simply knees with shoes underneath for a comedic illusion. 
Grim leaned against his desk with both hands, and peered down at The Intruder.
“H-hey I’ll call security on you,” he stuttered, as he met The Intruder’s ferocious and hungry eyes.
“So about that internship” The Intruder asked as intimidatingly as possible through his masterful extortion methods, pounding his fist into his palm.
“You’ll have to do a trial,” Grim stuttered, blinking excessively to convey his disbelief of The Intruder’s inter-realm travel, “and by the way it’s an unpaid internship.”
“Who do you want me to kill?” he smiled a sharp smile, “I don’t care about the money I do it for the kill.”
Grim looked to either side of the empty room with an exaggerated caution, as if crossing the street in front of his parents, and covered the intercom speaker with both hands.
“Denise the secretary. Find her at Google™ headquarters.”
The Intruder nodded, and without a second’s hesitation leaped back from whence he came so quickly that he caused a rift in time which made it appear as if he moved in slow motion.
Grim’s jaw, on the account of him being a spiritual entity and not human, was on the ground.
“So badass,” he whispered to himself.
Minutes passed, and soon the minutes turned into more minutes.
“Maybe he got struck in traffic,” Grim whispered to himself, pulling up the inter-realm traffic reports on his laptop. 
After finally deciding to go after The Intern-Intruder Grim stood up and twirled his raincoat on. But then the intercom turned on once more, “you’ll have to do better than that,” Denise spoke, her thick Bostonian accent laced with a malice so great it made Grim’s goosebumps grow goosebumps.