In a gleaming conference hall the lights dimmed all the way.
The walls draped in black satin,
The audience on chairs of gray.
Death faced all the Reapers and this I heard Death say.
It has come to my attention,
Oh,
Do put your scythes away.
That after millennia of poems and art,
That is,
I mean to say,
Death just hated public speaking.
Turning grayer,
He swayed.
The humans have discovered their souls we do not steal.
A gasp swept through the Reapers.
This surely could not be real.
If you let me finish,
Great enjoyment you will feel.
The Reapers quickly quieted stashing cell phones in their robes,
Then lent their ears to Death again,
Including both their lobes.
We now have assistants,
Minions around the globe.
The Reapers seemed confused,
But gave an awkward cheer.
Who doesn't like to do less work?
Their cheers grew loud and clear.
One Reaper stood,
Then another chanting,
Minions,
Here,
Here!
It seems Death did continue,
As the Reapers took their seats.
That every human has one.
These assistants,
I mean.
Death read from some note cards,
Lined and neon green.
Death decided to jump to the point.
There was a really good buffet.
Death saw no reason to drag this out.
Anyway.
Fear is their name.
They haunt humans every day.
Now you may ask yourself how this does us any good,
But fear puts out their light better than we could.
It shuts them down and stamps their souls.
A pre-death,
If you would.
We all trip on these blasted robes,
And our scythes do weigh a ton.
But I ask you,
Death said,
Sweating now,
When your nights and days are done,
Think of all the work we'd do if fear didn't have its fun.
The humans would be peaceful.
Inner calm they'd find.
Violence would go down.
I say,
Doesn't that boggle the mind?
Their souls would shine like beacons.
And goodness would be divine.
Three cheers,
Said one reaper,
And the crowd surged with applause.
Death said resolutely,
We must support fear's cause.
Where the humans are concerned,
Fear must be their boss.
Now I suggest we avail ourselves on the wine and devil's food cake.
The swimming pools and tennis courts,
I believe,
Are calling my name.
And we all could use some sun.
Just be careful you don't bake.
Everyone applauded,
And clanking scythes rang out.
Death looked plain relieved that the note cards had run out.
Picking up the scythe,
I met Death in the crowd.
No one notices the caterers,
And I said this to Death out loud.
Thank you,
Child,
Death patronized,
For all this food and drink.
I'll see if we can leave you alone for several decades.
Death winked.
I punched Death in the shoulder,
Which made Death stop and think.
Oh,
I don't worry about you,
I said.
May I top off your drink?
Your speech was nice,
I said to Death.
Bet you're glad it's done.
I mean,
Said Death,
Giving speeches?
Who considers that fun?
I think you hit it well,
I said.
The fear that owns your tongue.
