Ask The Grim Reaper
Posted by LOTGK on October 15, 2010
Happy Halloween Internet surfer. My name is the Grim Reaper. Many of you know me as “Mr. Death!” My job is relentless, I never tire, I never fail to reap the soul destined for me. Contrary to popular belief, I cannot be tricked, nor bribed, nor outwitted into saving your soul. And I do not look or act like Brad Pitt.
To clear up any misconceptions about me and the duties I perform, I will permit you to ask me one question, any question, and you will receive an answer. A true answer. You clock is ticking mortals, who is brave enough to face me.
Grassy Knoll Institute Operator: Mr. Death, we have Angela from Las vegas on the line.
Angela Asks: Angel of Death, are you a man or woman?
Death: Angela, I am neither, not man, not woman. I am an entity put on this Earth to reap the souls of the chosen.
Chrisopher From Topeka: Mister Death, this past year, you have taken away my favorite singer, Michael Jackson, my favorite actor, Patrick Swayze, and my favorite pin up girl, Farrah Fawcett. Just so you know, I voted for Obama.
Death: Christopher, you need not worry about President Obama. However, for all you Sarah Palin supporters….
Chuck From Dunbury: Why carry a sickle? Why not an axe?
Death: Chuck, that is two questions. However, why not! The sickle is a precision instrument. It’s ease of use and sharpness makes it easy to sever the soul from your body. With an axe, there would be to much hacking and blunt force trauma involved. I am humane after all.
Brian From Warwick: I watch the show Ghost Hunters all the time. They search for evidence that ghosts really exist. With their equipment, can the TAPS crew record or sense your prensence?
Death: Brian, No, they cannot. I am not a ghost, nor a spirit, but an entity designated to reap souls from the living, not from the dead.
If you have a question for the Grim Reaper, ask in the comment section below. But beware, you are asking Death itself questions. Are you brave enough to do so?
Happy Halloween – Samhain
LURKING, IN THE SHADOWS, ON THE GRASSY KNOLL