“Could I get something else instead?” Death asks, after chewing and swallowing one bite of eggs. They push the plate towards you.

“Do you want some toast?”

“Would you stake your life on making the best toast possible?”

You look at the clock. It’s past 5 pm. “Buddy, you didn’t like the eggs I made because you don’t like eggs. We’re technically closed now. I won’t charge you for the eggs, but you gotta go now.”

The Grim Reaper sighs for a long while as they get up from the stool. “Fine, but your service leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Well I hope we don’t do business again!” you shout as you flip the sign to CLOSED.

A notification arrives on your phone. The Grim Reaper posted a 1 star review that just reads “awful service.”

THE END