Conditional Reality

Death brought his scythe to Petunia Funnybone Clownface for sharpening. Been busy lately? said Petunia. Death waved his hand at her. It's harvest season, he said. Tools get dull. Petunia laughed and pulled a mask over her face and applied Death's blade to her spinning grindstone. Bright orange sparks billowed up around her. Ever get tired of it? said Petunia. Ever think about doing something else with your life? Death sighed. I tell you, he said, no one appreciates the work I do. I have half a mind to give up the grind and start an emu ranch in Nevada.