Jack Pimlico looked Death in the face. “You again” he said, and laughed. Death looked back at him.
“This can not go on,” he said. “Sooner or later you will pass away, then I can do my job” Death was not a towering skeletal figure with a scythe and a black hooded cloak, as you might assume. The suit was a dusty black alright, but Death looked like a dumpy middle aged businessman, short enough that most men could see the top of his bald head.