A Little Known Fact About Ducks

Heaven's Greatest Deity

"Afternoon Geoff," he said, a waver in his voice.

If Death had any expression he would have scowled at the podgy, red faced man but instead sat passively, red pin pricks of light peering out from under his cowl.

"It's Death now, Marty, and I'd appreciated you calling me by my proper title."

Marty swung the door open, shimmying sideways to get his wings through the narrow entrance.

Yes, of course, sorry Geo...Death," he replied slowly.

The Angel stood a little hunched, nervously shifting from one foot to the other in front of Death's desk, eyes darting around the room trying desperately to avoid his Boss' stare.

"Sit down please, Marty," Death said, calmly. Though, with a voice that could literally curdle milk, it was hard to tell what expression he was showing.

Marty lowered himself onto a stool, sighing.

"Look, before you say anything, let me explain," Marty started, but Death cut him off, raising a bony hand to his old friend's face.

"Before you start with yet another implausible and frankly preposterous excuse let me say something Marty. We have known each other for quite some time, yes?" Marty nodded vigorously. "Going on a couple of millennia by my count, and in that time would you ever say there has been an appropriate time that I could have been labelled stupid?"

Marty frowned sensing a trap but eventually, slowly, shook his head.

"So, bearing that in mind, beware," Death said, raising a white, thin finger. "I am not in the mood for that to change."

Death could see Marty's wings quiver, now and again a loose feather drifted to the office floor. The Angel sat several seconds before responding.

"Well, we honestly left in plenty of time but when we arrived at the Pearly Gates, Saint Peter was no-where to be seen, all there was was a sign saying 'Back in 5 Mins' and as Peter is the only one with a key and the gates were locked there was no way we..."

"Enough," Death screamed, causing the office, thirteenth floor and the whole building to shake. His coffee mug rattled along the desk, falling to the floor, smashing into a hundred pieces. Death rose to his full height, towering above the now visibly shaking Angel, crimson eyes flaring in the deep shadows of his skull. "I have had enough of you and your incompetence, Marty. We may be old friends but tell me why the hell I shouldn't tear you limb from limb right now and feed you to the Hell Hounds?"

"I...I...I really am telling the truth, Geoff...Death," he corrected himself quickly. "We were stuck there for over an hour..."

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Death cut in. "Are you trying to tell me that Saint Peter disappeared from the Pearly Gates, the only way into heaven, for over an hour and I somehow didn't hear about this?"

"It's kind of common knowledge the Peter has a little problem with the, well, you know," Marty whistled, making a drinking motion with his hand.

Death screamed, slamming his fist into the middle of his desk, putting his whole exasperated force behind the blow. The wood split in two, sending the two halves of the table crashing to either side of the room.

Then everything stopped. From below his cowl a dry, pinky, flake of skin fluttered lightly towards the floor. Both Marty and Death watched in silence as it danced in the air on it's way towards the ground. It landed delicately in the mass of splinters, eyebrow side up.

Death stared at what was now nothing more than a piece of hairy beef jerky, struggling to make some sense of the emotions that now welled inside.

"Leave now, Marty, before I do something dark and wicked to you," he whispered, or at least it was a whisper for Death.