A Thank You Note from Your Final Friend, Death

This note was found folded and singed in a crushed pack of Lucky Strikes in a dead mall Santa’s boot.

Salutations, my oxygen-greedy tents of flesh!

I write to you with growing excitement as All Hallow’s Eve is fast approaching. I thought it important to show my appreciation for all the hard work you’ve put in to help me reach my annual quotas. I made every attempt to send my praise earlier, but your efficiency has me working even the graveyard shift. (See what I did there?)

To save my feeble finger bones from more writing than necessary, I jotted a quick list of gratitudes below. Please read them by candlelight with the sounds of tortured souls on the accompanying cassette for full effect.

[Editor's note: Cassette missing. YouTube can get you close enough]

Your lab-made foods are to die for 

How you’ve concocted sinfully sweet, fatty treats that create such devastatingly bitter results are naughty secrets of science! Your sugar substitutes, manipulated fats and organisms of modified perfection have me walking through Midwestern streets of America like a fat kid in a candy store. Keep up the good work, and tell those vegan hippies to go screw a tree--they’ll have as much luck changing people's diets.

Your ego’s like whoa!  

The artistry of your ferocious pride has led to more creative visits through my doors than any other vehicle. From steroid-soaked muscle heads to drag racing college kids, colorful stories never stale as your inventiveness in summoning new ways to impress yourselves and friends grows daily. Meditate on these words...

Money.

Fame

The hottie down the block.

...and go!

Land ahoy! 

While acreage abounds in my hometown, property is a killer where you come from. Whether it’s fighting for street corners or sandy stretches laying on black gold, thanks from the bottom of my ribcage for getting out the guns and standing for what you can stand on!

The clock is antibioticking

Not even Pestilence in Accounting could have guessed what wonderment antibiotics would have produced! For a while there, those damned little pills were wreaking havoc on our figures until the table finally turned. I put some cash on a few dates on the corpse calendar. Don’t let me down!

Stories of guilt & godliness 

Your fables of babies in clouds watching from above is adorably ignorant, but constantly explaining that thousands of virgins are not waiting to ravage your corpse is just exhausting. Your rigor mortis is showing! Decade after decade, we meet so many myth-believing followers that are ready to defend an old wives’ tale at a drop of a hat. Forgive me and my minions for not sharing your insanity, but we haven’t based our lives off fear for hundreds of years.

(Psst, the guy in the cubicle next to you thinks your God sucks. Reap your revenge!)

About Death: You may remember Death from his appearance in Meet Joe Black, played by the warm-blooded Brad Pitt. Other appearances include: The Tales of Beedle the Bard, your dreams, and the hit TV show Sleepy Hollow. Follow him on Twitter @TheRealMrReaper.