Fussy John
John had eaten a bad egg, a really bad egg. Hungrily, he hadn’t thought about the mouldy shell or the green insides as he scoffed it down. John wasn’t a greedy child, he’d just skipped dinner and now it seemed he was going to skip every dinner there after. It was only when the grim reaper stood over him, with his flaming bright red eyes inside a smiley skull, that he realised how bad his mistake had been. “Jonathan Artgrave,” the booming voice came from within his own head, “your time has come and gone.” As the boney finger of death itself pointed towards him, the little boy with the stripey blue top gave an audible gulp, then a deep, wide stretch. As the reaper glided over to him, John asked the boney figure, “I’m too tired right now, can we do this later?” The dark embedded rings underneath the flaming balls of fury flared hot blue, then a dull ember,
“You’re tired!” Echoed the earthquake-like voice, “I’ve not had a break in 7 billion years.” As he said this, the floating white bones put his hand within, his cloak and pulled out chains blacker than night.
“What are those?” yawned John. The dark, overpowering voice in John’s head explained that nothing could escape these shackles, followed by a louder, deeper yawn than John’s.
"I'm only a kid, and this is a new mattress, you could take a half hour power nap," said John as he pushed the palm of his hand against the soft, inviting mattress. The all-seeing, almighty cloaked being could see what the little boy was suggesting and the bed did look softer than the clouds of Olympus.
"I suppose, a quick nap could actually make me more productive," giggled the jaw of Death, as he let himself be wrapped in the gentle power rangers duvet.
As Death fell asleep, a cunning plan crept its way into John’s mind. “These shackles can hold anything,” whispered John as he put them around the reaper’s wrists.
Silently, John put the ancient, dusty creature in a sturdy, oak cupboard. After closing the door, his mum walked up to him and she asked, “Where have you been, and what happened to those mouldy eggs,” John shrugged and gave a winning smile.
