Losux- DeathLOSUXDeath

. When the bell rang, Sven was in the middle of an online game of Worms World Party.

"Please, not to me, not to me," he repeated in his mind, simultaneously checking the wind speed in the game.

"Sven, to you, honey!" his mother shouted.

"I'll be there in a moment," he replied, and focused on the monitor. "Take it easy, Sven, take it easy."

His opponent had two more worms, he only had one. However, his opponent didn't know that Sven had a super banana bomb, which could end the game in a moment. One good throw was enough. He was getting ready to press the spacebar and release a grenade when the door to his room burst open. Sven jumped in fright in his chair, accidentally pressing a button with his thumb. Without even checking who had entered his room, he stared numbly at the screen, examining the yellow banana lying next to his worm.

"Take it easy, take it easy.

" "Sven! Help! Sven!" I'm dying! As if to confirm these words, a loud explosion came from the speakers, and Sven's last worm flew far into the clouds.

The boy turned abruptly, then stood up from his chair and looked at the Snowman standing opposite. A year ago, he wouldn't have believed there would be a talking pile of snow (star lard, he corrected himself mentally) in his room, but since he'd entered high school, nothing could surprise him anymore.

"You're going to die right now. Do you know who I was playing with? It was Mister Kaszanka, no one had ever beaten him. And all I needed was one banana and a moment of peace!" He glared at the Snowman. "A moment of peace, is that so hard to understand?

" "But I'm dying!" the newcomer objected.

"I'm drowning." "But you're made of star lard. You're not drowning!

" "Then look at me! And while you're at it, give me some water, my throat is dry."

Sven complied and looked at his friend. He actually seemed shorter than usual, and the lower sphere he was made of had flattened considerably. Behind the Snowman was a wide, greasy strip, on which Sven slipped and nearly fell onto the stereo, which was playing the new Green Day album.

"What the fuck?" the snowman asked furiously, watching the boy try to regain his balance. "You tripped on my lard! Give me that water, right now!"

"Or maybe the flower one," Sven said, handing his classmate a dirty plastic bottle half-filled with water.

"You know it doesn't do that," the snowman replied, and filled his magic mug, which turned any liquid poured into vodka, with the liquid. "Well, slosh!" he said, and unceremoniously swallowed the contents without flinching.

"Maybe it's the dreadlocks?" Sven asked mockingly.

"Don't you fucking laugh!" the Snowman replied, "or I'll hit you in the face with a bottle of rhino urine."

Sven grimaced in disgust. He'd already smelled the nauseating contents of the bottle his friend carried, so the threat seemed utterly terrifying.

"What's that for? Maybe the flu or something?

" "Does it look like the flu?" the Snowman asked, holding a lump of lard in his hand. His coals, the one not covered by the pirate's loincloth, were filled with terror. "Do you have any idea what it could be?"

Suddenly, the bell rang again from the hallway. The boy and the Snowman froze in anticipation until finally, their mother's voice rang out:

"Sven, for you!

" "I actually came for the snowman," the mysterious visitor explained.

They heard the door closing, and then Sven's mother:

"It's the door across from you, with the SUM41 poster on the window."

"Honey, when will the eggs be ready?" the boy's father asked.

"It's already cooking! And ma'am, please come in."

The snowman and his friend stared intently at the doorknob. Finally, the door opened. A rotting woman in a black coat entered the room. She held a massive scythe in her hands. The snowman immediately jumped after Sven, accompanied by the sound of lard dripping freely onto the floor.

"Sven, please, save me! Please!"

Death pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his black coat and examined it intently. Then he turned his rotten eyes toward his friends, who were slowly retreating to the corner of the room, and asked in a sepulchral tone,

"Which one of you is the One-Eyed Snowman from Outer Space?

" "It's him," they shouted simultaneously, pointing at each other.

Sven looked at the snowman accusingly, but he just spread his arms limply, as if to say, "Well, that's life

, man. We had a costume party and we dressed up as each other," the snowman said, and Sven watched him helplessly.

"Is that true?" Death asked.

"No," Sven finally spoke up, "the one behind me is the snowman, I think it's pretty easy to tell.

" "Not true! Not true! I categorically deny it!

" "Well, I guess there's one way to find out," Death said.

The high school students watched her carefully, simultaneously trying to back away. Even though there was only a wall behind them, Death stood still, and the blade of her scythe began to shine brightly into their eyes. The students closed their eyes, and when they opened them again, she was standing before them.

"Tara Patrick! Take me now!" the snowman shouted, staring at the beautiful brunette in the black robe. "Take me here!"

For a moment, Sven, too, couldn't tear his gaze away from the full, feminine curves visible beneath the black robe. But after a moment, he regained his composure.

"Wait!" he shouted, trying to catch his friend. "This is an illusion! This isn't her!

" "Tara! Tara! Take me now!" The Snowman fell to the floor in excitement and crawled towards the Grim Reaper. "Take me! I'm yours!

" "I don't doubt it," she said, her voice as dark as before, completely out of keeping with her new form. "Oops," she corrected herself, her voice soft and lustful. "Sorry. Are you the Snowman?

" "Me! Me!" the possessor of a body made of star lard shouted in ecstasy, until Sven covered his mouth and took over. "It's not him!"

"Then who?" Death scratched his head, exposing her graceful, bare, olive-skinned breasts.

"It's me! It's me!" the Snowman tried to shout, but Sven slapped him on the head and said for him. "I'll call him right away. He's not here, but I'll call him and he'll probably come over."

"I think he's your friend," she said, pointing to the snowman, who was kissing her feet hungrily.

"He reacts like that to any woman who isn't six feet tall." Sven tried to improve the tragic situation.

"No, it's me!" The snowman sabotaged his friend's already inept attempts. "Take me! Tara, take me!

" "Idiot, complete idiot!"

Death was about to swing his scythe to cut the star visitor clinging to her feet when a crazy thought occurred to Sven.

"Wait, what about the game law? You could bet your life on me, right?"

Death looked at him in disappointment, then began to revert to her original form. Her complexion was turning deathly pale, and the beautiful face of the porn star collapsed, revealing the beige bones of her skull, clad only in shreds of old, rotten skin.

"I'm not a fucking necrophile!" the Snowman shouted, jumping away from the transforming creature. "Although, maybe. Tits are paler, but still." Suddenly, Death's breasts sank inward, revealing bare ribs, which convinced the Snowman that it would be best to retreat a few meters.

"Oh no, you had to remember that," Death groaned. "Okay, choose a game.

" "Worms!" the Snowman said without thinking.

"Worms," ​​Death interjected, a demonstrative centipede emerging from its eye socket. "I love worms."

Sven merely shook his shoulders.

"As you wish, your choice," he said, watching the senile hands touch his keyboard. "Maybe you could take your previous form?

" "Kids," Death growled, and then transformed back into a porn star. "Step away from me, pervert, or I'll cut your head off on the spot." No game!" she shouted, immediately afterward as the Snowman began kissing her feet again.

"Easy, easy, why all the stress?" the Snowman said regretfully, moving away from her legs to take a seat in front of the monitor.

"Shall we have something to drink?" Sven suggested.

"I'd love to, the changes in my astral structure are also increasing my thirst," Death said. "I'd like some water."

"Snowman, you heard me, hand me some water," Sven ordered, then added with a knowing wink at his friend, "in your cup.

" "In your life! You'd better run to the kitchen and get something yourself! I won't let even Terra Patrick touch my cup!

" "In yours!

" "Fuck you!

" "Idiot!" Sven shouted, slapping his head. " Do as I tell you.

" "No, that's not necessary anymore." Death cautiously interjected. "I don't want to anymore.

" "Snowman, do as I tell you!"

This time, however, instead of resisting, Snowman carefully handed Death the magical vessel filled to the brim. The woman who routinely took people's lives put the rim of the blue porcelain to her lips and drank in one gulp. Her face twisted into a strange grimace, and then she began to choke loudly.

"What was that? I asked for water!" She looked as if she wanted to behead them right there and then, finally, cut her own olive neck as well. "It was supposed to be water!"

"I poured you free vodka and you're complaining?" the Snowman exclaimed, refilling the cup Santa had given him.

"No, that means," Death felt her head begin to spin and forgot what she wanted to say. "Could you pour me some more?"

The Snowman hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly handed her the cup. Death politely thanked her, then gulped down the entire shot of vodka. This time, she didn't choke for a moment, much to the impress of both high school students.

"So what game were we supposed to play?" she asked, handing the Snowman the cup to fill.

"Fuck," he grumbled, about to snatch it from her, but Sven's frozen gaze politely poured the water. Death immediately poured the liquid into himself, then hiccupped happily, shaking the mug.

"I'll go get some water," Sven declared, turning his gaze toward the exit door. "For now, you have this!" he shouted, throwing the soda toward them.

"If you can't have what you like, you like what you have." Snowman uttered a lifelong motto and poured the apricot-peach drink, bought at a nearby store for fifty złoty, into the mug, which instantly transformed it into vodka.

"Mom, hand me a pot," Sven shouted as soon as he reached the kitchen.

"Is this enough, honey?" Mom asked him, holding the mug in her hand.

"Not too small," Sven criticized her. "Better hand me the big six-liter one."

- But will you take your friend to the bus stop later? - she asked, clearly concerned, filling the largest pot with tap water. - Your friend was recently wandering around the park for three days.

"Easy, I'll take him to the bus," Sven replied, taking the full pot. "Thanks, Mommy. "

As he was leaving, the doorbell rang again from the kitchen.

"I'll answer," he shouted, setting the pot on the ground. "Who's there?" he asked, opening the door.

"Hi, Sven," his friend stood in the doorway, wearing a red mask. "Hey, we were supposed to go burn ants with a magnifying glass today. I tell you, they're pretty hardcore when they sizzle!"

"Oh, hi, Tom'ash, listen, I have a little problem at home and I completely forgot about it.

" "I see, Snowman?

" "How did you know?

" "And what good would a big pot of water in the hallway be to you?" Tom'ash stated more than asked, entering the apartment.

"Hey, did I give you permission to come in? I don't remember." Seeing that his friend was completely ignoring him, he added. "But you do it at your own risk.

" "What's there to be afraid of?" Tom'ash asked, standing in the doorway to the room, which Sven had opened.

"Look ahead.

" "Zenia!?!!" he shouted cheerfully at the sight of Death sitting in front of the computer and the Snowman making a pass at her. "That's some serious hardcore!"

The Grim Reaper looked at him questioningly. Her gaze was dull, but after a moment, a glimmer of understanding flickered deep in her eyes. She quickly pushed the intrusive Snowman away from her and straightened her robes.

"Tom'ash, you devil's spawn!" she waved drunkenly, knocking over the scythe leaning against the desk. "It's been ages since I last saw you!

" "Snowman, what are you doing?" Sven asked, looking at the scythe's blade digging inexorably into the floor of the room. "Hey, watch out, or that equipment of yours will soon bore into the Mokickis!" he shouted warningly.

"But you ordered her to get drunk," the Snowman began to explain. "Well, she's already drunk." Now we have to take advantage of it! When he tore his gaze from the shapely bottom that Death had completely exposed as she reached for her scythe, he saw his friend standing in the doorway. "Oh, hello, Tom'ash."

"Hi. Hey, Zenia, I thought you were teetotal.

" "Because I am," she hiccupped loudly. "But they got me drunk!"

"Wait, you two know each other?" Sven broke in, sitting on the couch and admiring the impressive hole in the floor made by the falling scythe blade.

"Well, you could say we went to kindergarten together," Tom'ash replied. "And how's my old man doing? Have you seen him lately?

" "He's got a ton of work," Death said indistinctly, interrupting his sentence every few moments with loud hiccups. "They ordered them to install cash registers downstairs, and now every deceased person has to have their own number." Red is getting incredibly angry because his place is incredibly busy, while the one upstairs is deserted.

- Cash registers? Pretty hardcore. He'll have work when the apocalypse comes.

"Excuse me, what are you talking about?" Sven felt very confused. "Me and Snowman would love to know what this is all about.

" "Don't fucking talk for me!" Snowman said indignantly, filling another cup from a pot of water. "I just want a drink.

" "I'd love to know what this is all about," Sven corrected himself teasingly.

"That's better," Snowman admonished, completely absorbed in downing another shot of vodka.

"Tomah, get some light because I'm not drinking well," Death said, making a silly face.

"Pretty hardcore. She's so drunk I don't understand what she's talking about.

" "She seems to be saying 'Tomah, explain because I'm not feeling well,'" Snowman explained, an expert in drinking slang. "I think she's really screwed, my vodka has a delayed effect." He finished with undisguised pride in his voice.

"What's there to explain? He's a good friend of my old man's," he added after a moment's pause, "you could say from work.

" "Wait, who's your old man?" Sven asked, intrigued.

"Actually, he's the devil, but...

" "What?" Sven asked, surprised.

"What?" Snowman asked, spilling precious drops of vodka for the first time in his life.

"Hyyp," Grim Reaper confirmed with a cheerful hiccup.

"But I'm a normal boy and I'm looking for normal friends on Earth. I didn't admit it before because I thought you'd look at me differently.

" "Seriously?" Sven felt moved. "It really doesn't change anything. We'll still be your friends.

" "I'm kidding you!" Tom'ash shouted gleefully, joined by the drunken laughter of Snowman and Death. "That was some serious shit, I'm a normal boy. Take me home with you," he mocked himself. "I'm here waiting for a sign from my old man to start the apocalypse!"

"For what?" Sven asked quietly, rhetorically, directed at the ceiling, which, of course, offered no answer.

"And who exactly did you come here for?

" "For okie ana z—" she focused before uttering the next word, which brought significant success—"the cosmos. Le rawo yli i erasze ormsy play!

" "She came here for me, but Sven used the law of the game and now she has to beat us at Worms," ​​the translator said, pouring another shot of vodka.

"She is!" Death confirmed quite clearly, then fell over along with the chair.

"So you drank her and made her turn into Tera Patrick?" the son of Satan guessed, looking at the sexy woman in black as she clumsily rose from the floor.

"You're roughly right," Sven confirmed dryly, still offended. "Oh look, she's changing again."

The high school students looked together at Death, who was now alternately becoming a voluptuous brunette or a walking, female zombie.

"You're a real tough guy," Tom'ash commented on the situation. "And why did she come for you?

" "Why would I know? I've been drowning since morning and she finally came for me.

" "Because you were alive and the lists," Death explained.

"The list!" Sven shouted triumphantly. "Can you show it to us for a moment?

" "No, it's forbidden!" she replied with surprising clarity.

"But if my dad found out you were drinking on the job, you'd be in serious trouble." Tom'ash tried blackmail.

"Yeah! I'm as tough as nails!

" "For the list, I'll let you take a couple of sips from my cup.

" "You missed the point," Death capitulated and pulled a wad of paper from under his coat.

The snowman reluctantly handed Death, who now for some reason had taken on the appearance of their teacher, Mrs. Halfling, a blue cup and took the paper.

"Look at the name, and next to it, even the time and cause of death." Just like in the Łódź emergency room!" Sven joked, staring at the note they'd spread out on the table.

"Pretty hardcore.

" "Hey, my name's here!" Snowman shouted, taking a seat on a chair because he hadn't been able to reach the high countertop before. "What? I can't fucking believe it!" he groaned, pointing with his stick (which acted as a hand) to the space in the box next to his name, in the column marked "cause of death."

"Pretty hardcore," Tom'ash commented.

"Melting from too much vodka, the only substance that melts star lard." Sven read the words Snowman pointed out aloud. "Well, you're really screwed.

" "Not necessarily," Tom'ash said slyly. "Sven, do you have an eraser around here?

" "You want to tinker with the list?" The affirmative look from his colleagues was sufficient answer to Sven's question.

II

"But what if we went a bit too far?" Sven demanded, carrying the drunken Death down the stairs.

"Shut the fuck up and make sure she doesn't hit her head on the steps," said the snowman, supporting her back from below, since he was the shortest.

"Pretty hardcore," said Tom'ash, holding Death's legs. "Snowman, are you feeling better?

" "I think I've even stopped melting," replied the voice from beneath him. "Fuck, that bitch is heavy. So what? Like we agreed?

" "Yes," Sven agreed. "We'll drop her off at stop 207 and ask Blaise to push her onto the bus.

" "Sounds good," commented the snowman.

"Well, pretty hardcore," replied Tom'ash.

III

Death clutched her head again, looking at the list. It seemed to her that different names had appeared on it yesterday, but that was probably the result of a hangover. She explained the same thing to herself, explaining that a few names at the top of the list were written in blue ink, while the rest were in black charcoal. A hangover, she thought. "I'm not going to ask the boss who to cut down and who not to, because they'll fire me. What prospects do I have?" she asked herself. "Get a job at the harvest?"

She was at school. The thousands of noises were driving her mad. She wanted to shout at everyone to shut up, but by nature, she preferred to always remain hidden. She stood behind one of the high school students and looked at the list. She tapped him on the shoulder with a bony finger and asked politely,

"Excuse me, where can I find Karol?"

"It's me!" the boy shouted cheerfully, his tongue still hanging out of his mouth, almost reaching his chin. "Want to hear me play the flute with my sphincter?"

"I guess that won't be necessary," she retorted, quickly lowering the blade of her scythe.

Death became invisible and looked at her list. She made a cross next to Karol's name. She looked again at the cause of death, written faintly on the list—due to stupidity. It's not for me to judge, she thought, and scanned the other names: Director, Great Pine, Mr. Kaban, Hunchbacked Dzon, Mrs. Niziołek, Ziomisław Paliblant—and that's just the beginning. Well, today will be a very busy day," she sighed, and headed toward the director's office.