Homer Grim Reaper

pinshape

The Grim Reaper himself walked into Moe's Tavern, his black hooded cloak fluttering behind him like a dark cloud. Behind the counter, Barney Gumble looked up from his latest beer and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, can I help you?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that Death was standing right in front of him. The Grim Reaper smiled, revealing razor-sharp teeth. "I'm here for Homer Simpson," he said, his voice low and gravelly. Moe stepped forward, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. "Oh, you mean the guy who's been eating donuts all day? Yeah, that's our Homer." The Grim Reaper nodded, his hood bobbing up and down. "That's the one. I've been sent to collect him." Homer looked up from his latest snack, a bag of stale chips. "Who are you?" he asked, his mouth full. "I'm Death," said the Grim Reaper, his voice dripping with menace. "And you're going with me." Homer swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear. "Uh, can I just finish my donut first?" The Grim Reaper chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound. "Sorry, Homer. Your time is up."