One day, Death decided to leave us. And he took all the children with him. We didn't know why.
He just left us a note, saying:
I have left,
And I have taken the children with me.
At first, we didn't really know how to react, so we merely exchanged confused glances. Some people might have cried.
Then someone spoke up and said, "Don't you see? This is a good thing! Without Death and children, we are free!"
And we all raised our hands in the air and chorused words of agreement.
It was the greatest of blessings.
Without death, we didn't need medicines or exercise or broccoli. Without death, we trespassed on private property, ate all the pork we wanted to and even shot each other just for fun. We didn't need doctors or politicians or priests. We didn't have to go to church because we weren't going to end up in hell anyway.
We didn't have to take care of the world because we were always told to make it a better place for our children. But now there was no one to make it a better place for. So we polluted the rivers and turned forests into racetracks.
We also didn't need to worry about sexually transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies anymore so we had sex with anyone, beautiful or ugly, anorexic or obese, man or woman. Everybody did it with everybody. We did it on streets, in video rental shops, or in the middle of the town square. We did it in twos, in threes and in fifties.
Yes, we were swimming in sweet, sweet pleasure.
But one day something dreadful happened.
Great balls of fire descended from the sky. Gigantic they were, big enough to destroy a cluster of buildings. We ran and we ran, but we could not escape. The fire struck us all.
They burnt us, and it was just so painful. We could all feel the flames penetrating our skin, but no matter how much it hurt and how much we wanted it to end, we just kept writhing in agony.
So we waited.
We waited for the pain to stop.
We waited for the firestorm to die down.
And we are still waiting for Death to come back.