The Soul Harvester
The following is 100 percent true.
by Dave McAwesomeWe're all going to die. Maybe not this second, but sometime (and sooner than you might hope). In the event that the Big Nothing might turn out to be a Sisyphean eternity pushing boulders up steep inclines over and over and over, some of us have opted to prepare.
One of these "afterlife survivalists," my friend Rhodian, has taken to collecting souls. That boulder's gonna be heavy. Why not harvest the immortal souls of the living via legally binding contracts to do the grunt work for ya? Rhodian currently has two souls more than you or me. Check it out:
In case that's too small to read, it says, "I, Vanessa (last name blurred to protect the damned), give my soul to Rhodian (last name blurred to protect the harvester) for (1) one fruit and walnut salad." In a rare act of self-awareness, she adds a second item to the price of her soul: one small fries. "That should cover it," she thinks absent-mindedly as she signs her life away. At least she got more than four dollars worth of crappy food for the fate of her eternal afterlife. Katie was less savvy.
A bag of Doritos was her price. Apparently, massive wealth, incalculable success or dizzying happiness were beyond the limits of her stunted, MTV-addled imagination. Before she retires to bed each night, her "To Do" list reads, "Doritos? Check." What a nice, ignorant life of endless bliss she must lead. Obviously, she had second thoughts and tried to void the agreement by crossing out the word "soul." As we all know, any changes to a written contract must be initialed by all parties involved. The pact holds. In a fit of icy rage, she tore the document in half. Thank you, Scotch Tape, for your adhesive, restorative properties.
Rhodian's would-be third soul was a bit of a trickster. He signed in red ink. Contracts signed thusly are not binding (although blood ought to be an exception). You're a wily one, foul Trickster. You still have your soul, but you cannot cheat Death.
Personally, I'm not much of a soul collector. I will face Death alone and with a fistful of baseball bat. He will take me, but not before I'm ready. Rhodian, however, is still recruiting his army of immortal souls. If you aren't using yours, email me and I'll forward it on to him. That boulder, if you recall, is pretty damn heavy. Help the dude out, won'tcha?
