Lift Heavy Serve God

 

Death held the elevator to the 4th floor for the two little white, haired women that moved slowly. The other two were already waiting for her. 

"Well ladies I hope all your appointments go well and we don't meet in the same room."

The long hallway looked freshened, brighter artwork and cleaner walls. Deaths strides were long, with her back straight she moved like a cat on a hunt. Her white and taupe oxfords tied tightly to her feet. Her gold button down shirt loose over her blue denim pants, folded up with 3 inches of her ankles showing. 

"It doesn’t matter what the doctor said, he’s not allowed to see anyone.”

The man that shouldn’t be there. His neck and face clay red from the blood pumping. His heart muscle working over time. His shirt stretched across his meaty and uber-thick shoulders his torso fit and trim ‘Lift Heavy serve God. He looks like he might be easy to push over, top heavy. He let his ego control his system and now his system is out of control. 

Another man too young to be there, blood in his urine, Death can smell the disease. He’s been confused for awhile. He’s looking to figure things out and is having a hard time making connections.

2 other men, that shouldn’t be there. 

The tall zinnia next to Death had started her slow wither. A mask over her face thinking it will slow down her time line. A victim of a lifetime of liberal choices. Her name was the one on Death's report. 

 

Ringtones of quacks and alerts. 

"I'm implementing the plan dad!" Death called to her Father.

"I'll meet ya there." With a tone of strength he replied.