Part 1: What's dead is dead

Manny watched the car drive up. He ran up to it and climbed in. He caught his breath for a few minutes and asked, "what in caramba is going on?" The driver answered his question.

"Those dang cops. They found us out. And now they want our asses on a plate."

"Tough break," said Manny as he reloaded his sub machine-gun with another clip.

"We'll have to kill Santos. As long as he's alive, those cops have a chance of finding us."

Santos walked around in his office. He heard the phone ring. He picked it up. It was Manny.

"Santos, you're a smart guy," Manny said.

"Manny, I'm gonna have your head for my trophy."

"Not if you can't find my body. And anyway, the humane association will have you decorating kennels for half a lifetime."

"Where are you you son of a..."

"Now, now, harsh language won't get you anywhere. You want your merchandise? Bring six million dollars to the cemetary where you found your father. Adios amigo!" He put down the phone. Santos stood up and walked over to his suit case.

He picked it up and left.

Santos came up to his fathers grave. And there it was. The package that Manny was to deliver. Manny came out of the shadows with a gun.

"Where's my money," he asked.

"In the case." Santos gave the case to Manny.

"Thank you," said Manny. Then he heard a click. The sound of guns loading.

"I'm gonna get your ass some day," Manny said. Then he felt something in his back. Then another thing. Then another and another and another. Then before had time to feel the pain, he fell to the ground.

The sheet in front of Manny's face ripped open and a skeleton in a grim reaper outfit with a scythe said, "Hola Manuel."

"Who the heck are you?" Manny answered.

"The person who is going to take you away. Come with me."

"So let me get this straight," Manny said. "You work here in the land of the dead, selling travel packages to imigrating souls."

"Yes," said Paolo, Manny's travel agent.

"So what do I qualify for; you've told me the system, so tell me what I get."

"Well, Mr. Calavera," said Paolo typing things on his computer. "You get....... nothing."

"What!!!" exclaimed Manny.

"Yes, it says on your file, you've lived a dirty life. Three armoured car robberies, four possible assassanation attempts, destruction of one four story building, associating with big gang leaders, Manny, the only thing you quallify for is working for the D.O.D."

"Say what."

"You have to become a grim reaper."

"Oh boy," Manny said. He knew he wouldn't get a good time in the afterlife, but nobody prepared him for this. He walked out and went to the office of his new boss, Don Copal.

One Year Later

Manny sat at his desk reading the message he had got from his mail tube. It was from Copal.

Dear Mr. Calavera,

Thank that people die and get to your friggin

cars, murder of bank official, Hento Sankos

age 31. Good factors: opened a bank for peo-

ple without jobs, reunited five couples from

different places in the world. Calavera,

don't screw this one, will ya, you may be at

the top but don't mess something up, got it!

Yours Sincerely,

Don Copal

Manny got out of his chair and left his office. He had bagged another premium.

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