"I'm trying to write something here..."

"I'M TRYING TO WRITE SOMETHING HERE, IF YOU DON'T MIND."

“Hello, sir.”

“Hello.”

“Ahem. I said ‘Hello, sir.’”

“And I said ‘Hello’ back to you.”

“You apparently don’t know who I am.”

“Don’t really care, either. I’m trying to write something here, if you don’t mind.”

“This is ridiculous. Will you at least look at me?”

“As soon as I’m done with this story.”

“Doesn’t it startle you in the least that I suddenly materialized out of nowhere and now I’m sitting here beside you on this couch talking to you?”

“Buddy, you wouldn’t be the first one. Considering all the illicit substances I’ve put in my body in the last forty years, you could be the Grim Reaper and it wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

“That’s funny you should say that, because I am the Grim Reaper.”

“Yeah, and I’m Stephen King.”

“You’re quite the smartass, aren’t you?”

“I try my damndest.”

“Okay, the hell with this ‘sir’ stuff. Angus, I’m here on some very important business, and I need your complete and undivided attention. Could you please stop typing for at least five minutes and look at me?”

“How do you spell ‘dialogue’?”

“D, I…what? No! Damnit, Angus! Stop typing and look at me! Now!”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Okay. I’m looking at you. What do you want?”

“Well, it’s about time. You’re one of the most difficult ones I’ve had to deal with since that snotty little Bonaparte character.”

“What do you want?"

“Angus, I really am the Grim Reaper, and I’m here to collect your soul.”

“Uh huh. Well, good luck with that. I’m an agnostic.”

“You mean an atheist.”

“Yeah, that too. Now will you let me get back to this story? I need to get it done by tomorrow.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Me neither. Could you hand me that dictionary?”

“Angus, whether you believe it or not, you do have a soul, and I’m here to collect it. It’s my job!”

“Look, dude. Maybe I did have a soul at one time, back in the day when my parents forced me to go to church every Sunday. Hell, I was even baptized and all that other mumbo jumbo.”

“Then you do have some religious background.”

“Did have. I grew up and renounced all of my religious connections.”

“But you did believe at one time!”

“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. Doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because, if you really must know, I already sold my soul to the Devil.”

“You couldn’t have, or I wouldn’t have been sent here!”

“There was probably some mix up in the paperwork. Happens all the time.”

“So the Devil already has your soul?”

“That’s what he said.”

“No. No, no, no.”

“Hey, dude. Chill out. It wasn’t your fault. Could have happened to anybody. You want a beer?”

“Yeah, why not? This collection has gone to hell, anyway.”

“Ha! Good one. Here ya go. Now could you hand me that dictionary? I think I misspelled ‘atheist’.”

For The "The Dialogue 500"  Contest

Word Count 491 (without title)