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#bad puns

In honor of Sir Terry Pratchett. Did I write this fic just to make puns about Death? Yes, yes I did and I won’t apologize. AKA Klaus meets Death from Discworld and no one believes Klaus when he says Death is just an anthropomorphic being with a weakness for puns and cats.

When he’d told Ben about the mausoleum and the nightmares all those years ago Ben told him it sounded like he’d seen the grim reaper. They’d spent the next two weeks digging through the library to find everything they could about the skeleton. It wasn’t much: a bunch of artwork, vague biblical references to Death and a bunch of folklore. All they really learned was that according to every source you don’t want to meet them.

Klaus may have been terrified down to his core but that never stopped his mouth from moving, “Aren’t you going to take care of that? One dies every minute or something. Chop chop no time to waste.”

He was half-joking, half talking to himself and one hundred percent sure this was one of the worst ideas he’s ever had.

Death’s unnaturally blue eye sockets fall on him. Klaus squirms nervously under the gaze as the skeleton’s gaze drifts back towards the ghost of the old woman smiling fondly as she floats next to the little girl.

TIME YOU’LL FIND IS RELATIVE. BESIDES THEY’RE ABOUT TO CUT THE CAKE; IT’S CHOCOLATE.

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