It's kind of like Santa Claus, he's really got millions of helpers all over the world. And so it is with Deaths. There are thousands of them, all working their routes all over the world.
Irreverent. Funny. Total wackadoodle. Silly. Silly again just for good measure. Pythonesque (which the author even nods to on occasion). These are just some of the first thoughts that come to mind - where thoughts do tend to congregate - about Frank Edler's "Death Gets A Book", um, book. A quick but highly amusing read, Edler takes us on a tour of the death business - and yes, it is a business as we even meet a Death accountant, namely, The Grim Bean Counter along the way. No, if you've arrived looking for a treatise on Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal", then you're in the wrong place. Try back at the pub. You'll know you're in the right place if you hear a bunch of frat boys screaming about whoever took their midget away.
Anything that made Vincent content made Wanda irate. Husbands should live to please their wives not themselves.
Our story starts out following Vincent and his total hag/nag of a wife Wanda as they make their way through the seedy back streets of Tijuana. You can tell almost from the first paragraph that these two are in every way imaginable utterly and totally doomed. It also doesn't help that it appears they are the only two people in any hemisphere not to know what a Donkey show entails, so again, bets are off that these two somehow survive. I mean, once Juan throws off his robe to reveal his leather bikini bottoms and leather pasties with leather tassels, you know to back away from la pareja condenada! Oh, that's Mexican, um, I mean, Spanish for "the doomed couple".
I don’t know a thing about Deathing! And I have no idea why you have pelvis envy!
I'll not spoil the splattery goodness that follows, but needless to say, their separate trips to the hereafter are full of all kinds of fun. Vincent - who is henceforth known as Vincent Death (clever, that!) at least finds himself now a member of what can only be called the Death squad (oops, they're actually The League of Deaths, my bad!), though not in the sense of keeping our jungles and other locales safe for the drug trade. No, it seems there isn't just one Death and soon we get to know among others the helpful and always boisterous Cowboy Death (no doubt intended to be played by Sam Elliott in the movie version), Midget Death (is it typecasting if we go with Peter Dinklage?), Salem Death (hm, who would look good being constantly taunted and teased by witches?) and even La Petite Mort, who despite references to the contrary, is not just the embodiement of orgasms nor here to promote a new line of monster truck-driving G.I.Joes. Trust me on that former bit… or ruin your own search history, your call.
You are Death! You can’t shit anymore! What good is thinking on the shitter going to do you?
The various Deaths have their skeletal hands full so to speak because it seems that even in death (small d), misogyny rules. Yes, the Deaths are all Dudes with big D's (ahem)… which means that dead women if so chosen become Banshees. That's right: the screaming-meemies of Irish lore are in fact the (im)mortal enemies of the Deaths and a war is brewing. And guess who is the nastiest new Banshee on the block? That's right: Wanda returns in all her glory to try and ruin anything and everything Vincent sets out to accomplish if for no other reason than, well, she's Wanda. Seems then that if Vincent can NOT get things fixed, he will be banished to the eastern block of Limbo, where all the "bad" deaths go to be punished. And by punished, that means his soul will be erased. It's kind of a weird thing to imagine, especially with all the giant-headed Babies mucking about. Did I mention this a weird book? Yeah.
It was his very first job and she fucked it all up. Even in death, she was ruining his life.
Needless to say, things seem to get way out of control but thanks to some targeted killing by Vincent Death (can Death do that?) and a convenient cough drop, our heroes (???) save the day. And Charon, too. Heck, even love prevails and Vincent can, um, live out the rest of his days with the girl of his dreams (the whole falling in love and wooing bit takes about 2 minutes). Edler also provides a wee short story (is that redundant?) at the end that is also equally insane that along with the ending of the novellette gets a wee bit uncomfortable as he actually includes real people that we'd rather not see die just yet. Just an opinion there.
Death felt tears of joy well up inside his empty body. He had killed the woman he loved.
So if I were you and not just Death Reviewer (no, that doesn't work, nevermind), I'd go into your reading of this fun-sized snack of a story without either your thinking caps on nor your serious expressions either. It is surely meant to be fun and light-hearted (or light-headed, not sure) and for me, it was a fun distraction on an otherwise "nothing good on TV" Friday night. Yes, I eventually regretted not having a few drinks BEFORE I started but I'm not sure my brain could have handled the additional jostling about. And yeah, the editing (oh gods, is he going to be serious again?) isn't all what it should be, which gets a bit distracting - including the ultimate sin: a mistake between "your" and "you're"! - but hey, sometimes you just got to go with the flow. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put on my Tattered Black Robe™ and try to sneak in a beer or three before my wife gets home from shopping. I'll probably hear her shrieking before she gets here anyway…