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Description
Death's Birthday

Now you're probably sat (or stood) thinking; "These people are totally and completely mad. What on earth are they going to write about?" [Well, the way you phrased it in your head was probably less grammatically correct]. Hear us out on this one. After all, surely reading this is more appealing than doing homework.

Death, being more real than Life and having a fulltime job, doesn't get out that much. Whittling down the long years Death has existed, you'll find when he came to be. In fact he appeared when the very first single-cell organisms popped up. Depending on your beliefs on how we came about changes his age quite dramatically, so we'll just say he's very, extremely old and leave it at that. Due to his old age people do tend to forget his birthday. He doesn't blame us, he's nice like that. But this year is different, this year a group of friends decided to make him a cake to celebrate his birthday. Unfortunately they ran into a series of problems in doing so.

The group of friends in question is made up of the following characters;
The pirate that everyone loves to hate and has been voted the worst pirate in history several years in a row, Miguel Beryy.
Voted the best wingman of the year, the wise but young wizard known as Wolkig.
The ladies man of the century; a real playboy and all round assassin, Phocas A. Ssassin.
Winner of best moustache on this side of the Andrew Sea and the charmer of men, Amenhotep XXII (Amen for short).
And last but not least Meeb, Death's pet. He, or possibly she, is a furry, furious and very fluffy pink pompom [careful; it bites].

Now let the misadventures begin!

After one serious trek to Death's house and after waiting countless hours for Meeb to get the key through the letter box, they were finally able to begin the preparations for Death's birthday bash. Phocas and Wolkig managed to open the door, which had warped over the years and was stuck tight in its frame, and the draft from opening the door lifted all the dust present in the hallway. Death really needed to invest in some cleaning products.
"Wolkig, I'm not sure that I want to go in there." Miguel moaned.
"You can stay out here, all alone. In the graveyard."

Our four brave souls entered Death's house, although Miguel was clinging onto Wolkig's arm. Wading through the carpet, they made their way to the living room. It wasn't much of a living room. Every flat surface [including the ceiling] was covered in empty bottles, full of various and unknown substances, items and liquids. On investigation of the endless number of rooms, there was a running theme of mass clutter and disorganization, so they decided to tidy up a little. During this Miguel tripped over Meeb and fell down the steep, stone steps into the cellar. Thankfully, Wolkig is good at mending broken bones.

The next task was to bake a cake. This may seem a simple job to do, but with four men in the kitchen it was bound to go wrong.
"Pass the flour Amen." Asked Phocas.
"Actually I think this is bone dust."
"Ah. Close enough."
"Miguel! That's salt not sugar!"
"I thought salt was a type of sugar," mumbled Miguel.
"Don't worry Mr. Assassin; you won't be able to tell the difference after we put a few dozen bottles of rum in."
Unfortunately things only got worse thereafter. For a start when they opened the oven door after it had finished cooking the cake literally sprinted out. They managed to catch it, but only after Miguel had stepped on it and Meeb had eaten a large hole through the middle. After doing a serious botch job at 'fixing' it with a large amount of chocolate icing, the cake once again crawled off, leaving a trail of icing behind it. It's not such a bad thing that it escaped again. The sheer amount of alcohol that's in it was enough to make them feel tipsy just looking at it.

After the mayhem of creating the cake Miguel and Meeb were sent out of the kitchen, while Wolkig, Amen and Phocas made fruit punch for the party.
"He must have some fruit somewhere," Phocas muttered to himself while throwing open cupboards "Oh dear gourd! Why?" He staggered back. Pure fear was splashed across his face.
"What's wrong Phocas?"
"J-j-jam jars!"
Wolkig sighed, "Come on Phocas, you'll be alright."
But it was too late; Phocas had already shrunk into the corner with a bottle of vodka. Phocas wasn't the only one in the kitchen drinking. Amen had used the fact that Wolkig's attention was on Phocas to sneak a 'taste' of the punch. Alas Amen tipped the punchbowl a little too much and ended up having an alcohol shower. This would have been fine if Miguel hadn't then burst into the kitchen with a slight problem on, or rather in his hands.
"Guys, I may have accidentally, somehow set Meeb on fire… But he, ummm… she? Seems to be fine."

Meeb slow jumped out of Miguel's hands, onto the floor and skidded straight into the puddle of various alcoholic beverages. Well, you can imagine the result.
Death returned home after another long day at work. He definitely wasn't expecting to return to find his house on fire, but life is full of surprises. He noticed the four figures loitering in his graveyard. Amen, his drinking buddy, seemed to smoking and rather charred, probably also caught fire then. Phocas was laughing to himself; completely drunk then. Miguel was covered in shoot; most likely also having a nervous breakdown then. Wolkig seemed no worse for wear, although he looked worn out and fed up. Meeb was rolling around; her usually pink fur had turned to a deep maroon and was still smouldering slightly, luckily he still seemed to be fine. Something warm and sticky rolled over Death's foot. He bent down and picked up the chocolate cake.
"Best. Birthday. Ever!"

The words assaulted the ears of our four fellows. Three of them turned to look at the seven-foot tall skeleton wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. Phocas just chuckled to himself. There was a 'thud' and a 'splat', Death was now lying, face down on the ground. Thankfully the cake broke his fall. Meeb took it upon himself to lick all the cake off her master.

It should be noted that;
Phocas woke up the next morning covered in chicks and with a terrible hangover.
Wolkig and Miguel took a short holiday after the event.
Amenhotep XXII entered in a nearby moustache competition and won first prize.
The cake is currently in custody after committing several crimes involving eggs and jam jars.
It was also the first time, in a very long time that Death had spoken a coherent sentence.

Description
Death's Birthday

Now you're probably sat (or stood) thinking; "These people are totally and completely mad. What on earth are they going to write about?" [Well, the way you phrased it in your head was probably less grammatically correct]. Hear us out on this one. After all, surely reading this is more appealing than doing homework.

Death, being more real than Life and having a fulltime job, doesn't get out that much. Whittling down the long years Death has existed, you'll find when he came to be. In fact he appeared when the very first single-cell organisms popped up. Depending on your beliefs on how we came about changes his age quite dramatically, so we'll just say he's very, extremely old and leave it at that. Due to his old age people do tend to forget his birthday. He doesn't blame us, he's nice like that. But this year is different, this year a group of friends decided to make him a cake to celebrate his birthday. Unfortunately they ran into a series of problems in doing so.

The group of friends in question is made up of the following characters;
The pirate that everyone loves to hate and has been voted the worst pirate in history several years in a row, Miguel Beryy.
Voted the best wingman of the year, the wise but young wizard known as Wolkig.
The ladies man of the century; a real playboy and all round assassin, Phocas A. Ssassin.
Winner of best moustache on this side of the Andrew Sea and the charmer of men, Amenhotep XXII (Amen for short).
And last but not least Meeb, Death's pet. He, or possibly she, is a furry, furious and very fluffy pink pompom [careful; it bites].

Now let the misadventures begin!

After one serious trek to Death's house and after waiting countless hours for Meeb to get the key through the letter box, they were finally able to begin the preparations for Death's birthday bash. Phocas and Wolkig managed to open the door, which had warped over the years and was stuck tight in its frame, and the draft from opening the door lifted all the dust present in the hallway. Death really needed to invest in some cleaning products.
"Wolkig, I'm not sure that I want to go in there." Miguel moaned.
"You can stay out here, all alone. In the graveyard."

Our four brave souls entered Death's house, although Miguel was clinging onto Wolkig's arm. Wading through the carpet, they made their way to the living room. It wasn't much of a living room. Every flat surface [including the ceiling] was covered in empty bottles, full of various and unknown substances, items and liquids. On investigation of the endless number of rooms, there was a running theme of mass clutter and disorganization, so they decided to tidy up a little. During this Miguel tripped over Meeb and fell down the steep, stone steps into the cellar. Thankfully, Wolkig is good at mending broken bones.

The next task was to bake a cake. This may seem a simple job to do, but with four men in the kitchen it was bound to go wrong.
"Pass the flour Amen." Asked Phocas.
"Actually I think this is bone dust."
"Ah. Close enough."
"Miguel! That's salt not sugar!"
"I thought salt was a type of sugar," mumbled Miguel.
"Don't worry Mr. Assassin; you won't be able to tell the difference after we put a few dozen bottles of rum in."
Unfortunately things only got worse thereafter. For a start when they opened the oven door after it had finished cooking the cake literally sprinted out. They managed to catch it, but only after Miguel had stepped on it and Meeb had eaten a large hole through the middle. After doing a serious botch job at 'fixing' it with a large amount of chocolate icing, the cake once again crawled off, leaving a trail of icing behind it. It's not such a bad thing that it escaped again. The sheer amount of alcohol that's in it was enough to make them feel tipsy just looking at it.

After the mayhem of creating the cake Miguel and Meeb were sent out of the kitchen, while Wolkig, Amen and Phocas made fruit punch for the party.
"He must have some fruit somewhere," Phocas muttered to himself while throwing open cupboards "Oh dear gourd! Why?" He staggered back. Pure fear was splashed across his face.
"What's wrong Phocas?"
"J-j-jam jars!"
Wolkig sighed, "Come on Phocas, you'll be alright."
But it was too late; Phocas had already shrunk into the corner with a bottle of vodka. Phocas wasn't the only one in the kitchen drinking. Amen had used the fact that Wolkig's attention was on Phocas to sneak a 'taste' of the punch. Alas Amen tipped the punchbowl a little too much and ended up having an alcohol shower. This would have been fine if Miguel hadn't then burst into the kitchen with a slight problem on, or rather in his hands.
"Guys, I may have accidentally, somehow set Meeb on fire… But he, ummm… she? Seems to be fine."

Meeb slow jumped out of Miguel's hands, onto the floor and skidded straight into the puddle of various alcoholic beverages. Well, you can imagine the result.
Death returned home after another long day at work. He definitely wasn't expecting to return to find his house on fire, but life is full of surprises. He noticed the four figures loitering in his graveyard. Amen, his drinking buddy, seemed to smoking and rather charred, probably also caught fire then. Phocas was laughing to himself; completely drunk then. Miguel was covered in shoot; most likely also having a nervous breakdown then. Wolkig seemed no worse for wear, although he looked worn out and fed up. Meeb was rolling around; her usually pink fur had turned to a deep maroon and was still smouldering slightly, luckily he still seemed to be fine. Something warm and sticky rolled over Death's foot. He bent down and picked up the chocolate cake.
"Best. Birthday. Ever!"

The words assaulted the ears of our four fellows. Three of them turned to look at the seven-foot tall skeleton wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. Phocas just chuckled to himself. There was a 'thud' and a 'splat', Death was now lying, face down on the ground. Thankfully the cake broke his fall. Meeb took it upon himself to lick all the cake off her master.

It should be noted that;
Phocas woke up the next morning covered in chicks and with a terrible hangover.
Wolkig and Miguel took a short holiday after the event.
Amenhotep XXII entered in a nearby moustache competition and won first prize.
The cake is currently in custody after committing several crimes involving eggs and jam jars.
It was also the first time, in a very long time that Death had spoken a coherent sentence.