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Death was just about to leave the office when he noticed the sticky note on the office fridge left by his boss:
//"Don't forget to do something __nice__ today!"
- Satan//
[[Death sighs heavily.|Hub]]<center>
<<timed 2s>><img src="http://ethanthibault.xyz/images/DeathDoesSomethingNice_Logo.png" width=600 alt="Death Does Something Nice!">
<<next>> A dark comedy about Death meeting a quota by Ethan Thibault
<<next>><<goto "Start">>
<<endtimed>>
</center>
<<silently>><<set $endings = 0>><</silently>><img src="http://ethanthibault.xyz/images/DeathDoesSomethingNice_Logo.png" width=600 alt="Death Does Something Nice!">
<<nobr>>
<<if $endings <= 4>>
You've played $endings of 5 branches.
<</if>>
<<if $endings >= 5>>
You saw all the branches! Thank you so much for playing!
<</if>>
<</nobr>>
[[Play again?|Start]]
A small comedy twine by [[Ethan Thibault->http://ethanthibault.xyz/]]
The awesome logo is by [[Emily Muller->http://emilymuller.xyz/]]
Check out the prequel, [[Satan Does Something Nice!|https://wickedlyethan.itch.io/satan-does-something-nice]]
{{{This Twine was made in Twine 2.0.10 using the Sugarcube format version 2.12.1. Special thanks to Emily, Delton, Nick, and Alex.}}}Death [[donates.|Donation1]]
Death tends to his [[garden.|garden1]]
Death [[delivers.|delivery1]]
Death writes [[important words.|Eulogy]]
Death [[takes a friend.|Adoption1]]It's sunset by the time Death reaches his plot in the community garden. The soil is packed densely with colorful flowers of all shapes and sizes; they give Death a [[sense of peace|garden2]] when he looks at them.Death was winded from going up the thirty flights of stairs that took him to the roof of the county hospital. A pile of smoldering scrubs lay at his feet, but he couldn't really enjoy the smell of fresh smiting - he was feeling old and brittle.
And then the ex-person's pager went off.
[['"Aww, shit."'|delivery2]]Death has a file called "HATERS" - it's for the damned souls who had no family on Earth when their time came. Also they were jerks. Death gets to write their obituaries.
He sits down in his favorite chair with a drink and has [[fun with it.|Eulogy1]]At the local strip-mall there's a white van with a red cross on it parked, a worn banner flapping in the wind:
//"Donate Today! Help Save a Life!"//
Death chuckles at the [[irony.|Donation2]]Inside the mall, on a little stage where locals impersonate St. Nicholas around the holidays, there's a dozen mortals in line, eager to drain their life source for the sake of altruism. This is going to take a while.
* Death [[waits in line|Waiting-in-line]]
* Death [[plays Time Crisis 2|TimeCrisis2]]
* Death [[comforts a child|Child]]Death waits in line.
<<timed 3s>>And waits.
<<next>>And waits some more.
<<next>>Still waiting.
<<next>>Death starts to hum "Still Doing Time" by George Jones.
<<next>>Death remembers killing George Jones. That was a good one.
<<next>>How long could it possible take to stick a needle in some fleshy mall-rat and take a few CCs?
<<next>>Oh my gooooooooooooooooooooooood this is taking forev-
<<next>><<goto "Donation3">>
<<endtimed>>
<<silently>><<set $line to true>><</silently>>Over in the aging arcade there's a screen-burned //Time Crisis 2// machine. Death picks up the cracked light gun and whispers:
[['"Hello, my old friend."'|TimeCrisis2-2]]Away from all the blood-letting, there's a little boy on a bench, swinging his legs nervously.
"Whassup, kid." Death says.
"I'm afraid of needles," the little boy replies.
"Oh man, that's fair," Death says, sitting down next to the child. He seems nice enough, in his Buzz Lightyear sneakers and thrift-store pastel polo. There's a hint of a bruise on his forearm.
"Needles are fucking scary. I'm made of ''bones'' and I'm not a fan."
"Are you the Grim Reaper?" the boy asks.
"Bingo."
[['"Can you kill my step-dad?"'|Child2]]Death freaking ''loves'' //Time Crisis 2//. It's just a good god-damn game.
The cover system is still satisfying 20 years later, it's bright and colorful, and frankly these two unnamed agents have a higher bodycount than Death has in years - nowdays there are people in the field to handle this kind of mowing-down of humanity.
Death misses the old days. 1997 was a [[good year|TimeCrisis2-3]] for him.Death completely forgot what he was doing here.
The arcade manager gives him a weird look. (But not that weird. It is a small-town arcade. Who knows what weird shit they see in here.)
Death leaves the arcade, in all its [[majesty.|Donation3]]
<<silently>><<set $time_crisis to true>><</silently>>
Death approaches the table for the blood drive.
"Hi, I'd like to donate blood. I've been told it's a nice thing to do."
The girl, a nursing student with spiky blue hair, looks up at him.
"Uhh... sure. We've got a couple of forms to sign, and we obviously need to know your blood type."
"Oh!" Death says. [['"No need to worry about that."'|Donation4]]Death turns to the kid. His little blue eyes aren't wavering.
Death pats him on the knee.
"Kid, I killed your step-dad a couple hours ago. [[Taken care of.|Donation3]] You're welcome."
<<silently>><<set $child to true>><</silently>>Death takes out from under his cloak a gallon glass jar filled to the top with a crimson plasma-protein mix.
"Sir is that a //jar//?"
"Yeah."
"A jar of... //blood//? How did you-"
"I just, uhhh, did it myself. Figured it'd make it easier for you folks. Just, uhhh, trying to do my part."
"Sir we can't accept [[jars full of blood.|Donation5]]"It's quiet for a moment.
<<timed 2s>>Death delicately puts the jar of blood on the table, staining the paperwork underneath and exposing for a moment his skeletal hand.
<<next>>He makes very deliberate eye contact with the volunteer.
<<next>>[['"I will remember you."'|Fin]]
<<silently>>
<<if visited() == 1>>
<<set $endings += 1>>
<<endif>>
<</silently>>
<</timed>>
"Your garden is beautiful!"
Death is startled by the sweet voice of a beautiful woman framed by the setting sun. She smiles warmly. If Death could blush, he would.
"Oh, it's nothing. Just a hobby. Something to pass the time."
"It's a wonderful thing, bringing so much color and beauty into the world. We need more of that nowadays."
Death, totally flustered, reaches for a flower without looking:
* //[[Aconitum variegatum|Garden3][$flower to "aconitum variegatum"]]//
* //[[Nerium oleander|Garden3][$flower to "nerium oleander"]]//
* //[[Conium maculatum|Garden3][$flower to "conium maculatum"]]//Death plucks the stem of //$flower//, <<nobr>><<if $flower is "aconitum variegatum">>a purple folded flower<<endif>><<if $flower is "nerium oleander">>a wide pink flower<<endif>><<if $flower is "conium maculatum">>a miniscule white flower<<endif>>, and gives it to her.<</nobr>>
Her smile grows even wider and they lock eyes, but just for a moment. As if she also knows how delicate this moment is she retreats, smelling the flower as [[she leaves.|Garden4]]Death forgot that every flower in his garden is outstandingly poisonous.
It was the last thing she [[ever smelled.|Fin]]
<<silently>>
<<if visited() == 1>>
<<set $endings += 1>>
<<endif>>
<</silently>>Death kicked the delivery door open, skeleton hands held high as if they were sterile. (They really weren't.)
"Alright let's do this thing."
The three nurses froze; the woman on the labor bed, sweating profusely, barely even flinched, concentrating on why the epidural had not kicked in yet, as the now-dead doctor had promised it would.
The nurses fled, dropping their supplies with a clatter, throwing their hands in the air.
The woman in the process of giving birth [[continued to glare.|delivery3]]"Did you kill my obstetrician?"
"Yeah. Yeah I did do that. My bad."
"Fine, then you're going to finish what she started. Be there to catch it when it [[comes out.|delivery4]]"The miracle of child-birth is a time-consuming process, Death learns.
Death gets [[queasy|delivery5b]].
"Oh man, that's just. I mean yeah. That's a head. Keep, you know, doing what you're doing. Aww jeez-"
"DON'T YOU DARE THROW UP NEAR MY VAGINA."
"FINE LADY JUST KEEP PUSHING LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH."
The woman, whose name was Laura as Death learned later when he asked for her number, let out a [[primal shout|delivery6]], like a Valkyrie in stirrups. In Death's hands is a beautiful, cherubic baby <<print either("girl", "boy")>>. It's covered in slime. It begins to wail.
[['"Ew."'|Fin]]
<<silently>>
<<if visited() == 1>>
<<set $endings += 1>>
<<endif>>
<</silently>>Doris at the local animal shelter knows Death and smiles when he comes in, tucking her reading glasses into her curly white hair.
Without saying a word, she takes out her ring of keys and leads Death to kennel [[in the back|Adoption2]].<<print either("Josiah", "Reginald", "Quintin")>> Smith, 47, did not go quietly into the night. No, instead he <<cyclinglink "fell from a fire escape into a dumpster, which was then lit on fire by no one in particular" "got into the bath with his favorite industrial heat gun" "tripped and chopped his own head off, but cleanly like it would be done by a PROFESSIONAL">>.
He was a <<cyclinglink "blood-sucking paparazzi" "woefully un-funny stand-up comedian" "hedge-fund manager">> all his life. He also definitely <<cyclinglink "lied on his taxes" "kicked at least one malnourished puppy" "refused free hugs">>.
Seriously, [[screw that guy|Eulogy1b]].The rows of cages go silent when they enter, and Doris puts on a jacket in response to the chill that settles whenever Death is near.
The dogs, old and young, back up on their haunches to the back of their concrete cages; some of them whimper. But [[not all|Adoption3]].A pitbull with big eyes and slate grey fur doesn't flinch. It has a couple scars along its torso, and one ear is missing a chunk.
Death crouches down, his bleached and ancient bones creaking like an old tree in the wind. He pokes a petrified phalange through the chain-link - the pitbull sniffs it before letting Death give a scritch-scratch behind its damaged ear.
Death sighs heavily.
"I'll take [[this one.|Adoption4]]"<<timed 2s>>Death opens the passenger-side door, putting his collapsible scythe in the foot well.
<<next>>The pitbull hops into the seat, smiling just a little bit.
<<next>>On the drive home Death looked over at the pitbull, who stared out the window like it had seen everything in the world before.
<<next>>"So what's your name gonna be?" he asked the dog.
* [["..."|Adoption5][$input to false]]
* [['"*woof*"'|Adoption5][$input to true]]
<<endtimed>>"<<nobr>>
<<if $input == true>>
Agreed.
<<endif>>
<<if $input == false>>
I appreciate your input.
<<endif>>
<</nobr>>"
Death decided the dog's name was Daisy. He hadn't met a dog named Daisy yet.
He pulled into his long gravel driveway, up to a modest split-level ranch, and let Daisy out of the car. She sniffed cautiously. Death reached the front door and [[braced himself.|Adoption6]]"Nailed it." Death says, pleased. He pours himself another <<linkappend "drink">>, a //morgue-a-rita//, if you will<</linkappend>>.
[['"On to the next one!"'|Eulogy2]]I, Helga Meep, died <<cyclinglink "this week" "recently enough for you to care" "in the most inconvenient place you can imagine">>, and am f**king //pleased// about it.
I hated <<cyclinglink "children" "marshmallows" "zoomba">>, <<cyclinglink "jazz music" "fresh linens" "the color mauve">>, and <<cyclinglink "miracles" "hope" "elves">>. I am survived by the human race, which doggedly refuses to peter out like I had planned.
[[Continue|Eulogy3b]]Death [[passes out on the couch|Fin]], a peaceful slumber knowing that he did the right thing.
<<silently>>
<<if visited() == 1>>
<<set $endings += 1>>
<<endif>>
<</silently>><<print either("Timothy", "Eugene", "Mortimer")>> Fredrickson, 92, passed away <<print either("last Wednesday", "this upcoming Saturday", "on the most recent Tuesday")>>, having spent his life <<cyclinglink "working for a faceless corporation where no one knew his name" "being incredibly rude to waitstaff" "tap dancing his way across the West">>.
He is survived by <<cyclinglink "his asthmatic capybara, Gerald" "the dust bunnies under his sagging couch" "his poker buddies, who burned his chips in respectful effigy">>. He always hated flowers, so please instead send <<cyclinglink "raw steak" "absinthe" "spare IKEA parts">> to your local charity in his name.
[[Continue|Eulogy2b]]Death is rather drunk by this point. He [[keeps going|Eulogy3]].Out the door came a herd of dogs - a fluffy family that Daisy was now a part of. Death smiled.
[['"Welcome home."'|Fin]]
<<silently>>
<<if visited() == 1>>
<<set $endings += 1>>
<<endif>>
<</silently>>