Death's Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Day

Just a regular day at the metaphorical office.

Death woke up, did his rounds, and came back to his home, right? Wrong. Today was going to be a terrible, horrible, very bad day for Death. He could just tell.

First off, his alarm woke him up an hour early. And that, considering he only got about an hour of sleep every night, was a bad thing.

Then his electric razor broke halfway through the shave. Also a bad thing. He didn't feel like having uneven stubble.

Then he cut himself with the straight razor. It went deep, and got blood all over the place. At least he got his shave done, though.

Then he tripped over his own wings. A very bad thing, considering that he could have broken them, and then he would only be able to travel and walk, which, considering how inaccurate traveling was, would cause him to be late, which was bad, especially if the Elders found out.

Then he banged his head in the doorway. That just hurt.

It was shaping up to be a terrible, horrible, very bad day.

His first, second, third, fourth...awww, buck it, most of his appointments were in Canterlot. He didn't like Canterlot. It meant he had to be closer to Celestia. He and Celestia didn't get along too well.

When he got to Canterlot, he was immediately bombarded by the shiny gold, silver, bronze, and random pastel colors throughout the city. He wasn't used to bright colors. He was monochromatic, himself.

He spilled coffee on his cloak. He liked the cloak, and it would have to be dry cleaned, in a very specific way so that the magical fibers didn't cause sudden nuclear fallout.

Well, turned out that Fate decided to screw around with him today, because she suddenly scheduled a small plague in the green district of Canterlot. Plenty of fatalities. More work for Death.

It was shaping up to be a terrible, horrible, very bad day.

As soon as he got to the green district, he noticed something. Celestia was there. He tried to cloak himself, but he didn't do it fast enough. She saw him.

"Hello, Awry," she said. "Fancy meeting you here. Rather strange, though."

Death sighed. This would not be fun.

"I agree. It is strange that you would meet me here, especially seeing as how there wasn't supposed to be a bloody plague in one of the most heavily populated parts of Canterlot today, but Fate sure seems to enjoy screwing with me, and making my job harder. How are you, anyways, Celly?"

"Do not call me Celly, Sir Awry Dusk."

"Well, we're both immortals, here, and you don't seem to care about titles, so why should I?"

"You are not an alicorn."

"So what? I'm Death, and Death just so happens to be a pegasus. That doesn't change the fact that we're pretty much equals."

"We are soooooo not equals, Awry. I am the queen of Equestria."

"I am the king of spirit gathering, and, technically, you are a princess. Try harder."

"I control the power of the sun."

"I can control shadows, and I'm in full control of harvesting."

"...I can use magic."

"What do you think all of the crap the Elders gave me is? What, cloaking, seeing, traveling, harvesting. Try again, Celly."

"Well...I'm thousands of years old!"

"We both know I'm older than you, if only by a couple hundred or so years. I was already two hundred thirty when you were born! In fact, I was doing my job. I was there."

"...Fine, Awry. We are effectively equals. Just don't get all cocky about it...you were at my birth?"

"Yes. I don't feel like talking about it. And I promise not to get cocky like all the other thousand times we've had this conversation."

Celestia cringed at the memory of all those other run ins, or possibly at the fact that Death had been there at her birth.

Death smirked. "My point proven. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do. You just quarantine this so I don't have to work even harder. I'm not having such a good day. Oh, and say hello to your sister for me. At least she's reasonable."

And with that, he cloaked himself, and walked into the green district.

Eh, maybe this day did have a few highlights.

The first thing he noticed about the plagued district was the lack of dead bodies everywhere. Must not be a particularly nasty plague. Maybe he could get off easier this time...wait...no. Death was sensing spirits. A lot of them. So much for easy.

Unfortunately, Fate had him especially in mind, as she made the virus hang around the air and dampen his, and only his, magical senses. Great.

For lack of a better method, Death resorted to searching house to house, harvesting whatever spirits he found. Now, lucky for him, this is not a very morbid task. He simply passes the spirit along into the afterlife. Simple...ish. It was a rather annoying job, too, especially when the spirits didn't want to go, which happened nine out of ten times.

This time, it just so happened that the rich, snobby, stuck up and spoiled rotten ponies that inhabited most of the green district didn't want to leave their 'hard earned' riches behind. Death actually had to leave a few in Limbo, to walk Equis for all eternity.

It was shaping up to be a terrible, horrible, very bad day.

Well, now that he was done here he could go sort out Fate's mess over at the rapid transit station. She accidentally set up a loaded train to crash into the chestnut processing plant instead of the empty one she should have destroyed. Twenty possible unscheduled deaths. Dear Elders, Fate, how horrible could you be? But the upside of this was that he would be able to see her face when the Elders told her off. She would lose a whole level of independence. They might even make her traveling as inaccurate as his! That would serve her right.

Death would rather not have to clean up after her, though. Twenty...he didn't like two digit numbers when it came to work. It was a bad thing. And from the report now floating in front of him, his terrible, horrible, very bad day wasn't over yet...