As you read, you hear an invisible orchestra begin to play, and an unseen tenor sings, "Jeepers, Creepers, Where'd'ya get them peepers, Jeepers, Creepers Where'd Ya get dem eyes?" You've heard of singing telegrams, but singing letters?
Then again you've got a magical job, you look back at the letter as you hear "Where d'ya get dem eyes?" The voice and band continue, but you tune them out. All you can do is stare, "... your new job will make you a reaper." A reaper? Like the Grim Reaper? The reaper of souls? Nah, that can't be, the Reaper doesn't protect, it doesn't grant wishes, it just kills people.
You read on as the musical accompaniment grows louder and more ominous. You feel chilled to the bone as you read on.
"Please find enclosed your official Reaper Identification Card, and your new uniform."
"Uniform in an envelope?" you ask your voice sounds deeper and hollower than usual. You pull out the laminated photo identification. You stare at the photograph.
"Where did they get this? I didn't pose for...fu--" you gasp as you watch your photograph begin to change. Your face goes ashen, then becomes a rotting corpse. You stare at your fingers which are molding and slimy with ooze, and then turn a leathery brown as they mummify and turn to dust. Gleaming white bones are holding your Identification Card, and the photograph on the card is of a fleshless skull in a black robe.
A black shadow slips from the empty envelope and grows and envelopes your skeleton and solidifies into a ghastly black robe. You are the Grim Reaper it would seem. You feel the power of eternity flowing within your being. You are no longer a man, you are no longer bound by the laws of men, or time or space. You are out of time, as are those whose souls you collect.
You clip your ID card to your shroud, and notice that there's writing on the back of the card.
"Have scythe will travel."
"I'll reap no man before his time."
"R. I. P. Reapers International Phalanx --The Official Union of Soul Collectors. "We're not just a legion-we're a phalanx." Death benefits include 4 week paid holiday, 35 hour work weeks, and double time for overtime. RIP Local 86, 1313 Usher House Road, Necropolis, Georgia. (666) RIP-DEAD."
You mutter, "What scythe?"
There is a rush of air, and you raise your bony hand to catch the black scythe rushing to you.
There is a clap of thunder. You have the power you are the Reaper-well, at least a reaper. A card-carrying member of the Reaper's union.