This story was originally written for GumonShoes Writing contest a while back but, for various reaosons wasn't completed in time. Instead of just letting it sit idle I decided to finish it off ( Still not happy with the end) and post it here. Enjoy :)

Hippies, Communes and Death? Oh My!

As offices go, there were certainly more enjoyable environments to be in. All there was in the room was a single table directly in the middle of the room, and a potted plant in the far corner. The table was arranged in a manner that bespoke a great deal about its owner. Each pencil was meticulously placed in order from biggest to smallest, the coffee mug, bearing the insignia, Tidily Winks world championship 1964, was positioned so that when someone was sitting at the desk working, it was at the optimum distance to allow for easy access to its contents, but far enough away so that if it were spilt said contents would not damage the papers which were in a neat pile at a comfortable distance to allow for the neatest hand writing. The inclusion of a name plate at the front end of the desk indicated that the owner took great pride in his clients knowing exactly who they were dealing with. It also indicated that the owner of the desk was named 'G. Reaper' who, at this very moment, by some fortuitous circumstance was walking through the door located behind the desk on the far side of the room, right next to the pot plant.

He was a small man though he walked with the purposeful stride of someone who was...well lets be honest, trying to compensate for their lack of height by pretending they're more important than they actually are. Mr Reaper was the sort of man who, upon hitting middle age, would purchase a sports car thinking that somehow this made up his unattractiveness and the continuation of the aging process...well, he would have been the sort of person who'd have bought a sports car if he existed on the material realm. As it is, he doesn't, for Mr Reaper doesn't exist. Not physically at any rate...not entirely. He is but the personification of an idea, an anthropomorphic entity if you will. The more astute among you upon hearing this will be thinking that if he is an anthropomorphic entity then what idea does he personify? Let me tell you...

As Mr Reaper walked into the room he reached behind the potted plant, which I must add, as potted plants go was an unusual colour as it was totally black, like everything else in the room for that matter. He pulled out a scythe seemingly from nowhere and as he strode forward his suit seemed to extend to his feet, and a hood rose up over his head. His eyes began to glow a dark red, throbbing, as it were, in the darkness that now concealed his face. It truly was a menacing sight...or it would have been if he hadn't tripped up on the hem of his robe and fell flat on his face.

'Dress code be damned!' he murmured to himself as he lay their on the floor.

Suddenly, the robe, the scythe and the hood all vanished leaving Death, to use his official title, lying on the floor wearing a ruffled shirt and breeches. It was a somewhat unusual combination by modern standards, but when you exist beyond space and time itself following fashion can be quite difficult. As such Death had long ago reverted to utilising the form of dress he felt most comfortable in. The days of appearing before people in the aforementioned robe had long since past. Nowadays when appearing on the material world he had to appear in his suit anyway. Apparently it set a good precedent for customer service. Death had never bought into the idea that the customer was always right. When you work with those who have recently died and they absolutely insist that they can not move on into the afterlife due to a pressing engagement with their dentist one tends to develop a degree of cynicism towards the customer. Sadly for him however, the owner of the company for which he worked, Universe Inc, had recently got into the whole customer service deal. This wouldn't have been that bad, God didn't tend to get involved with the little details and was happy to content himself with smiting unbelievers every now and again. Satan however...

As it so happened, it was at this very moment that Death was pulling himself up off the floor and the door behind him swung open again. In the door way there now stood a tall man wearing a well pressed suit with the label sticking out of the back, undoubtedly purposefully placed there so those walking behind him could see the designer branding. His shoes were polished to the point where you could use them as a mirror. This was probably a symptom of the mans own arrogance, for he walked with a small smile curling up on the corner of his mouth as though he was about to enjoy some despicable act of torture. Quite frankly, he probably had just come from a despicable act of torture, his favourite at this moment being to tie up TV executives and force them to watch Barney the Dinosaur to let them know EXACTLY what they have unleashed upon the world. Truly, this man was pure evil.

'Grim!' he cried out in insincere excitement. He spoke with the cheery tone that made most sane people go...well...insane. There are very few words that are capable of describing just exactly what was wrong with Satans persona but thankfully all that is required to be said is that Grim's day was not getting off to a good start.

'Grim! Grimmy grim grim grimgrim!' joked Satan as he pulled his employee up by the arm, jerking him to his feet in one swift motion.

'Hows it going Death?' he inquired with a toothy grin plastered onto his face. His teeth sparkled. His teeth always sparkled.

'As well as can be expected,' replied Death somewhat uneasily. Satan was only ever happy when he had bad news to deliver, so Grim decided to grab the bull by the neck so to speak and find out exactly why he was here.

' Have you got some new orders for me? Is God finally putting a stop to this customer relations nonsense?' he enquired, knowing fully what the answer would be.

' Grim! You know better than that! The big man upstairs likes to give all new ideas a good period of time to work themselves out.'

Satan sat himself down on the edge of Grim's desk and picked up a pen. Grim visibly winced as he watched his orderly system of placement crumble apart in Satan's clawed hands.

' Grim,' said Satan in a rather more serious tone than before whilst still playing with the pen, ' I'm sure you're aware that recently the entirety of the companies workforce has been under surveillance to determine the quality of the product available to the consumer...'

'What?' interrupted Grim, ' Nobody told me this!'

'Didn't they? Well, I wouldn't worry about it. Though I will say Grimmy boy, a one man conga? Most inspiring,' chucked Satan finally putting the pen down, not in its correct position of course.

Grim looked about the office nervously. He knew that he hadn't been keeping up with the customer satisfaction program. There were still reports on his desk which needed filing about incidents in which certain customers had found themselves on the sharp end of a scythe due to factors that were totally beyond his control...mostly. Well some of the factors were in hi control. The speed, velocity, angle of the strike, for instance even the verbal insults that were delivered after the scythe had been removed but this is not important however, what matters is that Grim hadn't been doing his job according to how the management wanted it done. Grim knew this, and now, apparently, so did they. Satan was grinning. Things were going to get worse...

' I can tell from the look on your face that you know you've been a very naughty boy Grim. But, you know me, I'm a kind hearted individual. God was one for transferring you to another department where your lack of people skills wouldn't be a problem. I hear the Ouija Board division is really going places Grim. You'd like it there.'

That final sentence sent shivers down Death's spine. This was due firstly to the manner in which it was delivered. Satan had a gift of making any sentence sound like an insult by adding only the subtlest of intonations. Secondly, the Ouija Board division was where they sent all the no hopers. Once you were there you were doomed to spend the rest of eternity dealing with little kids who thought it would be fun to try to contact their dead uncle and ask pointless questions, or dealing with Psychic medians. He was unsure which was worse...

' Clearly the prospect of serving in that particular division isn't appealing,' sneered Satan, his grin seeming to grow wider with each passing second, slowly revealing more and more of his sharp, pointed, yet always sparkling, teeth. ' Don't worry Grim! I got it covered! I managed to persuade the G-man upstairs that you don't belong in that section. Hell you've been serving this desk since the dawn of time more or less, and you can't find experience like that! So, I managed to persuade him to give you another chance. Only problem is it comes at a price.'

' Anything! Please! I'll do anything,' blurted out Grim, ' Just don't send me to the Ouija Board Division!'

' I knew you'd see it my way,' chuckled Satan getting up off of the desk. ' Now, what you've got to do is quite simple really. We're sending you away to learn more people skills. Simple as that. Nothing else to it.'

'Really?' replied Grim somewhat cynically, knowing that nothing was ever simple where Satan was involved.

' Of course!' exclaimed Satan, ' Well, I do have to warn you that, to begin with, you may find the course teachers a little...shall we say...irksome? But that's what you get when you go to a Hippy Commune anyway.'

A hippy commune? Grim's heart skipped a beat. If there was one set of people he despised in all the universe it was hippies. It was a trait he shared with God who's hatred of Hippies was so great that he Rigged the 2000 Presidential election to ensure that Gore didn't get into power and start listening to Hippy pressure groups.

Satan was still smiling....

' How...how long do I have to be there for?' asked Grim the dismay in his voice clearly audible.

' Now lets see...well, you need to be there long enough for it to have an affect...but we don't wanna keep you there too long...so...shall we say a month? Or until we feel you've become a people person' said Satan with a very false look of sympathy on his face.

' An entire month...' Grim let the sentence trail off as his mind began to wander with exactly what a month living in a hippy commune would be like.

' Only if necessary! Oh and one more thing! Whilst you're on the mortal plane of existence you will be physical, and well...subject to the same problems that they have. But don't worry! If you die, you'll just end up back here and we can put you straight back down again. Now if you'll excuse me I have an appointment with Octo-Jesus. Apparently the jellyfish don't take too kindly to the prospect of a fishy messiah! So off you go!'

Grim opened his mouth to reply, blinked, and then shut it again. He was no longer in his office. The tiled floor had been replaced by grass which was in need of mowing. Where the pot plant had once stood was now a tree.

' Bugger,' Grim thought to himself as he examined his surroundings further. In the distance he could make out what appeared to be some form of encampment. His ears twitched slightly as they heard the words 'Kumbaya' repeated over and over again. Grim shuddered. If there was thing he detested more than hippies it was hippie who fulfilled stereotypes.

' Well,' Grim mused, ' I suppose I had better get this over with'

It wasn't a long walk to the camp, but for Grim it felt like eternity. This was primarily due to the fact that as an anthropomorphic entity, the idea of time was a unique phenomena that he did not have to deal with on a daily basis. Let me explain dear reader for from the bemused look upon your face I can tell you haven't got a clue of what I'm talking about.

Within the universe anthropomorphic entities inhabit a place which is beyond the physical realm. Throughout history human cultures have tried to define this place with a number of terms. Valhalla, Heaven, Hell, Nirvana. Oddly enough, despite the myriad of religions in the world, not one of them has ever successfully managed to get the right name of this place, all though it is rumoured that L. Ron Hubbard did once come very close. I digress however, for the name of this place is not important. What is important however is that within the patch of reality that Grim calls home time does not exist. Well, it does, but it does not move in a linear motion. It does not progress forwards in a march resembling a communist display of military strength, but rather it loops back on itself. Time, is circular and enjoys forming knots. This peculiarity results in Grim's office building as being in not just a singular place, at a singular time, but in all places, at all points in time. As such as Grim walked towards the encampment he could physically feel the change in time around him, pushing at him as it marched past determined to get to wherever it was that it was going.

Eventually Grim arrived at what appeared to be the edge of the encampment. Inside tents were pitched in a haphazard manner. Clothes were strewn about in a way that suggested sexual promiscuity. Grim took a deep breath and walked into the camp.

' Wooah! He's here!'

Grim turned to face the direction the voice had came from. In front of him stood four hippies. He would have tried to distinguish them, but their faces and forms were concealed a heavy haze of smoke which could have come from any number of illegal substances.

' Thank god I don't have a respiratory system' mumbled death as he walked towards the group.

' Ah, good afternoon,' said Grim holding out his hand to the closest hippy. ' I believe I'm expected? My name is Grim.'

' Woah!' replied one of the hippies, the pitch of the voice giving it away to be a woman, ' This is so totally radical! The prophesy came true!'

' Prophesy?' inquired Grim with one eyebrow raised

' Yeah dude! Like ...a few hours ago Jim here,' he pointed to the hippy next to him, ' had like...a vision, and in it a man called Stan, with red skin said that you would arrive and that we had to teach you to how to be like...mellow and more people person like.'

' Ah, I see,' sighed Grim wishing that he did in fact have a respiratory system as then he might be able to inhale the fog of smoke and be in a state of mind where he wouldn't be driven into a homicidal rage by the stoners standing in front of him.

It was at this point that Grim remembered that as an anthropomorphic entity his entire being was shaped by the power of belief, or as you might like to put it, if people wished it upon him, it was so. Allow me to illustrate. At this point in time our dear friend Grim is wishing he had a respiratory system, if a normal being were to wish such a thing, the universe would in fact not alter their very physical make up to allow them to have it. However, due to a flaw in the universal coding, Anthropomorphic entities are changed by such wishes. As such, upon the very instant where Grim wished he was in possession of a respiratory system, he found himself suddenly breathing in enough drug filled smoke to make even the Canadian party for the legalisation of cannabis think twice about drug use.

They say there is nothing life like your first high. For Grim this was certainly the case. The feeling of his head being filled with helium and wanting to float away was not something he'd ever experienced before. The rumbling within his digestive system, which he swore hadn't been there a moment ago, was something new as well.

' Woah! You look....like more totally mellow already!' said one of the hippies, ' Dude! Just wait till you try this new stuff from Jamaica! It's called Tropical Envy. You're gonna love it!'

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag filled with what looked like oregano, a lighter, and pack of cigarette skins. Opening the bag, he pinched some of the contents out and sprinkled it gently into one of the skins before quickly, and skillfully, rolling it up into a usable joint. With an audible click form the lighter, it was alight, and Grim found himself inhaling yet more drug filled fumes. This...was different though. The world was changing around him.The grey clouds that hung in the sky were suddenly of a purest white with happy smiling faces, swaying from side to side to the rhythm of the whistling wind. It was a happy tune, a song of pure joy indicating that all was right in the world.

' It's...beautiful...' mumbled Grim as he staggered forward past the hippies towards the forest behind them.

' Yo, dude! Wait up!' cried one of the hippies.

' No man!' said the hippy carrying the drugs. ' I believe it was the holy prophet John Lennon who once said: ' If you love them, let them go.' He is at one with the universe, he will use this as a way to reach his inner chi and fulfill his earthly potential.'

All the hippies, stunned by this pearl of wisdom that had just struck their ears stood and watched Grim stagger awkwardly into the forest.

To the casual observer it was a normal forest. To those high on hallucinogenic drugs it was magical. The gum drop trees swayed in the wind, their fruits singing out a counter melody to the blue tits warbling songs of love and spring. A squirrel ran down a tree and jumped onto Grim's shoulder. It started to play a harmonica. The forest was singing. All was well. As Grim walked through this magical paradise his eyes fell upon giant sign on the outskirts of the forest. He skipped towards it as the sounds and songs of the forest faded into the distance.

It was a big sign. On it was a giant pig in a chefs hat with a fork in one hand and plate of bacon in the other. Grim stopped skipping and stared at the giant pig. He wondered if the pig understood the concept of cannibalism as it's arm moved the fork up and down by a magical force known to humans as electricity and engineering. Undisturbed by his thoughts Grim moved closer to the sign. The ground beneath his feet changed in texture, gone was the grassy earth that had been underfoot in the forest. Here the ground was hard, rocky almost. He paid no heed to it and continued to stare at the sign.

A sound in the distance, a rumble of thunder perhaps? No matter, Grim continued to stare at the sign. The sound grew louder and louder until finally its distraction forced Grim to turn his head in it's direction. Heading towards him was a large object. It was moving at high speed. The square box at the front seemed to be being propelled by...yes...there were wheels attached to it. The square box was in turn attacked to another larger box, also moving on wheels at quite a speed. It was a very nice shade of red. Such a nice shade of red that Grim stood there staring at it for a brief period of time as it got closer and closer. On the front of the box at the front was writing of some sort. Squinting slightly Grim was able to make out what it said.

' Warning: I intentionally run over small, furry animals'

Grim slurred his words slightly as he read aloud the writing. His mind filled with a number of thoughts. Top of which was the fact that he was glad that he was a small furry animal and that because of this clearly the box on wheels would avoid him. He then started to think about what it would be like to be a small furry animal. He then promptly changed into a small furry animal as the laws of Anthropomorphism kicked in.

Suddenly viewing the world from a much smaller vantage point, and also a vantage point with paws, seemed to clear the drug filled haze of his mind. Why it wasn't a box on wheels that was hurtling towards him at high speeds that were probably in excess of the speed limit, but rather a truck. This made so much more sense of the situation, but it did not however help solve the problem which was now dawning on Grim that he was now a small animal in front of a truck being driven by a man who was less than 10 seconds away from him and likely to run him over for fun.

Without vocal cords grim was unable to express himself in any verbal way, but as the truck successfully squashed his head to the tarmac a look crossed his face which in human terms can be translated as meaning ' oh shit!'

In the gap between realities where Anthropomorphic entities live Satan was sat in Grim's office with his feet on the table conversing on a phone.

'Yeah. I understand boss. I understand. You know as well as I do that Mohammed will not like that plan. Sending him to save the souls of Anchovies is a bad idea. If they didn't like Octo-Jesus, do you honestly think they'll latch on to Islam? I know you like the idea of an aquatic messiah, but is it strictly necessary? I've been looking at the account and....hold on a second. Grim is back. Why are you looking at me like that? Where did you get that Knife from? Ah, Grim lets talk this through buddy! It can't have been that bad!'

Grim's eyes were cold as he stared at Satan who slowly began to remove his feet from the In Tray. slowly he began to walk forward, the aforementioned knife gripped tightly in one hand, with an even pace which each step acting as an exclamation point to the word he spoke.

' I. Was. Run. Over. By. A. Truck.'

' W...well that's hardly my fault Grim!' stuttered Satan as he stood up and back slowly toward the door, ' I didn't know that was going to...'

' I. Don't. Care! I am not going back down there for love or money. If you must send me on some stupid course then send me somewhere else!'

' Ok. Ok. Just calm down buddy! Put the knife down! Thats it. Now, we did have some other ideas so we'll jsut send you to one of the contingency plans. And you're gone in three, two, one!'

Grim blinked. Gone was his office. In front of him was a mass of young faces all under the age of ten. All holding pea shooters. All aimed at him.

' Oh god!' he moaned under his breath ' Here we go again...'

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