Oi, I'm back. I didn't actually go anywhere, I just fell off the face of the Earth for a bit. So let's jump right the hell in:
The League of Dead Celebrities
The grand living room of Mr. G. R. Death, Esq. was furnished with all the common articles of celebration. Colorful light fixtures, carefully arranged furniture, stereos blasting music(classical, of course - this wasn't one of
those parties), and food wall to wall. After all, why should one worry about one's weight when one is already dead. There were buffet tables filled with the most decadent assortment of food and drink known to man. There was, of course, a table filled with different sorts of consumables, for those with a predilection to such things. Yes, Death had provided the best for his guests. After all, these were quite the guests indeed. The pillars of human society, the ones the common folk aspire to be, the beautiful people. Of course, there was the prophecy as well, but, thought Death, that could wait for later.
Dressed in a luxurious black tuxedo and tailcoat, Death descended the grand staircase to greet his willing guests. Whatever afterlives they all believed in, he was sure none of them looked quite like this. As the tall, dark gentleman proceeded into the living room, a hush fell upon the many celebrities chatting and mingling. The music seemed to stop abruptly. No one was quite sure what would happen next, and all eyes were fixed on their host. At this, Death let out a hearty laugh.
"Welcome, my friends! Welcome to your new lives! Or, I guess I should say, your new deaths!"
With dark black eyes, Death scanned the entire room, taking in all the famous faces. He could see artists, revolutionaries, great leaders all staring at him, waiting on his next words.
"Please, enjoy yourselves! This party is for you, and only for you. In time, all will be revealed and your purpose here will become clear. But first, let's have a little fun, shall we?"
The music picked up from where it had left off, and the festival of the dead began once again.
