Jeremy was a lonely little boy who was the pharaoh's eldest son. He spent all his time learning how to construct intricate irrigation systems and how to brutally exploit the peasants. But Jeremy had never had time to learn how to play, and he had never had a friend.

Then one night a stranger came to the door. He was a large looming figure surrounded by a skirling mist composed of damned souls perpetually wailing as if on a giant roller coaster of despair.

"I am Death," said the stranger, "And I have come to kill you."

Jeremy was skeptical. But he was a lonely little boy and glad for the company.

"Hot Dawg!" said Jeremy, "A friend!"

Now Jeremy's new friend could do the neatest stuff. He could make all the torches go out and replace their light with a cold eire glow. He could take his head off and tuck it under his arm. He could even go through walls. But there was one thing that Jeremy did not like about his new friend and that was his conversation.

"You are not a son if Israel," Death continually intoned, "Therefore you must die."

Finally this got too much, even for Jeremy, and he politely suggested that it was time for his friend to leave.

"Look, Jeremy," said Death, "I've got allot of Egyptian eldest sons to kill tonight so you get your butt on over here."

So Death killed Jeremy, and all the other Egyptian eldest sons, and soon Jeremy was playing with them; skipping rocks across the Nile, writing graffiti on the pyramids, and spitting off the sphinxes. Jeremy was lonely no more.

But he was dead.

the end