Ned passed the next few minutes quietly not dying in his office, and was pleased with how well it was going. He'd stayed alive longer, but now that he was concentrating on it, it felt more like an accomplishment.

Quiet descended, a silence so consuming that even the drafty corridors ceased whistling. Bog wasn't certain where to look, so he solved the problem by plucking out his eyes and sticking them in a drawer.

Reality is like a fruitcake; pretty enough to look at but with all sorts of nasty things lurking just beneath the surface.

He gives me the hairy eyeball, and asks me to help him find his pancreas.

Ned passed the next few minutes quietly not dying in his office, and was pleased with how well it was going. He'd stayed alive longer, but now that he was concentrating on it, it felt more like an accomplishment.

It was one thing to hide away from the world. It was quite another to discover the world didn't miss you when you were gone.

Death should take more care with his paperwork.