| CONTACT. |
[03 Apr 2011|12:56am] |
This is how you idiots make me feel. Every. God damned. Day.
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| psl; dead like me |
[01 Apr 2011|10:28pm] |
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Bereta
1907 - 1947
Theodore Bereta was born during a simpler time. Growing up on a farm, he was taught old fashioned values and expected to pull his weight from very early on. He rose before the sun, worked well into the evening and knew better than to complain about it. The complete and total loss of work ethic in favor of self-entitlement is still something he laments to this day.
Drafted during World War II, there were ample opportunities for death to claim his soul. He saw and did things no man ever should, and those visions would forever haunt him. Miraculously surviving the war, Theodore returned home and tried to carve a normal life for himself. He married, fathered a daughter and found steady work; did all the things he knew so many of his friends never would. Then, just as he was finally beginning to overcome his shell shock, he died. A carpenter by trade, an accident with a circular saw severed all four fingers from his right hand. It should have been painful and bloody, but somehow it wasn't. Enter the reaper.
Presently Theodore finds himself in charge of Death's department of External Influence. The man before him finally reached his quota and moved on, leaving Theo up shit creek without a paddle. At least he has a rag tag group of lovably incompetent idiots to keep him company.
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