disappointment

Disappointment in Samara

    There was once a wealthy merchant who had a faithful servant. One day, the servant was carrying water for his master in the marketplace. As he was struggling with his load, whom should he see but Death? On seeing the servant, Death stopped suddenly and gave him a very odd look. The servant dropped all his water immediately, and passed some as well, in his haste to get home.
    When the servant returned home, he was shaking from head to toe. His master was alarmed and distressed.
    "Where's my water?" he asked anxiously.
    "Master, Master!" stammered the servant. "I just saw Death in the marketplace, and he did a double take when he saw me. And then he looked at me in the oddest way!"
    "Oh, my," said the master. "I'm still pissed off about the water, but I think some good can come of this."
    "How so?" asked the servant.
    "You must leave immediately for Samara," said the master. "And burn it to the ground."
    "Beg pardon?" asked the servant.
    "You've got to show Death you mean business," explained the Master. "After getting out of town, of course. Anyway, after demolishing Samara, I'll come in and rebuild it for a fat profit. Hmm. I believe they have some oil wells around there, too."
    "Ok," said the servant after a moment's thought. "You're the master."
    So the servant set off immediately and torched Samara. As the flames began to subside, he saw Death wandering around collecting souls.
    "What?" screeched the servant. "What are you doing here?"
    Death cocked an eyebrow at him. "My job," he said.
    "Well," said the servant, putting on as brave a front as he could, "now you can see that I mean business!"
    "I beg your pardon?" said Death.
    "After you glowered at me so menacingly in the marketplace, my master told me I had to destroy Samara to show you that I meant business," peeped the servant, a bit less impressively than he had intended. "So back off!"
    "In the marketplace? Menacing?" Death seemed puzzled. "Oh, I remember!"
    "Yeah, you were going to take me!" said the servant accusingly.
    "Nah," said Death, waving off the accusation. "It was just a little gas. You could've asked. Or checked out my web site, www.death.com. All your personal information is there. Password protected. All you have to do is register. Let me see... No, you were supposed to live for many more years. But since you're such a dumb fuck, I'm afraid I'll have to take you now."
    "Just wait!" declared the servant pugnaciously. "My master will know what to do! He always knows what to do! He's going to make a gazillion dinars on the Samara deal! Isn't that brilliant?"
    "Yeah, and I nab him as soon as he sets foot in Samara. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings," said Death. "but he's a dumb fuck, too."