I was in the process of pulling myself out of my latest lethargic episode of misery when the doorbell rang, and the Grim Reaper was standing there. Only instead of a black robe and scythe, he was wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt and carrying a steel lunchbox. He offered me something from it, but I declined.
"You just seem so sad," the Grim Reaper said to me. "How about a bag of pretzels?"
"I think I'll pass," I replied.