“Yo Grim! Grim Reaaper!”

Grim turns around. He waves his hand in the air at his friend.

“It’s good to see you. I know there aren’t many who think so, but I always enjoy our time together. You know what they say, ‘the worst day on the golf course…’ I saw your shoulders bouncing. You laughed. You sly old dog you. But hey, maybe it was that headline I saw the other day in the paper. Somebody had the worst day on the golf course that was the worst day ever. He died! So you were here on a working day. Without me! You son of a gun. Did you play a few holes? No. No. Of course not. You’re an old pro. All business. But you have enough sense to take a day off now and again. Which is why we’re here. After all, ‘All work and no play makes Jack…’ Well you know. A dull boy. But Jack O’Lantern is not a dull boy. Nosiree Bob. So we playin’ eighteen or maybe thirty-six? And you said that we’re gonna have a third. I mean you said in your own unique way. Do I know the third? …La Catrina! Dia de los Muertos personified. Oh what joy! It is so good to see you. We’re like the three biggest icons of death. Or at least you two are. I’m just a Halloween icon. But the two of you! Oh what fun we’l have today. We’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“Fore!”