Death Denied a Holiday Death has too many bosses. He’s like a drudge drowning in an office typing pool. But he’s not even a mailroom clerk. He’s a janitor, a freaking janitor. Each time the four horsemen gallop by, Death must sweep away the apocalyptic mess. And there’s fire and brimstone, floods and rivers of blood whenever Jehovah is in a smiting mood, so death gets out the bloody mop quite often. But Kali is the most devious boss of all. She threatens Death with death. Her dark beauty and four-armed embrace seduce him each time. And her kissing snakelike tongue sucks away his soul. But when the Cold War ended, it looked as if the conveyor belt of carnage would stop or at least slow down. It was even rumored that old curmudgeon Mars was considering retirement. But a betrayed hope is crueler than an undreamt hope. No time to smell the roses or watch the Yankees. new genocides are making even more spillage. With no swords-into-ploughshares holidays, Death needs a bigger mop.