Guillotine.

"

All we can really do is make the Reaper’s job hell, you know? That’s what I wish for you, for me, for anyone. To make the sonofabitch curse your name as he drags you to hell. To make him swing a few times. To whiff a few more. To throw out his shoulder. To throw out his back. To get his neck out of whack. To piss blood. To swallow blood. To vomit blood. To call in the heavies. To let loose the hellhounds. To swap out his *scythe for a Colt 45. I want you to be so hard to kill that you get the mother fucker in serious trouble with his employer. I want the thought of you to make him lose his erection. That’s it, kid. That’s it. I want him to walk into the bedroom with his mistress, his cloak tattered, his spirit tattered, his day tattered and I want him to go limp at the thought of you still living, still breathing, still carrying on. What a glorious, thunderous way to live. To single-handedly ruin the reaper’s sex life at your outright refusal to die…

"

*Scythe sold separately