George:
[
George was supposed to reap her first soul, a little girl, and she doesn't want to do it]
[
to Rube]
George:
If you want her to die so bad, *you* do it!
Rube:
[
angrily] I can't, no one can except you. Death is non-transferable, she's *your* mark. Only you can do the deed.
George:
Well then, barring any unforeseen accidents, I'd say she has another eighty years.
Rube:
Yeah, well you believe me, that's eighty years she doesn't want.
George:
What is that supposed to mean?
Rube:
Her fate was sealed the moment she got onto that train. Her soul expired. You know what happens when you keep a soul around after its time?
George:
No.
Rube:
Same thing happens to milk. It spoils, goes bad, souls go bad in all kinds of ways.
[
...]
more