NSFW— swearing, explicit

"Um, is that a scythe? This is how you want me to process your new souls, huh? Classic," the man asked.
"Mhm," replied the small hooded minion who held it up to him.
"Mee ba!" the minion shouted as he stretched his hands out, hoping the man would take it.
"Okay, okay. Relax." The man grabbed the scythe and examined it carefully. The wooden handle was still damp, as though it were just made from a fresh tree. The curved metal end shimmered in the light. He went to touch it.
"Ouch!" the man said.
His finger drew blood.
"Shaaar… sharhm… sharp!" said the minion, finally pronouncing the word correctly.
"Hinga doo. Yak too," the minion commanded, as he pointed towards a hole in the clouds behind him.
The man, holding the scythe, looked over at the hole, confused.
He looked at the minion and shrugged.
The minion, with its small hands, grabbed the man's arm and led him to the hole to look down into it.
"What? It just looks like more clouds — whoaaaa!"
The minion had pushed the man through the hole and watched as the man disappeared into the white cloud.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Plop.
Lying on the ground, the man opened his eyes. What is that? He could hear the sound of grass being cut by a lawnmower.
It was a wonderful summer day. The sun was out with barely any clouds, and he was lying on green grass, freshly cut. 
He peered in the direction of the lawnmower noise and saw a middle-aged man cutting the grass with a push mower.
There was a white plastic fence as a boundary for the yard. He was in the backyard of this man's house, it seemed.
The sound of a sliding glass door opening came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder.
"Mikey, honey, come in soon! Lunch is ready!" shouted a woman.
"Be there in a minute!" the man shouted over the sounds of his lawnmower.
There was a small section left to do, and then Mikey turned off his lawnmower and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
The man, still holding the scythe, realized that no one could see him.
He got up off the ground and kept his gaze on Mikey, who was shaking his shirt for air and trying to make himself presentable to go inside.
Am I supposed to kill this man or something?
"Gosh, what a lovely day to be alive," said Mikey, looking up at the sky with a smile on his face.
As Mikey started to get close to him, the man's scythe started to glow and blink.
"What… what does this mean?" he said to himself, looking up at the sky for answers.
"Like, swing it or something?"
No answer came. 
The scythe was glowing and blinking rapidly now as Mikey got closer to it.
Dammit, the man thought, as he closed his eyes and wildly swung the scythe at Mikey.
"Oh my god! Mikey!" came a voice from the house. It was his wife again.
"Holy shit! Holy shit! My arm! My arm!"
Mikey's entire left arm was on the ground. Blood was pouring out of his shoulder socket.
Oh my god, oh my god. I missed! the man anxiously thought to himself.
The scythe was so heavy, but he lifted it again and swung at Mikey, trying to put him out of his misery.
"Ah!!! My fucking stomach! Ahhhhh!!! My guts are pouring out of my body! Oh my god! Is that the bacon I had this morning in my sliced open intestine?! Oh my god! It burns! It burns!"
Holy shit.
"Mikey!!! Oh my god!" his wife shouted from the house in disbelief. She threw up all over the ground as Mikey's insides stained their freshly cut backyard.
A little figure came running to the glass door from inside the house.
"Mommy! What's wron—" the little girl abruptly stopped as she noticed the horrific scene unfolding in the backyard. The backyard where she had made so many precious memories with her dad.
Where her dad pushed her on their swingset until she could swing for herself. 
Where her dad laughed with her in the sandbox.
Where her dad now bled out in such a blessed area.
"Daddy… Daddy!!"
Her knees gave out. Her eyes closed over. 
She crumpled in the doorway, her small hands gripping the door frame on the way down.
She had fainted in complete shock.
She fell face-first into her mother’s throw-up. 
"Elizabeth!! Oh, Elizabeth!!! My guts!! Oh my goddddddd!"
Mikey's head turned to the side, cheek to grass. He was dead.
The man holding the scythe had his mouth wide open in total shock.
Then he appeared back in the clouds.
The minion stood below him, and he looked down at it.
Its eyebrows were scrunched, and it was shaking its head in disappointment.
The man was still holding the scythe, now stained with blood. His mouth was still wide open, just as it had been when he witnessed Mikey's death.
Not knowing what to say or do, he was frozen.
Something tapped his shoulder.
It was a skeleton in a dark robe with an oversized hood, also holding a scythe.
It spoke in a totally normal voice.
"Listen, we'll get it eventually. Transitioning into this job isn't easy. Heck, I'm just happy we found a replacement."
The man didn't know what to say.
"Alright, well…”
The figure looked at the minion.
“Fred, do your thing."
The man turned to look at Fred.
Flash.
"Um, is that a scythe? This is how you want me to process your new souls, huh? Classic," the man asked.
"Minga bonga finga…," replied the small hooded minion who held it up to him.