Some Kinda story

Chapter 0

Once upon a time, everyone died. This was considered by most to be a very, very bad thing - or it would be, if the dead people could consider anything.
You would expect the Grim Reaper to be very happy about this, but the opposite was true. "Crap, he said, "most of these people weren't even supposed to die this DECADE! Also, when I finally do sort everything out, I'll be unemployed!"
A voice beside him asked, "Don't you feel bad for them?" This was asked by a short, portly, red lizardman.
" Only if you do," he replied, " you're my conscience in 'living' form, since having a conscience IN me makes my job a bit difficult. Speaking of which... next time you try to convince me to let a little 'kid' with a 'toy' knife, make sure that it isn't actually a backstabbing TROLL!


Rick woke up. As he got out of bed, he saw nothing but yellow outside his window. "Stupid Vogons," he mumbled, "I don't want my house knocked down..." Of course, when he stopped being stupid, he figured out that what he first thought was irrational. Deciding to see what was actually going on rather than thinking that this was some messed up version of "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy", he went to the door and opened it. What he first thought were aliens with bulldozers was actually a raging golden inferno. "What the-" he muttered, and closed the door. As he walked back to bed, he realized that the town was on fire.
Chapter -1

Rick jumped out the only window that did not have the fire waiting outside to devour him. Running straight towards nowhere, he ran into a frail-looking, long-bearded old man carrying a butcher's knife in one of his gloved hands. "Oh- sorry," Rick apologized. "Didn't see you there."
"Don't you know what's goin' on, Rick" the old man asked.
"Uh... the town is ablaze with a strange, golden fire?"
Since Rick couldn't find one, the old man found one for him. It was a scythe with a rusted blade and a slightly damaged wooden handle. "Catch," the man said, as he tossed the scythe at Rick.

Instead of catching the scythe, Rick tucked his hands under his arms, and let the scythe's handle bounce off him. Something was wrong. It seemed like pure terror or psychic poison was emminating from the barely-sharp gardening tool. "What're you doin'," the old man asked. "Pick up the scythe!"
"I...I....I-" stuttered the confused Rick. "There- there is- I feel an unnatural quality about it. Like it is trying to turn my insides into a combination of toxic sludge and vegemite*." While he was saying that, a flaming arrow flew over his head.
"There's no time for actin' strange," the old man said. "The attackers are running out of arrows to burn and shoot at us, and soon they'll charge at us!"

Strange logic overcame Rick's strange feeling. That mysterious old man that I've never met and that seemed to come out of nowhere is right, he thought. I need to be armed. Just because the scythe makes my skin crawl anytime I get near it doesn't mean anything.

Rick picked up the scythe. Suddenly, it felt like he was cast into a bottomless void, while being turned inside-out. That sensation, however, quickly faded, and so did the feeling of abnormality about the scythe. "Invaders," he roared. "Leave now or there shall be no mercy!" However, this shout went unheard under the noise caused by the clash between the attackers and the attacked.
((OOC)* No offense to those who like vegemite.)
Chapter C

The Grim Reaper was pacing in a room with scythes covering the wall... or most of it. He stared at the blank spot on the wall. " Where, " he asked the lizardman near him, " is Mad Ahlikkz's scythe, Conscience? "
Conscience thought for a moment. "Oh," he finally said, "Mad Ahllikz's? The one who used by the crazy Grim Reaper that killed a whole bunch of people whose life-time had not run out, and blamed the deaths on the Black Plague? It was giving off weird energy, making me feel very bad. So I destroyed it. That thing is pure evil. "
" Are you sure that you destroyed it?"
"Weeeelll.... I took it out, walked to the Scythe Retiring System, and walked back without the scythe. I don't remember what happened between reaching it and returning, but since the scythe was gone, I must have demolished it, right?"
The Grim Reaper would have sighed if at all possible. After a long, painful silence, he finally 'growled', " Why didn't I give you any intellect?"
Conscience answered quickly, and in one breath, he said, "You couldn't spare any of your own brain-power, sir. You made me of all of your conscience, but none of your intelligence, since you didn't want to become an idiot."
" Now I have one working for me, don't I?"

((Can somebody PLEASE tell me how this story is? Without anyone giving me any input, I feel this might be just a little bit better than Arkraiday(pig latin). I really need to know how this is.))