Death becomes some - some way more than others.
Work for John Stricken, 51, was not just a 'religion,' but the essence of his very being. Early to work, and late to leave was the incessant mantra of Striken, a long-time employee of Swarlee, Inc., a publishing company in New York City. Having his head to the grindstone was his modus operandi.
Stricken was the early bird that got the beefy worm.
"I told Stricken over and over again to take some time off," said Roger Scion, a fellow employee, "or he would work himself into an early grave."
Stricken apparently did just that: He died at work and no one knew about it.
For five days Striken set at his editing desk, hunched over, appearing studious. And despite working in a busy office with many co-workers, he didn't move a muscle; he didn't even twitch. Nobody thought it just a little strange. Nobody cared.
The Grim Reaper's revenge was fully exacted when his boss finally came over after five days to hand him his check. As he touched Striken's shoulder, he crashed summarily to the concrete floor.
Now, this would make for an interesting Spoof News story, except for the fact - it's real.
Only the names were changed to protect the ambivalent and uncaring.