Ive come to collect

I've  come to collect, he said.
Collect what, i replied.  I have nothing to give, i am already dead.
I have come to collect you.
And how are to collect me? As i said, i am dead. Are you to put me in your pocket, or have you brought a jar? How am i to be collected.
With a frustrated stamp of his foot he answered, you do not get my meaning at all.  I am to collect you as in you come with, of your own volition. Not in my pocket and not in some jar, are you mad?!
No, i thought.  But maybe, i thought more. Maybe i have gone mad. Maybe this is madness. Perhaps i should be put in a jar and displayed. Here, a mad man in a jar, my exhibit will read. Died amd collected on the eve of his 30th birthday.  Interesting only that he is in a jar amd not a pocket.
Well, he huffed, do you intend to come with me or do you wish to remain here?
I dont know.
He huffed again, i havent the time, im sorry, but you must make a decision.
How? What? Why? I asked him and he answered each with either a stamp of his foot, a huff, or a flick of his wrist.
Fine, if it will hurry you along, i will answer one question.  Ask.
Okay, i responded. What time is it?