"Hey! Can you settle something for us?"

Azrail looked up at two burly men. One had tusks that curled up over his lips from his lower teeth, and the other had seven arms all on one side and all so muscular they seemed fake.

"Hopefully I can help you find a way to settle things yourselves," Azrail said. "But of course I am happy to help you both."

"Rrriiigggghhhttt," the tusked man said suspiciously.

"So, what do you think?" The seven arm man asked.

"I tend to think a great many things," Azrail nodded. "In fact, I am reminded of an old teacher I once had. He was full of wisdom you see, but he had this problem where he would frequently not realize half of his sentence was never said out loud, and he only thought them. This led to..."

"Uh, I thought we were here to ask you to settle something for us?" The seven armed man asked.

"Yeah, we didn't come for some long winded lecture my man." The tusked man snorted.

Azrail let out a sigh. "I thought you wanted an answer? Well, I was trying to provide one that may actually help you two."

The two burly men glanced at each other. Some worry and clear concern on their faces. Finally, the seven armed man stepped forward and held out half of his hands.

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"Okay, it's like this." The heavily armed man explained. "We're working on this thing."

"A ceiling," the other man interjected.

"Right, a ceiling." He continued after the interruption. "Anyway, we both want to decorate it..."

"But he wants to do it the dumbest way," he snorted as his tusks rocked back and forth.

"Dumb?" The seven armed man scoffed. "My way will last much longer, and look way better."

"Hah! Better? I've got zits in places the sun don't shine that'd look better than your dumb plan."

The two of them slammed their foreheads against each other and started to snarl. They locked eyes and glared at each other.

As they started to raise up fists, Azrail spoke up. "You don't want to listen to me. You get too distracted to explain anything. I'm not sure I see what you actually want me to do here."

The two of them lowered their fists, but kept their foreheads pressed together as they continued to glare each other down.

"Fresco!" Bellowed the seven armed man.

"Mural!" Growled the man with impressive tusks.

"Art?" Azrail asked. "This is about some artistic pursuit?"

"Hah! What else could have gotten us so fired up?" The tusked man asked. "Nothing is above the pursuit of art."

"Except what fool would pursue art in such a temporary way?" The seven armed man scoffed. "All it will do is fade more and more as time goes on."

"That'll be ages from now! Besides, there are ways to preserve it." The tusked man continued.

The seven armed man clicked his tongue. "Of course you'd say that. Add this, add that. Pour ways to delay the inevitable. Yet centuries from now, my work would still be just as vibrant as in the beginning. With no special protection needed."

"You overestimate the durability of plaster." He scoffed from between his tusks.

"So this boils down to how to paint?" Azrail asked.

The two of them broke their gaze to turn towards him in shock.

"What? No!" They both said in unison.

"Then what is it about?" Azrail asked.

"The ceiling!" They shouted at Azrail.

Azrail smiled and nodded. "I think I understand. And you want my opinion on which way is better...for a ceiling of course."

The two of them looked and at each other. Then nodded.

"Yes, that'll work." The multiple armed man nodded.

"Well, I'm not so sure I trust the judgement of someone so clueless," the other man grumbled. "But I guess it's better than continuing to argue in circles forever."

Azrail smiled. "Well then, allow me illuminate you. Why, your struggle is reminiscent of an old friend of mine. You see..."

And so the two of them were inflicted with a long and rambling story from Azrail's long list of morals and advice hidden within far more words than needed.