"Do you like being alive?" Master Jabber asked his golem.

They were sauntering through town, free of all cares and worries that lazy afternoon.

"Well, now that's an interesting question," his golem said. "I mean, am I actually alive?"

"Oh god, can we avoid the goddamn demon in the details? Just answer the question."

"All I can say is, if being an imitation of life is this great, then being all the way alive must be fantastic." As if to emphasize his point, the golem contentedly stomped a cobblestone with his granite foot, cracking it.

Jabber looked at him askance, his long white and black eyebrows frowning like gathered wings. "You would say that wouldn't you? Not a care in the world."

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"Indeed, I find existence rather amazing. What about you?"

"Not that great actually. My life is on the downhill side of a long march towards death."

"Would you rather not really be alive like me, then?"

"Oh go to hell."

"No, sir," the golem said amiably, "you go to hell."

A few steps ahead, a gentleman sat on his horse halfway on the sidewalk, blocking Master Jabber's way. The man was leaning down, offering a flower to a pretty demoness in a yellow dress.

Master Jabber stabbed his wand into the horse's rump, a bright spark flashing from its tip. With a loud whinny, the horse startled and jumped off into the street, knocking the she-demon down, and forcing the gentleman into a series of bouncing undulations as he tried to keep from falling. "God return to damn you, you forsaken heathen!" he shouted back as the pair continued on their way.