Merch for the Morbidly Burned Out

I used to be Andrew — a paramedic who spent too many years scraping broken bodies off pavement and pretending caffeine counted as therapy. Eventually, the burnout hollowed me out so deep that Death itself said, ‘Congrats, you’re promoted.’ One signature later, I was reassigned to the Office of the Dead, stripped of my name, and reborn as Steve the Reaper.

Now I spend eternity pushing paperwork, clocking in for mandatory soul collections, and drinking coffee strong enough to resurrect the damned. Don’t confuse me for some majestic angel of death — I’m a corporate drone with a scythe, chained to an afterlife cubicle, waiting for HR to deny my vacation request for the 4,327th time.

Welcome to my office. You’re already on the payroll.