At the Life Counter

"Yes," he says, rather tentatively. "I'd like mine with more honesty, meaning, and love, please."
The guy at the counter - who strangely kept changing appearance almost like a shape in water, looking old and then young, blue skinned and then grey haired - just stared at him.
"Did you hear me," he finally asks.
The man  - suddenly snapped into focus and looking like one of those apron wearing guys from 50s- style diners - laughed.
"You want more of this and less of that? Is that what you want?"
He could have sworn he heard a strong Brooklyn accent, which made this seem all the more surreal. "Well yes. Specifically, I'd like more honesty, meaning ..."
The guy at the counter interrupted with a wave of the hand. "I heard ya. I heard ya." And then he laughed.
"What? What's so funny."
"You think you're the first to want to change your order?"
He just stared. And then the man leaned across the counter and said, "You got two choices: either you choose life or you don't. The rest of it? You don't got that much choice about."
He stood there silent, now uncertain about what to do.
"So, what'll it be?"