Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair was minding his own business, walking home from the convenience store with his head buried in his phone. He never saw it coming.
"Ugh, I swear I'm going to fail this FACS test," he muttered to himself, stepping onto the sidewalk. Then, he stepped on something squishy.
"Ayo! The fuc-"
His foot slid on a perfectly round, inexplicably placed potato. He flailed like a ragdoll, arms flailing wildly, eyes wide in terror.
"NOOOO!" Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair shrieked, his arms windmilling as he tried to find his balance.
His hands slapped the side of a nearby vending machine, but it was no use. The machine flipped and tipped over, crashing down onto his body with a loud.
CLUNK.
The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain straight to his head, making his vision spin and stars burst in front of his eyes.
"Ah, great. My life ends because of… a perfectly round potato? Cool." Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair groaned, his vision spinning as the machine pinned him to the ground. Though the world was spinning, and he was struggling to breathe under the weight.
"Th-this... this is... just a... ahem... scratch...uh....scraaa...."
His voice cracked as he tried to muster his usual bravado, but the pain was making his words slur.
"Just a... stupid... gghh...just a... scratch, I'm fine," Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair stammered, barely able to focus as his face met the cold pavement, the vending machine still pressing down on his chest. "A minor... minor inconvenience... nothing to
....ugh...nothing to worry about."
Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, a pigeon suddenly appeared beside him, its wings flapping aggressively. It began its mating dance, head bobbing, feathers ruffling, and making strange cooing noises.
"Coo… coo… Cooooo."
Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair eyes narrowed. "Well, at least... someone's getting... action tonight."
Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair died right there, still holding tightly to the lukewarm coffee he bought while also getting railed by a pigeon to the face.
[-----------------------------------------------]
Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair, slowly blinked his eyes open, and the first thing he noticed was the soft, fluffy clouds beneath him. He could almost feel his body floating, weightless. The throbbing in his head was gone, replaced by a strange sense of calm.
"Am I... dead?" Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair groaned, sitting up, glancing at the lukewarm coffee in his hand.
"Neat" and he proceeded to sip on it.
A figure appeared before him, dressed in bright, glowing robes. Their wings fluttered as they floated gently towards him.
"Welcome to Heaven," the figure said with a serene smile. "We've been expecting you, Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair the name that is longer than Dumbledore."
Archibald Maximilian Bartholomew Benedictus Theophilus Reginald Mortimer Aberforth Fitzroy Percival Cornelius Leopold Horatio Montgomery Edmund Sinclair blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Wait, what? No... just call me Jim."
Jim then smiled at the angel. "My friends all call me Jim."
The angel's smile faltered. "Well... let's not waste time with formalities. You're here now, and you've earned your place."
Jim scratched his head. "Uh... okay. So I get to stay here, right? This is cool. I'm good."
The angel paused, glancing at a glowing ledger. "Actually... it seems we have no record of you living a particularly virtuous life... or... well... living at all in any meaningful way. You've been quite... messedup in your choices."
"What?" Jim blinked. "But, how about that time that I saved a falling bird on a tree!"
The angel's face hardened. " You mean, the bird the you accidentally hit with a stone?Sorry, but there's no criteria of that to grant you an entry into Heaven. You're...uh...rejected."
Jim's jaw dropped. "What?!"
Before he could protest, the ground beneath him seemed to tilt. With a whoosh of wind, he was sucked into a black vortex, and in an instant, he found himself standing in front of a burning, demonic gate.
A massive, horned creature loomed over him, grinning. "Welcome to Hell," it growled.
Jim blinked. "Wait, no... Hell? But... I'm not that bad, right?"
The demon scrolled through a parchment with his name on it, eyes narrowing. "You're here because, frankly, your actions in life were more... eh than anything else. You were kind of mediocre in your wrongdoings. And considering your lack of any accomplishments, we're gonna have to reject you as well."
Jim's eyes widened. "You 'reject' people from Hell?!"
The demon shrugged. "It's our policy. No one mediocre gets in. We have standards too you know. Anyway, tough luck."
Before Jim could respond, the ground dropped out from under him, and he was flung into yet another swirling vortex.
Jim woke up again, this time in a golden palace, surrounded by gods who looked almost... too friendly. One god, wearing a crown made of grapes, stepped forward.
"Ah, welcome, Jim!" the god said with a broad smile. "You've entered the Greek Pantheon! You didn't really make it in Heaven or Hell, but don't worry, you've come to the right place. You'll fit right in with us."
Jim, now utterly bewildered, sat up slowly. "Wait. What? Greek gods?"
"Yes, yes" the god continued, handing him a goblet of wine. "But... we only accept those with an actual story. You know, deeds and legends. Unfortunately, your potato incident... it's just not...'legendary'
enough for us. So... you're rejected too."
Jim's face dropped as he was once again sucked into a vortex.
This happened a few more times, each time in a different pantheon, Norse gods, Egyptian deities, and even a rather smug group of Cthulhu worshippers, each one politely rejecting him with their own brand of logic.
After the 17th rejection, Jim finally found himself plummeting through a pitch-black universe, questioning his very existence.
"Am I really that average?" he muttered, bruised, battered, and growing increasingly exasperated.
Then, just as he thought he had hit rock bottom, a glowing neon sign appeared out of nowhere, reading:
"The Bureau of Misfits: We take what others won't."
Without a second thought, Jim plummeted towards it.
"Hey, at this point, I'll take anything," he grumbled.
And that's how Jim's journey to the afterlife turned into an endless, bizarre tour of every pantheon. It's almost like the universe was playing an elaborate prank on him... and maybe, just maybe, he was meant to end up in the one place no one else wanted.
[-------------------------------------------]
As Jim tumbled through the inky void for what felt like the hundredth time, he crashed face-first into a plush, dusty red carpet. Groaning, he looked up and squinted at a flickering neon sign that buzzed faintly overhead:
"Welcome to the Bureau of Misfits – Where Even the Forgotten Deserve a Shot."
The room was... weird. Think of a hoarder that stored stuff in the Junkyard of the Gods. Filing cabinets teetered in corners, celestial paperwork stacked sky-high. A glowing lava lamp sat next to what looked like a shrine made of bobbleheads.
And then, from behind a cluttered desk, a figure slowly rose.
He was tall, draped in robes that looked like they were sewn from bath towels and glitter. A fake laurel crown sat slightly askew on his head, and he held a coffee mug that read: "World's #1 Deity (According to Me)."
"Ah! You've arrived!" the figure boomed, throwing his arms open theatrically. "Another soul cast aside by the hypocrites of Heaven, the edgelords of Hell, and those drama queens in Olympus."
Jim blinked. "And you are.....?"
The figure gave a deep, dramatic sigh. "I am Quavor, the Forgotten God of Unacknowledged Effort and Mild Inconveniences!" Thunder crashed. Well, actually, a soundboard under his desk played a weak thunderclap effect.
"I was cast out by the Pantheons for daring to suggest weekly performance evaluations. Do you know what Zeus called me? A buzzkill!"
Jim raised an eyebrow. "You... run the Bureau?"
"Indeed!" Quavor said, dramatically sweeping papers off his desk. "When all the gods forgot me, I built this place! For those like you, cast aside not for wickedness or virtue, but for being...meh."
"Gee, thanks," Jim mumbled.
"But here, here!, you'll matter! You'll have purpose!" Quavor leaned in, wild-eyed. "We are building a pantheon of second chances, Jim. You will rise, and so will I. And together... we'll make them regret ever rejecting us!"
Jim stared at him. "Do I get a snack or something first?"
Quavor froze, then slowly reached under his desk and slid a granola bar across to him.
"Join me, Jim," he said solemnly, "and we'll shake the heavens with our averageness."
[--------------------------------------------]
After nibbling awkwardly on the slightly stale granola bar, and sipping on the somehow still not empty cup of coffee, Jim followed Quavor through the Bureau's maze-like corridors. They passed rooms labeled "Denied Destinies," "Abandoned Prophecies,"and "Department of Unfinished Side Quests."
As Jim and Quavor strolled past a hallway of strange doors, one sign made Jim stop in his tracks:
"FORGOTTEN MINECRAFT WORLDS – PLEASE! DO! NOT! BREED WITH THE MOBS."
"...Minecraft? Seriously?" Jim frowned, especially at the warning sign.
Quavor placed a solemn hand on the door. "Yes. The digital afterlife's most bittersweet department. Here lie the worlds left behind, old survival servers, creative flatlands, half-finished skyblock islands... abandoned by their creators, yet still... waiting."
He pushed open the door.
Inside was a pixelated landscape frozen in time. Floating dirt houses. Giant half-built pixel art. A bed placed on top of a tree for no discernible reason. And sitting faithfully near a mossy cobblestone campfire was a tamed wolf, its little tail wagging sadly.
Jim's heart immediately sank. "Oh no..."
The wolf turned its square head slowly toward the door, its nametag above reading: "Doggo #2 (The Goodest Boy)"
"He's been waiting for his player to come back for fifteen years," Quavor whispered, voice cracking. " 'The world file was named 'My Survival 2 FINAL Real This Time.' "
Doggo #2 let out a soft whine.
Jim kneeled. "Can... can I pet him?"
Quavor nodded gravely. "He deserves it."
Jim gently reached out and gave Doggo #2 a head pat. The wolf wagged its tail and let out a soft bark, then looked back out over the endless, empty blocky plains.
"...Tragic," Jim said softly.
Quavor cleared his throat. "Right! Enough emotional damage. Back to spinning your fate and falling face-first into danger!"
They closed the door quietly behind them.
At last, they arrived at a large chamber with a massive, glittery spinning wheel dominating the center. It looked like a cross between a Vegas slot machine, a carnival ride, and something a sleep-deprived game show producer would dream up at 3 a.m.
Jim squinted at the labels on the wheel:
- "Reincarnate as Slime"
- "Sent to a World With Sentient Produce"
- "Become a Magical Ferret"
- "Accidentally Powerful Half-Something"
- "Villager A but Plot-Relevant"
- "Still Human, But Everyone Else Is Weird"
- "Free Intern for a Tsundere Demon Lord"
- "Wizard Hybrid (Just dont ask how you were born.)"
- "Oops! All Muscles"
- "Doggie #2 + Cool Cape!"
- "One Skill: Vibe Detection"
"...This feels illegal," Jim muttered.
Quavor grinned manically. "It's the Wheel of Rejection Reassignment! Every soul gets one spin. Whatever it lands on, that's your new life. No take-backs. Except Tuesdays, but today's Thursday."
He handed Jim a giant foam hand shaped like a finger. "Give it a good spin, Jim. Fate waits for no mildly injured mortal!"
Jim sighed, grabbed the foam hand, and gave the wheel a mighty, wobbly slap.
CLACKA-CLACKA-CLACKA-CLACKA...
It spun wildly, the lights blinking erratically, a kazoo noise playing in the background for no clear reason.
Jim squinted as it started to slow.
"Ooh! Will it be Ferret? I hope it's Ferret," Quavor whispered eagerly.
The wheel clicked past "Sentient Produce," barely missed "Oops! All Muscles," then finally landed with a triumphant honk on:
"Half-Human, Half-Wizard, No Memory of Anything, Dropped Into a Modern Monster World."
Jim stared.
Quavor cackled. "Classic!" He smacked a giant red button and a glowing portal appeared beneath Jim's feet.
"Wait, WAIT! What about, like, preparation? Magic training? Pants?!"
But it was too late. With a whoosh, Jim was yanked downward, flailing wildly and still clutching the foam finger.
Quavor waved cheerfully after him. "Make me proud, Jim! Or at least don't immediately die! Either is fine!"
[------------------------------------------------------]
The sky was dark, the moon hanging low over the forested hills. Somewhere in the shadows, something stirred, a hulking, snarling deer-like kemono, muscles rippling and antlers like gnarled branches.
Inugami, in his usual laid-back posture, grabbed his gun and glanced at Kabane beside him. "Alright, Kabane. You ready?"
Kabane gave a nod, clutching his precious stone. "Yes."
The kemono took a step forward, eyes glowing.
Then-BOOOOOOM.
Something lit up the sky. A blazing trail, like a meteor, hurtled downward.
Inugami's eyes narrowed. "...Is that what i think it is?"
Kabane just said, "It's coming here...fast."
CRAAAAAASH.
The meteor slammed into the clearing like a bowling ball of chaos, right on top of the kemono deer. There was an earth-shaking thud, a burst of dust and leaves, and an echoing splurt that was... honestly, kind of gross.
Kabane and Inugami just stood there unblinking.
The dust cleared.
Lying in a crater of his own making, one leg twitching in the air, was a scrawny, disheveled guy with a half-melted foam finger still on his hand. In his other hand? A lukewarm coffee.
The kemono? Squished flat beneath him. Antlers sticking out at weird angles.
Jim lifted his head slightly, blood trickling from his nose. "T-this is just... a scratch..." he groaned, and later fell unconscious.
Silence.
Inugami raised an eyebrow. "…Kabane, Is the deer still kicking?"
"No." Kabane said, blinking. "He crushed it."
"Hmm." Inugami said, walking over eyeing the glowing canned coffee then the unconscious individual. "Interesting."