3. [WP] You have a very specific skill. When you die, you go to hell. But instead o...

[WP] You have a very specific skill. When you die, you go to hell. But instead of torture and torment- The Devil wants to hire you.

"Is there a...uhmm...mister..." mumbled the posh voice from behind her computer monitor.

"Skinner? A Mr. Skinner?"

Poshy arched a glance over her monitor. There were only two other people in the room aside from her: a man, and a woman. Myself, being the man, looked up from the decades old issue of International Angler I had been perusing. My gaze met hers as she annoyedly repeated, "Mr. Skinner?"

"No, ma'am."

A posh flinch.

"Who are ya then?"

"Erm...I'm Daniels, ma'am. Charlie Daniels."

She cast me a sarcastic glance.

"Like the fiddler? You know she doesn't like jokes, right?"

"Well, yes—and no. I am Charlie. Charles, if you will, but I'm no fiddler. I...well, I WAS a Samaritan. Never touched a fiddle in my life...nor in my afterlife for that matter. Any coincidence is merely that."

Poshy narrowed her eyes a bit more. After a few seconds she sighed, and ducked back behind her monitor.

"Bloody Skinner...it's been damn near twelve years with that name on the list! Why do I keep asking if he ain't gonna show?"

"So...do I go..." I began to trail.

"You what?" Poshy barked with a bit of salt.

"Should I go in?"

"You just said you're not Skinner," she said flatly.

"And I'm not," I said.

"Then why would you get to go in?"

"Be...cause...there's only two of us, yeah? And—excuse me if I'm out of line, ma'am," I nodded to my fellow que'ee, "But she doesn't seem like much of a Mister Skinner."

"Yeah? You must've been a bloody detective before all that Samaritan work.  I know who she is. She's been here for ages. This is her purgatory. You just said you wasn't Mr. Skinner. I called for Mr. Skinner. Why would you get to go in if you ain't Mr. Skinner?"

She was clearly annoyed.

"I just thought—"

"Quit thinking. It'll get you into less rubble."

As she melded back into the glow of her monitor; I turned back to International Angler, June 1982.

"She's a tart one, eh?" I thought, sliding behind the brittled pages.

"What's got her nickers in a twist? Must be rough sitting on your duff, yelling at people—Oh! Rapala's Shad Raps! Quite nice, if I were an angler. I'll have to look into those when I find a lake not on fire..."

TBC

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[SP] No matter how much you drink you can't forget [WP] An adventuring party is hired to collect back taxes of a local dragon [WP] You wake up in the middle of the night with your paralysis demon cowering in the corner of your room, scared to death of whatever stands at the end of your bed. [WP] In a dingy, cyberpunk city, civility is a word missing from almost every gang's vocabulary, except for one. With the trappings of the romanticised mobsters of the 30s, they're equal parts loved and lauded for their strict code of conduct. You play by The Family's rules, or you're outta here. [WP] Turns out everyone's religion is "true," and they go to the afterlife they believe in most. You, an atheist, have just died. And the universe took you at your word when you joked about worshiping the Flying Spaghetti Monster. [WP] "Hey man, seeing ya after 5 years. How's life been?", "Just the same old, pal. Nothing much happened.", "Bro... I see you missing a hand and a leg.. your left eye is glowing green.. and your dog is constantly covered in BLUE flames... How in the world you feel nothing much happened?" [WP] An over-thinking scientist continually devises plans to get the main hero to notice them, though all of their attempts end up misinterpreted as desperate attempts to take over the world [WP] A creature beyond comprehension watches you, your every move is narrated in a calming voice all around you that you can’t pinpoint, and you believe you see cameras right outside your field of vision. [WP] While checking out an abandoned island with your new friends, you decide to look at the local pictures online. The only one nearby is a photo of you and your friends posted a month ago, before any of you even met. [WP] a witch is hired by some troubled parents, to frighten children into getting fit. [WP] "Attention, denizens of the Underworld. One among you tried to blackmail me, stating that unless I did as you wish, you would make public photos of me having a 'fairy princess' tea party with my human goddaughter in the Mortal Realm. I released those pictures for viewing myself this morning." [WP] As a little kid, you liked to pull harmless pranks on the local cryptids. As you grew older you realized the danger of going out into the woods and stopped visiting them. Turns out, the cryptids had fond memories of your antics and want to come and see you again. [WP] You are a supervillain who went undercover as a superhero for jokes, only to discover how corrupt the system is in the hero society. The system is so corrupt that you agree to lead a small group of superheroes to rebel against the unjust hero society. [WP] Everyone in the galactic community had heard the tales of Human endurance, it had been the stuff of story or nightmare in the decades since first contact. But nothing had prepared the Galactic Council for the first time a human representative broke out the Filibuster. [WP] You appear in an infinite white void of a room with nothing more than yourself, and a white piece of paper which reads, “You have been banned from existence.”

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