What is it with Kevins? They always seemed too confident in themselves, thought they had the absolute best ideas all the time, and had a penchant for breaking things as a result. First, there was that one Kevin that thought it would be a great idea to let his nephew design the company logo because said nephew had a pirated some design software, so Kevin thought it would save money that way. The end result was some haphazard, very amateurish looking…monstrosity that ended up costing the company business. Even so, Kevin had to stick by it because he honestly thought it was a fabulous design even after we all pointed out that it looked vaguely, um…sexual. He didn’t believe us and accused us of making up all the customer complaints about it. Then there was the Kevin from IT who thought it would be a good idea to redo access to files on the network. During working hours. In his words: “So I can take care of it right now instead of waiting until the end of the day!” Oh, and the other Kevin who decided that promoting from within was a bad idea for the company because we’d never get fresh perspectives, so only external applicants were hired, leaving anyone entering the company with the hopes of being able to move up languishing in the same position forever. This was also qualified with the statement that everyone should retain one job because it was “better to become an expert in something—even if it’s just bagging groceries really well—than waste time learning new stuff before you’ve mastered the old stuff.” Today, a Kevin thought it would be a good idea to end my life. “Hi, so I hope this is ok, but you’re dead now,” said the dark-haired man in front of me, hands pressed together, his fingertips pointed in my direction. He had a goatee and was wearing a nicely pressed button shirt and jeans with some expensive-looking shoes. I raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?” “You’re dead,” said the man with a shrug, as though there was nothing odd about the situation. I blinked. “Ok, so hold on one second. Who are you?” “Your maker,” he said matter-of-factly. “My name is Kevin! Hi!” I narrowed my eyes. “Right…” “You know the phrase, don’t you? ‘Meet your maker?’ As in, ‘Oh, he’s gone to meet his maker?’” “Sure I do,” I said, “But usually said maker is God. Are you telling me that you are God? And that God’s name is Kevin?” Kevin barked a laugh, shaking his head. “You always were really funny, but no,” he said with a wide grin. “Although if you ask me, I should be. I have a lot of great ideas about answering prayers, as in we should just give everyone what they want. God—whose name is just ‘God,’ not Kevin—says that’s not how you do prayers, but I’ve been watching and I have seen a lot of people stop believing because their prayers don’t get answered. If we answered them, then they’d keep believing. Simple! I can’t understand where there’s a problem in that, but you know God. You can’t tell him what to do.” “Right,” I replied again, giving him the side eye. “So. What does that make you, then? Some kind of angel?” “I already told you, I’m your maker. I’m amaker, actually. There are a bunch of us, actually, and I am yours.” “Ok. Right…ok. I am nuts. I am…standing out in an alleyway, talking to a guy who believes he makes people. As though there’s nothing absurd about that.” “I mean, you don’t have to believe me, but that’s the truth,” Kevin said, leaning up against the brick wall of the building opposite me. “Did you know I made Christopher Riggs?” “The city planner?” Kevin nodded enthusiastically. “Great guy, right?” “Well, I guess that explains the ridiculous traffic problems we started having after he took over.” “Don’t worry about that!” said Kevin. “There will be some growing pains, but after that, this city will have the smoothest traffic. Rush hour will be completely eliminated.” “Uh-huh. So about the part where I’m supposedly dead…” “Ah, yes! I needed to do that because I have this great idea. I kind of screwed something up when I made you so now I need to fix that, but the only way to do it was to kill you.” “Funny, I don’t remember dying at any point. In fact, I remember coming out here about 10 minutes ago for a smoke break,” I said, holding up my still lit cigarette. “And look. That appears to be what I am still doing. So, if it’s not too much to ask, can you please go away?” Kevin laughed and snatched cigarette from hand. “Hey!” I protested. “What are you doing?” “You’re dead, man. You don’t need that anymore!” He then dropped it and snuffed it out. “I. Don’t. Remember. Dying. I am thus not dead. You just kind of showed up and you’re insane. Or I am. I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing you walk up, come to think. But I do know that I am not dead.” “Ah, well, you would think that,” said Kevin. “I made you like that. See, you can’t remember when bad things happen to you. That was my idea. Cool, right? You can’t ever be traumatized!” “I—” I stopped and searched my memories. He was right. I couldn’t think of any time in my life where I had experienced something truly terrible. I had never lost a loved one. I had never struggled or suffered. I haven’t even stubbed my toe particularly badly on anything before. Kevin leaned back up against the wall, looking proud of himself. “See? It was a good idea I had. No one else agreed. Hey, did you know you used to have a sister?” “I’m an only child, Kevin.” “No, you’re not. It’s just that she died in a tragic car accident about 10 years ago. You don’t remember it.” “What? None of this makes any sense! If that had happened, wouldn’t my parents remember and mention it at some point? Or did you ‘make’ them, too?” “Oh, no,” Kevin said. “I wasn’t responsible for them. It’s just that any time they brought her up, you instantly forgot about it.” “Wouldn’t that cause a lot of problems? I mean, I must have responded strangely, then, any time that happened. Like insensitive, maybe? Distant? Unaffected?” Kevin shook his head, smile broadening. “Oh, no, you reacted perfectly normally. You just don’t remember it. You can’t remember pain.” This was… I was going crazy. That’s what was happening. Or I was talking to someone who was really crazy. Or both. Maybe I should just keep playing along. “Alright, Kevin. So now that I’m dead, what’s the next step?” He stepped forward and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “My man, you are going to love this. I’m going to remake you double-jointed.” “What? You had to kill me for that!? Why is that even worth— You know what? No. I’m not dead. You’re just a crazy person and I am going to strangle you for possibly making me crazy, too. And also late back to work.” “Trust me, you’ll like it! I hear it’s lots of fun. I can’t modify someone I’ve made when they’re alive, so that’s why I had to kill you. You ever heard of reincarnation? Some people remember their past lives somehow, but that’s basically what it is, just some of us makers having a do-over. No worries, before you know it you’ll be back to where you were when you left off. Give or take a couple decades.” “Kevin, what does that even mean? What are you doing?” “It’s been fun!” Kevin said, taking a step back and giving me a cheerful wave. “Have fun with your newfound flexibility! You’ll be the life of all the parties you go to, I guarantee it! And if not, we’ll just start over again and then hopefully the sixth time will be the charm!” “Sixth?? What else have you done with me?” “Later, man! Hopefully we don’t see each other again too soon. I’m still upset I had to start you over after only a few years the second time I made you. That was kind of tragic, but oh well. That’s how it goes sometimes. Not every idea can be gold. Catch you later, my man!”

“Hey, you want to see something cool?” I asked the small crowd near the punch bowl. “Check this out. It’s a neat little party trick I have.” I started bending my arm, but was interrupted when I noticed I was suddenly the only one in the room… …aside from some strange gentleman I had never seen before. Dark-haired and with a neatly trimmed goatee. “Hi again!” he said with a wave. “Do I know you?” I looked around. “What’s happening? Where did everyone go?” “Oh, you’re dead,” said the man. “My name is Kevin. I wish I didn’t have to reintroduce myself every time, but what can you do, right? So anyway, I had another great idea, but, well, you know. You can’t make changes when your creation is still alive.” “What?” What was in that punch bowl anyway? This was definitely some weird kind of…something. Kevin bobbed his head and gave a small shrug. “I mean, we’ve done this a few times. I just keep thinking of cool new ideas to try, though.” “Ignoring the fact that this all sounds insane, you sound a lot like my old boss. His name was also Kevin and he likewise seemed to think he always had good ideas. They weren’t, by the way.” “Well, mine are,” said Kevin. “They’re the greatest ideas.” “Yeah, I doubt that,” I said flatly. What is it with Kevins?