It had been... millenia? Eons? I don't really know. I was here a long time. Occasionally someone else would need a rules check, and we'd chat while Grim sorted the mess. I was backburner so long, I think he sort of... Stopped. He'd looked for loopholes, went over every second of my life, tried every trick, called in every favor, but each time he thought it was sorted, something new came up.

My backpacking in Europe put me back on Valhalla's radar when they found I'd passed out drunk on Ymir's kneecap or something, but then I'd also broken some fae laws on the trip, so their gods came into play, and so forth for all of time. Literally all of time.

"The last living thing just died," Grim said, massaging his temples. "And the final few embers are fading in the universe. I'll have to step out to collect its consciousness, and it might take a bit to judge. After that, I cease to exist."

"Wait, what? What happens to me?" I'd never really stressed about my afterlife before. Neither pre- nor post-death had made it a worry, even as the debate raged on for my soul.

The reaper gave a shrug. "I guess we'll see. Well, you will. I hope you know, I really hate you and am praying it is worse than the bowels of the worst hells."

"You hate me? What like this is my fault? You had one job!"

"Oh, what, Karen? You gonna ask for my manager?"

"Uh... Do you have a manager? I sort of assumed you'd have talked to them by now if you did."

"No, I don't have manager! Is your name Karen? It was an insulting condescension, you twit!"

I never took it well when people insulted my intelligence, I admit, and taking a swing at Death was not my brightest moment, but I gotta say, feeling his jaw crunch under my fist was one of the best things to happen to mean in that waiting room. He came back at me with a swift kick to the groin, which I still think was unfair. Both because I couldn't retaliate in kind, and because being dead seems like it should be a defense against that pain.

As I writhed on the floor, he stood over me. "Fine, forget it. I'm done. You go collect the universal consciousness."

"Wha-ow ow ow-what are you going to do?"

He paused, thinking. "Ah, screw it. I have no idea. I'm about to de-exist here."

"Dang, man. That's not fair. You do all this work for others just to disappear. Hey, you ever make out with the tree girl?"

"What? Ana? No."

"You go do that. I'm going to figure out this universe mess."

"Not to be a pessimist, but you can't figure out your own mess."

"Then it will take a while. More time for you and barkskin to spend together. She isn't my type, but you're definitely hers. Trust me, I was the best wingman back in the day. Now go."

He opened his mouth to say something else when an ebony arm reached out of thin air, then pulled him in after. I was alone in the waiting room. Not a first time, but it was a first time it happened for this reason. I walked over to his desk and started looking in the book.

"Universal consciousness... Universal... Consciousness..." I flipped lazily through, in no rush to do this job, but wanting to ensure I didn't screw anything else up like I had done with pretty much everything in my afterlife. Actually, I'd pretty well screwed up in my regular life as well.

"Excuse me," a woman's voice called from the other side of the desk. "Are you the Grim Reaper?"

"Uh, that's what it says on the nameplate."

She glanced at the metal plate on the triangular stand, which did, in fact, say "Grim Reaper," as I'd said. Technically, I didn't lie.

"Oh, you look different than I expected." I finally looked up from the book to see a redhead. What can I say, I have a weakness. And I sure didn't learn better from the mess with Sylvia and my soul.

"What, you looking for a skeleton? I have one inside me." Ok, countless ages may have weakened my pick up lines. "Sorry. You probably want to get on with your afterlife. You know where you're going?"

"I thought that was your job to sort out."

"Uh, yeah, but we normally have reps come in to make there claims. Weird no one is showing up."

"Maybe nobody wants my soul."

"Heh, that'd be a new one. Seems like everyone tried to claim mine. Don' t take it personally, I was nothing great. Just lived a bit wild, if short, life. How about you?"

"I don't really know. It seem short, but compared to others? I suppose it was long, but mostly amounted to nothing."

"I don't think any life amounts to nothing," I said.

And I think here is where we leave our hero, oblivious to the identity of the consciousness he is poorly attempting to flirt with, but happy for one more chance to hook up with a redhead. Not a bad afterlife at all, if you ask me.