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“One quick question,” you stammer as your soul begins to leave your body. “You said I broke an unspoken sacred law of the Crossword Universe, right?”
“That is correct,” Kyle bellows.
“So how was I supposed to know about this law if it’s unspoken? I mean, in all fairness, it should be in writing at the top of each puzzle. If you took my soul I could take you to court over it, and that wouldn’t look good so early in your career as a god, would it?”
“You drive a hard bargain. I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but only because you’re the first person that’s been honest about my God name options.”
In an instant, Kyle is gone and everything has been reverted to the way it was just before you finished the crossword. You decide that some things are more important than keeping your resolutions and crumple the puzzle into a ball.
Later that day you give your ex-girlfriend a call, and the two of you end up working everything out. Six weeks later, the two of you get married. Kyle, who changes his name to Skeletorgue with the help of your advice, is the best man at your wedding and the two of you become lifelong friends. Quade becomes unstrapped on a roller coaster and falls to his death, much to your satisfaction, and Skeletorgue moves into his house.
You spend the next sixty years in utter bliss, enjoying every moment of the new lease on life you’ve been given. You father three beautiful children, all of whom grow up to be successful lawyers. You reach a level of satisfaction in your career that most people only dream of, and retire at age sixty to live in the tropics with your loving wife, who’s still as beautiful and charming as she was the day you met her. You win the lottery, but instead of using the money for selfish reasons you give half of it to charity and the other half to your twin brother because he’s going through some really tough financial issues (even though he’s too proud to admit it, you can read his mind and know that he needs your help). Best of all, you’re in great shape and doctors expect you to live healthily to the remarkable age of one hundred and thirty. Everyone you know regards you as a fun, respectable and genuinely wonderful human being, and you could not be happier with your place in the universe.
Then you wake up and realize the last sixty years were all a dream. Your entire house is flooded with ink, and all of your pets have drowned in it. Also, you have no legs.
Your excursion ends here.
2 years ago • Notes