I am a simple man with extremely complicated needs. I know not what I want, but I am beyond certain it is not this. I stand at the top of a knoll. I am uncertain of the exact definition of a knoll but I am sure this is one. The grass is still wet from the brisk September morning. I feel it on my uncovered feet and shiver; the lack of any garments on my upper body causing more than mild discomfort. The clear rays of sunrise on my face. My shoulder length, vogue worthy, mane of black hair is blown playfully around my face in the morning breeze. A knife is less playfully held to my neck. 

A truly unfortunate and unforeseeable series of misjudgments has led me here, all involved are equally baffled by how we arrived here. Me, Shirtless, shoeless, helpless. Her furious, exhausted, and aggressively bisexual. The dog chewing on the remains of Mr.Combs lower body. Maybe I should attempt to run again?

 

“I swear to god I will not hesitate to slit your neck if you so much as breathe to fast Pax.'' 

 

The threat is effective despite the little house one the prairies-esk sundress she wears today.

 

“Staying still”

 

 My quick reply forces my adams apple to shave itself on her knife.

Our eyes are locked and I think I see a glimmer of regret and sympathy, I have no Idea why. It is undeserved. 

 

“I am truly sorry about the way things turned out. I thought I could handle this on my own when that has proven to not be the case.”

 

 I say as my eyes attempt to slide past the bisected corpse. They land on the green lantern lunch box, still locked with the bike lock and lying unattended on the red grass.

 

“What should we do now Maria?”

 

 The soft whisper is filled with both resignation and self-loathing.

 

“We will be doing nothing Pax. I will be taking a few seconds to recover my facilities and then deciding on how to get the police here without you running off and killing more people.” 

 

A fair plan of action for her. Maria may only come up to my chin but her fury has made her tower over me. The knife does not detract from her looming form either.

 

“I know you wont believe me Maria but I won’t fight you on this. I know what I did and I honestly am tired of this god forsaken mess. Maybe letting the government make my choices for the rest of my life will be a form of freedom all its own.”

 

 My melodramatic declaration does not impress her if the dainty snort is anything to go by.

 

“I am beyond numb right now Pax. The death, betrayal, and rage has emptied me out. Just fucking shut up and dont move for a while.”

 

 her hand reaches towards her jacket pocket as thunder begins to crackle above.

 

“May god have mercy on you Pax Alexander Kane.”

 

A violent oppressive whiteness invades my senses and I am no more.

.

.

.

And then I am more once again. 

.

.

.

“Huh”

 

 my puzzled huff floats into the kitchen. My kitchen to be exact. How did I end up here? What happened to me? Dead body, knife, maria, dog, knoll, her reaching for her phone, white fuzzy pain. That's really all I'm remembering. My head swivels. My kitchen is not right. The colors don't seem as alive. The shades are all the same to my eye but my brain is telling me something is missing, the feeling is alien and unsettling.

 

“My bad, forget to make it a human standard color palette.”

 

A gloriously mustached, terribly refined, and shockingly thin man snaps his fingers. How did I miss him? He is sitting across the table from me, back to the window framing him in hanging vine plants and suburban Ohio. He is wearing a white robe of some kind with black and gold embroidery that sometimes floats off onto the surrounding walls and furniture. I am certain his mustache has no equal in this world, thicc and exquisite are the only words that will do it justice.

 

“It would seem you are distracted by my exemplary facial hair. No need to feel ashamed, it happens to everyone.”

 

 He pauses and steeples his fingers. He makes eye contact with me and I am both disappointed and relieved to see his eyes are simply…brown. Mundane, yet warm and welcoming all the same.

 

“I am terribly sorry for this mix up Mr.Kane. I assure you things like this happen once in a millennium, maybe twice if we are particularly unlucky. I am working from my end this very moment to ensure that this issue will be resolved to your satisfaction.”

 

 His powerful voice brings the emperors of ancient Rome to mind. Sonars and measured. He seems to be waiting for a reply from me. Luckily I have at least two libraries worth of questions to ask, firstly

 

“Huh?”

 

Yes, that will surely get across my utter befuddlement and complete lack of context.

 

“Ah, I see. I am being a poor mediator. I simply got a little too excited at the opportunity to stretch my metaphysical legs once again. All this interdimensional ineffable cosmic power and nowhere to put it you see young man?”

 

I in fact did not see, and to be honest at the moment I don't think I wanted to.

 

“You see my boy what has happened is that through a one in a billion series of chance encounters, small mistakes, and possibly one nudge from a forbidden goddess, you have been wrongfully smote. Truly an egregious error on my part. Due to the bylaws of this particular sector of the multiverse, and by the grace of our enlightened lady Veronica I was authorized to use the power of temporal reversion to drag you back through time to the previous day and allow you to avoid your untimely demise. Now isn't that lovely” 

His voice becomes more chipper as he explains my death and subsequent rebirth. Now who in the hell is this man exactly and why does he have the powers of a god. Also multiverse? Lady Veronica? Time travel? This is very jarring and unpleasant to say the least, and I haven't even begun to unravel how I feel about the emotional catastrophe that was yesterday. Okay let's stick to what is  important. 

 

“Well thank you I guess? What in the hell is supposed to happen now? And if you wouldn’t mind, multiverse and cosmic powers? How and why and what the fuck?”

My questions rise sharply in pitch as I become more uncentered and confused as my mind processes the information at a speed comparable to an antique laptop. 

 

“As far as the multiverse and cosmic powers go That is classified information. Your civilization is only rank 2, but do not fret, you have only a few hundred years to make it to rank 3 and some of those questions will be answered then. As far as what happens now? Usually nothing, but lucky for you I am just the deity you need.”

 

With a cheshire grin he flourishes his hand and gives me a business card. Startlingly white and embossed with I can only assume is is the inky blackness of space made solid, his business card read

 

“Archaic yet horrendously modern, I love it.”

 

I let out a small stiff laugh. It was a good business card though I questioned the practicality of it, how many unjust smitings could one universe really have? But the small laugh did help me to relax a bit, taking some of the edge off of my rising panic.

 

“Yes I was quite pleased with myself for this one. Anyways, on to business.”

He says this and follows it with a clap. This causes my kitchen table to become an imposing mahogany desk worth of a rockafeller. He similarly has transformed his robe into a posh suit with accompanying black rimmed glasses. In his hands he holds what I can only assume is an exaggeratedly oversized legal document.

 

“From what I'm reading here I believe you are entitled to one wish granted by the cosmos itself, free of any and all stipulations.”

 

He looks over his glasses at me. His eyes glinting with shrewdness.

 

“We can do a lot with that Mr.Kane. Quite a lot.”