Ronny awoke with a confused look on his face. He got up on his feet and examined the surroundings.

The place he found himself in was my sister’s coffee shop. I’d hadn’t intended to be there when he died, but it is what it is, I guess. It was a nice, trendy café, with dark-stained wood floors and white, shiplap walls. Its gimmick was that everything in the store was several times larger than should they should have been.

If you were there, you’d have to stand on your chair to reach the table. Despite the unorthodox nature, customers seemed to enjoy the novelty of it; and business was good.

Anyways, back to Ronny. He frantically eyed the clientele, who eyed him back with amused expressions. Even though everyone there had seen it dozens of times, watching mortals react to their deaths never got old.

Ronny opened his mouth to shout but closed it before anything came out. By now, he understood that he was dead—and that the cause was murder. What he didn’t yet know was why.

After watching him for a while, I decided that it would be embarrassing if he started disturbing the other patrons, so I called him over, “Ronny McKitty, right?” I feigned ignorance over the events that brought him there, “Come over here please.”

He shouted back angrily, “Who the hell are you!? Where am I?” He started stomping his way over to me.

I looked to my sister’s customers and gave an apologetic look. He was responding poorly and causing a fuss. I jumped down from my chair and started approaching him, “In human terms, I’m a god; and this is a coffee shop.”

He didn’t say anything as he walked toward me. Ronny had a vengeance in his eye, and I wondered if he would try to attack me.

As he got close, I started explaining the situation, “So uh, I can see that you’re not taking this well, but let me explain the situation…” Before I could finish, he took a swing at my face. That was bold.

The attempt did of course, fail. His punch missed by a good margin and because being a god meant that my luck was on a level capable of altering reality, he slipped on a banana peel. Ronny landed face first on the floor, and the fall looked painful.

“So, as I was saying, you just died—by murder, I think... It’s understandable that you’re a bit ticked off, but to be honest, that’s not my problem.” He got himself off the ground, breathing heavily. Ronny had gone a few years without much in the way of exercise, so that little display of aggression he’d put on took a lot out of him. Before he could say anything, I continued, “You probably already know this without me telling you, but you were kind of a failure during your life. I didn’t see anything to indicate that you’d do anything to remedy that, so I decided to cut your life on Earth short.”

“You, k-killed me? How is that even possible!?” His anger had departed somewhat. Now, he sounded confused.

“Oh Ronny, you have no idea what’s possible. I had a hitman originating from another plane of existence put a bullet in your brain. I trust it was a painless death?”

He seemed to be at a loss for words.

I called over to the barista, asking him to make Ronny a cup of coffee, I then jumped over to the table I’d been at before he arrived, “Come, take a seat. I have some stuff to tell you.”

Ronny looked at the chair, which was taller than him. I then remembered that someone with his level of fitness couldn’t do a six-foot vertical jump, not even with great effort. Heck, he probably wasn’t even strong enough to climb up.

I snapped my finger and teleported him into a chair adjacent to mine.

“H-how?” He took a few steps backward, almost falling off the chair.

“What, teleportation?” I couldn’t help but smile at his bewilderment, “That’s nothing special here. Please do remember that I am a god.” The barista threw over our coffee, one cup for him and a refill for me. The cups landed upright on the table, neatly place in front of us.

In his shocked state, he forgot to be angry for a second, “R-right. But why am I dead?”

“Well, you did get shot. That would do it.” I took a sip, “But that’s not what you mean, is it? Like I said, the reason I arranged for you to get shot was because you never would have amounted to anything if I left things as they were.

His anger came back, “And who are you to say that!? I was still young! Plenty of noteworthy people don’t do anything special until they get older.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true… but not in your family. Your mother won the Nobel Prize for literature when she was eighteen, didn’t she? And your dad was worth more than a hundred million by the time he left high school. The story is the same with your ancestors and it could have been true for you as well.” I took another sip, “But you suffered from a severe case of complacency. If I didn’t step in, it probably never would have been cured.”

“How I live my life is my business only! And how did you know my ancestors?”

“Your life is my business though, Ronny. I’ve been cultivating your bloodline for generations—so in a way, I’m indirectly responsible for your existence. The reason your ancestors were so successful is because I gave them every advantage I could. I did the same for you, but you wasted your gifts by confining yourself to that little bungalow of yours. I waited years for something to change, but that never happened.”

His coffee sat in front of him, untouched, “But why? Why would you do that?”

I gave the truthful answer, “After members of the McKitty family die, their souls come into my possession. I can then use them—and their talents—to my benefit. I intend to do the same with you, by the way.”

“I… I won’t be your slave. I’d rather die!”

“Well that’s nice, but I don’t really care,” I turned to look him in the eye, “This conversation isn’t going anywhere, is it? We can talk more later, after you get situated in the place I’m sending you to.”

“You’re sending me somewhere?”

“Yeah. You’re pretty useless to me at the moment, so I’m sending you somewhere that’ll fix that.”

With the snap of my fingers, he was gone. I sighed and wondered what would become of the guy.