I was a little disappointed. I was expecting magic to summon hordes of customers from the ether. In fact, as I stared into the gray fog, no customers appeared. I mentally bargained that I would give them another ten minutes to show up. Those ten minutes were spent staring at gray fog. I conceded, moving to stand behind the counter. It was just like Charlie to let me down, even in my hour of need. I needed to be less bored.

It occurred to me I would be less bored if I had some kind of tech magazine, now that I finally had the chance to relax. No wife. No children. Just a food truck in the afterlife before my Afterlife. I got my magazine. It appeared right next to me where I sat on the uncomfortable flooring.

The magazine, unfortunately, was not a technology magazine. It was a magazine about decorating a home or a garden. It could even help with the home and the garden. It was my wife’s favorite magazine.

“You’re kind of a dick, Charlie.”

There was no response. I was still trying to figure out if I preferred his presence or absence. I settled in to flip through the magazine, pushing it from my head. It didn’t matter, either way. The first two pages were a full two-page advertisement for a brand of paint. The next two pages were a full-size picture of a different paint brand, featuring a wall.

With the distinctive feeling I was watching paint dry, I flipped through the rest of the magazine to kill time. I wasn’t really upset to have a break – a rather lengthy one – from my family. I was a little upset, however, at my lack of concern. I began to wonder if I really was in shock when my attention was rudely arrested.

“Chef Boy!” I heard the voice from the front window. With a sigh, I set down the magazine as an echoing bing chimed through the walls of my little truck. The only thing I owned in the whole of Purgatory. Well, that and the magazine. Two strikes for my first customer: the name and the bell.

Pushing myself up to look out the window, I saw a man appearing to be in his mid-twenties. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ll take a carnivore taco,” the man said. “The name sounds metal as he-” He cut himself off halfway through the word. He sheepishly added, “you know what I mean.” He was wearing a black t-shirt with black jeans. On top of his head was a black beanie.

“Yeah, alright,” I said, grumbling it through my teeth. Apparently, this was my job. Might as well stick with it. Anything to keep me from the stupid home décor magazine. I could not survive a second pass.

I pulled the beef out of the refrigerator and threw it out on the griddle – grill – whatever it is.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The other guy stared at me while the beef was cooking, which was super uncomfortable. I would do anything to avoid the magazine, including talking to whoever this random guy was.

“What’s your name, dude?” I asked.

“Huh?” he said, shocked out of his stare. For a moment, I worried he was some kind of non-player guy conjured by the game. Relief flooded when he finally spoke up again. Talking to NPCs was the worst.

“Oh, I’m David. Good to meet you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Will,” I said, flipping the ground beef over to the other side. I smashed it with a spare spatula I found. I’d heard plenty of different arguments about whether or not you squeeze the grease out. I enjoyed the sizzling noise. Not caring about food quality was refreshing. After all, it was just a bunch of souls. None of it really mattered.

“We appreciate you setting up shop, Will. We really needed something like this around here.”

I didn’t reply, since I didn’t really care about David, what he thought, or what he needed. I tried to look fancy, swiping the meat around the grill as it cooked. All I accomplished was knocking a chunk of the beef down the grease trap. That was a failure and a half. I couldn’t afford to waste money, because I needed to talk Charlie into selling me a bigger truck.

The meat finally reached a mostly cooked type of temperature. I was pretty sure. I didn’t check, but it looked pretty much brown. I pulled out a serving boat, tossed the spatula to the side, and dumped the beef into the boat. I was plenty pleased as I handed the entrée over to my first customer.

“This is just meat inside of a serving boat,” David said.

“You bet it is, David. And I hope you enjoy it.”

“What’s the name of your restaurant? I wanna tell everyone about it. You're the only restaurant around. The only one in Purgatory, anyway.”

I couldn't believe this idiot was willing to accept ground beef in a paper boat, let alone he planned to share the place with his friends. I looked him square in the eyes and said, “My restaurant is called ‘Get out of my face, David’, so leave me alone.” To his credit, he did leave me alone. It was good timing since I was distracted by a small notice on my screen. Soul vision thing. Whatever.

The restaurant name “Get out of my face, David!” has been accepted.

There was another small notification waiting for me. I watched as a small sign fell from the sky. Leaving my truck to inspect it, I found a neatly scrawled sign. It was pretty, aside from the fact it declared my new restaurant name in bold lettering. Charlie was obviously off somewhere having a riot. I decided then and there on a conversation with the big guy when I got upstairs. There was one more notification waiting for me, so I took a look.

You have sold “Carnivore Taco” for 6C. Current Funds: 6C.

“Copy that Charlie,” I said, chuckling to myself. “Get it? Like the military lingo?”

There was no response from the Angel, so I found my way back into my truck. Nine more of those and I would have a total of sixty Charlie bucks. I didn’t know anything about what such funds could buy me. By the time I finished my first customer, I was hoping it would buy me a day off. I didn't need a bigger truck.