Eryk took a long, weary breath having just finished his three month excursion into sea monkeys flinging poop at each other, when a deafening, ear-splitting chime echoed through the multiverse, shaking stars and ruffling the cosmic tapestry itself. He winced as a blinding neon-orange notification appeared in front of him, hovering with the urgency of an unpaid credit card statement.
“COSMIC DEBT ALERT: IMMEDIATE PAYMENT REQUIRED. PLEASE REPORT TO THE DIMENSIONAL COLLECTION OFFICE.”
“Oh no,” Eryk whispered, gripping the onyx bird like a life raft having completely forgotten about the fever dream that supposedly happened three months earlier.
Dill, ever the dutiful pickle assistant, peered over his shoulder. “Creator, did you… forget to pay a cosmic bill?”
“No!” Eryk protested. “I didn’t even know I had cosmic bills! Besides, I’m a Cosmic Creator, not some interdimensional… mortgage holder!”
But it was too late. The multiverse itself heaved, twisting like it had caught a terrible cramp, and before Eryk could say “sea cucumber,” he and Dill were yanked through a vortex of flashing colors and elevator music. They tumbled end-over-end, cartwheeling through dimensions, until they landed in the least majestic place imaginable: a fluorescent-lit, intergalactic waiting room.
The walls were covered with motivational posters that screamed things like, “Don’t Forget to Document Your Reality-Bending Transactions!” and “Repossessed Stars: It Could Happen to You!” In the corner sat a receptionist, a disgruntled jellyfish in a sequined vest, filing papers with its tentacles.
Dill stared, wide-eyed. “Creator, is this…?”
“Yes, Dill,” Eryk replied, staring at the terrifyingly ordinary reception desk. “We’re in the Interdimensional Debt Collection Office.”
Before he could fully absorb the horror, the receptionist’s booming voice filled the room. “Eryk Bertel! Cosmic Account Number #347-Dimensions-Too-Many! Please step forward!”
With a groan, Eryk approached the desk, feeling like a teenager caught sneaking into a rated-R movie. The receptionist squinted at him through thick, bedazzled bifocals.
“Let’s see here,” the jellyfish receptionist drawled, tapping its tentacles on an old-fashioned typewriter that seemed to be powered by tiny, overworked hamsters. “Ah, yes. You’ve got an outstanding debt, sir, from several incarnations ago. Let’s go over your account details…”
Suddenly, a projection screen lowered from the ceiling, and a montage of Eryk’s past lives flashed across it like a bizarre cosmic slideshow. Each scene was accompanied by loud circus music and unflattering commentary from the receptionist:
“Here’s you, Eryk of the Swamp Realm, forgetting to pay your annual Goblin-Handling Fee.”
Eryk cringed as an image of himself, dressed in medieval overalls and holding an irritated goblin, flickered on the screen. The goblin was trying to bite his arm off, and Eryk, looking ten years younger and twice as naive, was clearly too petrified to do anything about it.
“Next, here’s Eryk of the Cosmic Coffee Shop, running a tab on twelve espressos made from Dark Matter Beans.”
On screen, a bewildered Eryk was being handed a steaming cup by a barista made entirely of stardust, his mouth gaping open at the price on the receipt.
“And this is my personal favorite,” the jellyfish receptionist continued, stifling a laugh as the screen shifted to show Eryk, dressed in an ancient toga, standing knee-deep in an interdimensional river. “Eryk of the Nile Dimension, attempting to barter with the Demon of Misplaced Souls over unpaid afterlife fees.”
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“Okay, okay, I get it!” Eryk protested, cheeks flushed. “How much do I owe?”
The jellyfish’s voice went icy. “Your outstanding debt, Mr. Bertel, is one trillion cosmic coins.” The receptionist paused for effect, then added with relish, “Plus fees and interest.”
Eryk’s stomach sank as the doors to the waiting room slammed open, and in marched a new figure: the very same demon from his memory, still holding his infernal clipboard, now accompanied by an entourage of small, fiendish goblins wearing suits and bowler hats, all of them chomping on cigars and holding briefcases.
The demon smiled, exposing a dazzling, utterly evil set of teeth. “Mr. Bertel! Finally here to settle up, are we?”
Eryk looked around wildly, as if hoping a cosmic hero might burst in and save him, but all he saw were a few bored cosmic beings scrolling through their interdimensional social media feeds. One of them was a sentient cloud that appeared to be live-streaming the whole scene, hashtagging it #DebtDrama and #CosmicFail.
“I don’t have a trillion coins!” Eryk spluttered, clutching Dill, who was inching slowly behind him.
The demon shrugged, flashing a too-wide smile. “Not my problem. But there’s good news! We offer repayment plans.”
Eryk perked up slightly. “Really?”
“Oh yes,” the demon said, grinning like a car salesman. “Option A: We repossess your soul, tear it into a thousand pieces, and scatter it across twelve universes. Very flexible terms.”
Eryk paled. “What’s… Option B?”
The demon’s grin widened. “You take on a series of jobs for us to pay down the debt. Think of it as… cosmic community service!”
Before Eryk could argue, the demon snapped his fingers, and in a flash, a contract appeared before him, unfurling like an accordion until it stretched all the way around the waiting room. The words “COSMIC WORK-FOR-DEBT PROGRAM” were emblazoned across the top in terrifying, glowing letters.
Without waiting, the demon shoved a pen into Eryk’s hand. “Just a signature here, here, and here… and we can start you on Job #1!”
With no other options, Eryk signed, his hand shaking as he scrawled his name across what felt like a mile of fine print.
Job #1: The Library of Forgotten Memories
In an instant, the waiting room vanished, replaced by a dimly lit, labyrinthine library stretching endlessly in every direction. The shelves were crammed with dusty books, each glowing faintly with a color that Eryk was certain defied known physics. A small, shriveled librarian, a figure with three heads, each wearing a tiny pair of reading glasses glared at him from behind the check-out desk.
“So, you’re the new help, are you?” one of the heads sneered, eyeing him up and down with an unimpressed frown. “About time! We have a situation in the Romance Novels section.”
Eryk, already feeling overwhelmed, glanced nervously at Dill. “What kind of… situation?”
The head on the left sniffed disdainfully. “An outbreak of sentient love triangles. You’ll need to herd them back into their books, and remember…don’t let them escape! Last time, two of them got loose, and now half the metaphysical section is married to the Science Fiction shelf!”
Before Eryk could process this, an entire flock of glowing, floating geometric shapes, each with sparkly pink eyes and adorable little bows floated into view, cooing softly at him like overenthusiastic doves.
“Quickly, now!” the center head barked. “They’re trying to seduce the cookbooks!”
Panicking, Eryk snatched up a nearby net, lunging at the love triangles, who giggled and flitted just out of reach, taunting him with high-pitched giggles.
“Oh, Creator,” Dill whispered, clutching his arm. “I think we’re in over our heads.”
Three Hours Later
Eryk, covered in glitter and stray book pages, finally shoved the last rogue love triangle back into its romance novel, slamming the cover shut as it let out one last plaintive “But, darling…!”
The librarian shot him a thin smile, pushing an ancient broom toward him. “Wonderful. Now, let’s talk about the interdimensional dust problem.”
Just then, Eryk’s wrist buzzed, and a new notification appeared:
“DEBT STATUS: 999,999,999.5 COSMIC COINS REMAINING. THANK YOU FOR YOUR HARD WORK!”
Eryk stared at the numbers, then glanced at Dill. “At this rate, I’ll be free in… three lifetimes?”
“Exactly!” the demon’s voice crackled over the intercom, laughing with cruel glee.
Eryk closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and did the only thing he could. He picked up the broom, resigned to an eternity of absurdity, dust, and sentient love triangles.
“Let’s get to work,” he muttered, as the multiverse continued to turn in chaotic, cosmic hilarity.