“I am Frederik Audrey, and I am in front of you today because I am a true warrior. I died doing battle as any true warrior should.”

This speech would have sounded better if I wasn’t sitting in a plastic chair. In front of me sat 5 of the most hardened warriors to ever cross into Valhalla. In life I was a die hard atheist. Turns out, I fucked up and gods are real.. No other god would have me because I wasn’t one of the faithful. So here I am, if I can prove I am a warrior to these fine gentleman then I get to go to a happy place. If not then the various underworlds are going to draw straws on my soul.

“What foe where you fighting,” the one in the middle grunted out.

“Hunger.” Did I mention that I died fixing breakfast.

They laughed. “How is hunger a valid foe to be fighting.” I wasn’t sure who asked.

I take a breath and stand, “ in your lives did any of you ever truly defeat hunger or did you only ever press back its attacks.” They blinked. “My goal wasn’t a temporary victory. I wanted domination. I wanted to make hunger cry all the way back to its mommy.”

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They laughed.

“So what weapon did the noble warrior use,” the one on the left asked.

“I was using a tempered steel spatula with a carbon fiber grip. It had an ergonomic grip allowing me to hold on to it no matter how slippery it got in battle.”

They looked at each other and nodded their appriciation.

“So how did you die. “

“He must have been planning his attack for months. One second I’m standing there caring out my battle plan when I’m engulfed in flames.”

They nod at a warrior off to the side. He comes over, grabs my arm and literally drags me out of the room.

In a flash I’m standing on a field of green grass across from me are thousands of warriors in various armors and carrying weapons from sticks to modern military rifles. I look down. I’m in a checkered bathrobe holding a spatula. Fuck me.