[ WP ] When you die the afterlife is an arena where you face every insect and animal you killed in your life . If you win you go to heaven , lose you go to hell . Your job was an exterminator on earth .

“ Oh fuck, fuck fuuuuuck ” he thought, panting for breath after he managed to jump behind a pillar, that had fallen over after the first hectic minutes in the arena. Who would have thought that a stampede of cockroaches, acting as a single organism, had such a strength that they brought down the pillar on which he stood five minutes before with ease. 
 
 
 He facepalmed himself, thinking about his stupidity earlier: Had he chosen the flamethrower that was amongst the armoury he had been presented with, he now might stand a chance. Instead he had just started to laugh into the old guys face, not believing what he had told him. Pinching his arm would have no consequence, he knew that this wasn ’ t a dream. That he apparently must have died when that truck suddenly stepped out of line and approached him without hitting the breaks soon enough. 
 
 
 Now he was dead, that was certain. But is this how you ’ d imagine the afterlife? That you must face all the animals that you killed during your lifetime in a death-match arena, with a weapon of your choosing, one species at a time? No, this isn ’ t the scenario that always comes to your mind when you think about what happens after drawing your last breath on earth. You ’ d think there was an old guy at a golden gate with a nice ornament and behind the gate perhaps a stairway leading upwards. At the end you could see a heart-warming source of light and perhaps Eden, some angels with little harps flying around. Perhaps the old guy would read a bit from the book in front of him, what you did during your life, the good, the bad, and perhaps some of the ugly as well. But then you were granted access into God ’ s paradise, whether or not you ’ ve believed in him during your lifetime. 
 
 
 Yes, this sounded way better than a grumpy looking man, who had told him five minutes ago about the rules of the competition he was about to enter. That he must face all the creatures on earth he had wronged, one species at a time, to gain access to Heaven. Should he fail with this task, he was denied access and had to descend into the “ Netherworld ” as it was referred to. 
 
 
 However, he didn ’ t have to go unprepared. A weapon of his choosing would be presented to him if need be. Would have, had he spent his time thinking rather than laughing in this guys face. 
 
 
 “ HEY, DO YOU NEED IT NOW? ” 
 
 
 He had almost forgotten where he was and accepted his fate, when he heard the grumpy gatekeeper call for him from a hole in the roof of the arena. 
 
 
 “ I CAN STILL GIVE YOU THE FLAMETHROWER, IN CASE YOU NEED IT! ” 
 
 
 “ Yes ” 
 
 
 “ WHAT? ” 
 
 
 “ YEEEESSS! ” 
 
 
 “ NOW, THAT ’ S THE SPIRIT! ” 
 
 
 He saw the flamethrower he had declined earlier being thrown in the sand only 20 feet away from him, but also in close proximity to the intrusion of cockroaches that was viciously scanning the ground for any traces of him. 
 
 
 “ THERE YOU GO, MR. THORNBURRY! AND NEXT TIME, REMEMBER TO LISTEN TO VITAL THINGS YOU ’ RE BEING TOLD! ” 
 
 
 But Paul Thornburry had better things to do than to keep listening to what the old man had to say. He sprinted towards the flamethrower, but the cockroaches must have felt the vibration in the ground and headed straight for him. As soon as he got his hands on the weapon, a shadow fell on his silhouette. It was the cockroaches who combined their tiny bodies into a 10 feet tall column of creepy-crawlies ascending towards him. Paul Thornbury pointed the flamethrower towards the cockroaches and pulled the trigger…
