A Smoothie with a Side of Eternity

Barry’s last conscious thought was that the kale smoothie, despite its exorbitant price, was really quite gritty. Then came the sudden, alarming closure of his esophagus, followed by a surprisingly quick cessation of all biological functions.

He awoke, or rather, simply *was*, in a room that smelled faintly of old coffee and existential dread. Fluorescent lights hummed a tune of impending migraine. A skeletal woman, whose name tag read "Dolores – Afterlife Intake," peered at him over a stack of forms so thick they might have been ancient grimoires. She took a sip from a styrofoam cup, exhaled slowly, and spoke without looking up.

"Name?"

"Barry… uh… Thompson?"

"Cause of death?"

"Choked on a smoothie," he mumbled, feeling the indignity of it.

Dolores scratched something with a quill that seemed to glow with a faint, malevolent light. "Right. Negligent self-infliction. That'll be a Class-B karma adjustment." She finally made eye contact. Her eyes were like tiny, disillusioned galaxies. "Now, for your eternal disposition. We have the Standard Infernal Torment – classic, no-frills, includes complimentary pitchfork. Limbo Lite – a bit more relaxed, but the buffering on the spiritual data streams can be… trying. Then there's Ethereal Drudgery – think endless paperwork, but with forced communal harp lessons. And, of course, our premium 'Eternal Nap' – but that requires pre-registration with a certified spiritual medium, and honestly, we're booked solid until the next Big Bang."

Barry gaped. "No, wait. Heaven? Hell? Pearly gates? Fiery pits?"

Dolores sighed, an ancient sound like rustling dead leaves. "Customer feedback indicated a preference for more 'relatable' options. Plus, the legal team found the old terminology a bit… divisive. So, which will it be? And do try to make it snappy, Mr. Thompson. Your soul is depreciating assets."

Barry, ever the pragmatist, squinted at the fine print. "Limbo Lite… does it at least have decent Wi-Fi?"

Dolores merely raised a bone-white eyebrow. "Sir, you're dead. Expectations should follow suit."

He winced. "Fine. Limbo Lite. But if the buffering is as bad as you say, I’m putting in a complaint."

Dolores finally offered a faint, chilling smile. "Oh, you'll be complaining, Mr. Thompson. You'll be complaining for all eternity."