Robert: Magnificent!

  Dylan: Who’s gonna give her the blessing?

  Robert: Want to play Wrath, Plague, Scripture?

  Dylan: Sure. Here we go. Wrath, Plague, Scripture, judge!

  They play a slightly different ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’. With their hands, on Wrath, they make a claw shape, then their fingers droop for Plague, and finally, Scripture is just, Paper. Dylan settles on Plague, winning the game. He grins.

  Dylan: Plague beats Scripture!

  Robert: Yeah, I’ve never quite understood that.

  Dylan: Doesn’t matter, I win! I get to choose how she's blessed.

  Dylan stands, and moves down the bar, close to the Bartender. He slams his elbow on the bar, and roars joyfully in the Bartender’s face.

  Dylan: What’ll you have?!

  Robert yells from behind him.

  Robert: I’ll have a pint!

  Dylan: (to Robert) Yeah, yeah, very funny. (to the Bartender) Seriously, what do you need from me?

  Bartender: Actually, I don’t need anything. I just want someone to talk to. Ask about the things up there.

  Dylan exchanges looks with Robert.

  Robert: Can’t tell you everything, but we can certainly talk.

  Bartender: Thank you! My name’s Blade, by the way.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Dylan chooses now to lie his back on a vacant table, lift a chair with his feet, and hang it upon them..

  Dylan: Oh, that’s just awful. You should be named something else.

  Robert: Yeah, he’s right. I should be fighting for you, but honestly, I can’t make myself do it…

  Blade, the Bartender calls out, afraid she’ll miss out on Dylan’s full attention.

  Blade: So, what do you guys do? Up there?

  Robert: While I can’t confirm we’re from up there, we are both judges, of sorts. We test everyone’s character, and decide whether they’re worthy of our blessing.

  Blade: I’ve been working all my life. I’ve never done any wrong. shouldn’t I be rewarded constantly?

  Robert: ‘Life is the only precious thing that's given to you.’

  Dylan: What’s that from?

  Robert: ‘This Man Can’t Die’, I think. Spaghetti Western.

  Dylan: Of course.

  Blade: That’s it? That’s all I’m expected to get, to be born?

  Dylan: Better than some get. I know, it’s bleak to look at it that way, but it does seem like most everything is up to you. We don’t interfere in much.

  Blade: God, I would’ve hoped that-

  The room burns with a bright, searing light. Dylan reaches an enormous, exaggerated size, and becomes ghastly, and ghoulish, screaming at Blade as if he wishes her dead. Blade shields her face.

  Dylan: DON’T TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN!

  The room, and Dylan, return to normal. Robert appears to have not noticed anything, he just sits there, picking his fingernails. Blade lowers her hands.

  Blade: Gosh, I would’vet hoped that… there was more of a reward for… hardworking people.

  Robert: Yes, there is, within the confines of the material world.

  Blade: Well, that sucks.

  Robert: Yes, it does. I completely agree, but I didn’t do anything about it. This guy did. He let a whole slew of people in that didn’t need it. They caused problems with everyone around them.

  Robert points to Dylan, who spins around on the table slowly, having little regard for whoever has to clean up afterwards. Dylan shouts, offended.

  Dylan: Hey! Don’t tell her about me!

  Robert: (to Dylan) It’s my turn to break the rules. (to Blade) He wanted to pick and choose who he lets up there himself.

  Blade: Hold on, go back a bit, they can cause problems? Up there? What exactly did they do?

  Robert: They invaded some of the other personal universes. That’s supposed to be impossible, but then, so is Dylan letting them in, in the first place. Some people had to be moved down here, even the innocents, just to prevent them from being found by the Trespassers…

  Blade: I want to help you find them.

  Dylan sits up.

  Dylan: What?

  Blade: I want to help you. It sounds like a noble enough cause, right?

  Robert: The Trespassers are no longer mortal. They’re like us. Or something lesser, it’s hard to tell. Dylan must have accidentally given them something special when he let them through. Some of them might have come back here just to hide their abilities.

  Blade: How many are there?

  Dylan: Dozens. At least. They might have let a few more people in, I don’t know.

  Robert laughs scornfully at this.

  Dylan: Go-osh, Dylan.

  Blade: So we’ll find them together, the good and the bad.

  Dylan and Robert exchange looks again. Dylan shrugs, raising his eyebrows.

  Dylan: Sounds like fun. Killing two infidels with one stone.