Relegation Fight
© 2026 by Walter Reimer
Story idea by  EOCostello

Thumbnail art by  Major Matt Mason



The afterlife had been going so well up to this point. Stan had closed his eyes for the last time, only to wake up wearing a white suit in what appeared to be a very swanky hotel room. The television in the room showed only one program, titled The Afterlife: It’s More Sort of an Après-Vie.

Watching the program while eating some of his favorite foods, Stan learned a few things. Namely that reincarnation was real, and he would have to ascend through various animals to reach Heaven. A prominent lawyer and former state Senator when he had been alive, Stan was certain that, as a human being, he was close to the top.

He looked up at a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The door opened and the room brightened slightly as a slim, dapper man in a white suit entered. There was a softly glowing golden nimbus circling his head. “Stanley Irwin?”

“Yes, that’s me. And you are - ?”

The angel smiled. “You may call me John.” A file folder appeared in his hands and he flipped it open. “This is sort of a waiting room, a vestibule or antechamber, until we get you sorted out.” Stan nodded. “I’m glad you understand. Have you watched the video?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Excellent. You do understand that your previous lives will determine your next existence.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good,” and the angel told him.

Stan was so flabbergasted that he slumped into a sitting position on the polished marble floor. The angel standing a short distance from him smiled tolerantly. He’d obviously seen reactions like this before, so with utterly divine patience he waited for Stan to get over his shock.

“I’m,” and Stan paused and gulped, finally finding his voice. “I’m being relegated?”

“Yes.” The angel reached up and pulled down a huge chart out of seemingly empty air. The chart was covered in small print. "You have to think of it like a pyramid, sir," John said. “Here, at the top, are foxes - "

"FOXES!?"

"Yes, foxes."

"Wh-WHY!?"

"Look at the perfection of the design. The exquisite balance. The coloration. The noises they make."

Stan squinted at the chart as he got to his feet. "Where are people!?"

"Sixth in the table, with the other primates. Except for lemurs, they're at Number Four. Cats, of course, are ranked second."

"So . . . so where do I end up?" Stan asked.

The angel consulted his chart and shook his head. “Oh dear. Now, sir, you must promise not to make a scene. It's so undignified."

"Am I going to be . . . a pig?"

“No.”

"Bird?"

A pause. “No.”

"Lizard?"

"I'm afraid, sir, you are being quite optimistic."

"Well . . . w-w-what am I going to be?" Sam watched in horror as the angel's laser pointer, the little red dot coming from nowhere, moved further and further down the pyramid. “That!?”

"Yes. Planaria. You'll be a flatworm."

" . . . "

"But look on the bright side."

"Bright side!?"

"Yes. Planarians can be split in half and regenerate. You'll always have someone to talk to."

“Forever?!”

“Oh no. It's not unknown for relegated souls to make their way back to the top, but it does take a while. Why, only this year, we've had the first lads from the late Roman Republic make their way back. So there is hope."

"May I ask a question?"

"Certainly."

"Where are Hitler and Stalin?"

"You would be amazed how often we hear that question asked."

So - ?”

"Ever heard of Ebola?" The angel’s, well, angelic smile barely wavered. "It'll be a long time before they get anywhere near multicellular organisms. The Emperor Caligula, for example, is still at jellyfish, though we're rather proud he's made it that far." The chart vanished and John closed the folder. “If I’ve answered all your questions, it’s time for you to go.”

“Go? Wait!” Stan thought frantically. "Why are foxes the top division in creation?!"

"They've got fluffy tails, no?"

"By that criterion, skunks would be higher in the table!"

John thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “One really can’t question the Management, Stan. It is what it is. So back you go, and try to do better, okay? And I mean sincerely better; it’ll make things go faster.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Stan said numbly.

“That’s the spirit. Go get 'em, tiger - er, I am speaking non-metaphorically of course."

John gave Stan a cheerful wave and stepped out of the room, which promptly vanished.



End?