One Step Beyond

My girlfriend's mother hit the daily number twice per month. The dear lady depended on her winnings for her everyday expenses. She believed everyone could do this.
In my youth a parapsychology lab proved I had partial control over which number came up in a dice toss. Unfortunately, in Las Vegas, this ability worked out to boxcars and snake eyes. Very upsetting to my fellow players, I left quietly.
My mother-in-law stopped reading tea leaves after they predicted the death of a young woman.
Our departed friends visit our homeless shelter manager regularly. They tell us about the afterlife. There's no need for food or sex in heaven. To communicate with us they need special passes from God. They are big on revenge giving me great plots for my fiction writing.
Our friends in hell never visit or call. They have a devil of a time.