Sunday May 17th
| 2:33 PM | Tweet! Have opened Twitter account so can broadcast activities, opinions, state of health to entire planet. |
| 2:51 PM | Boldly making public what was once considered private and tiresome. |
| 2:52 PM | Sunday, church — forced to attend by wife. Asinine sermon, ought to have food critic review communion. Ack! Must Jesus taste like cardboard? |
| 2:54 PM | Sermon based on Judges 14-16 story of Samson and Delilah. Estimate IQ of Samson maybe 68 tops. Completely incapable of pattern recognition. |
| 2:55 PM | Typical Biblical character. None too bright but willing to do his part for mythology. |
| 2:55 PM | But Noah! What a guy! Boss gives impossible assignment, he accepts. Exactly how I've risen up the ranks myself. Expect promotion tomorrow. |
| 2:58 PM | Yes, promotion. And about time — best years of life etc. Deserve raise, corner office, Judy. Too bad bowels stopped up with Moira's tongue... |
| 2:58 PM | ...sandwich. Preparing by shellacking shoes, shining suit, collecting two of every animal, metaphorically speaking. Ready for glory! |
| 2:59 PM | Still, nervous, uncertain. Have been overlooked for promotion before in favour of Huberman. Huberman the Überman. CEO's pet. |
| 2:59 PM | Damn Huberman! Damn his manicured nails, his executive hair, his irresistible charm! |
| 3:01 PM | I see Judy looking at him — like a little girl gazing at a firefighter who's just rescued a kitten. Let me rescue your kitten Judy! |
| 3:02 PM | Meanwhile, will watch playoffs. Money riding on outcome. Recliner, cold beer, nuts. Heaven on Earth. |
| 4:11 PM | Good God! Have these guys ever played this sport before? Definitely not digging deep, not giving 110%. Reminded of Samson post-haircut. |
| 4:24 PM | Down $50. Post-game interview, player says, “We just weren't motivated.” What? The man makes 3 million dollars a year, what does it take? |
| 4:43 PM | Moira calling for supper. Must feign sleep. |
| 4:54 PM | Reminder to self: let Trevor out of basement. |
Monday May 18th
| 6:51 AM | Promotion day if wife does not kill with cooking first. Islet of Langerhans acting up after Moira's Turkey a la kahck.Trevor has the ague. |
| 6:53 AM | On subway. Late. Had to buy ague retardant, turkey-bone solvent for throat where one lodged. Badly want promotion, especially secretary. |
| 6:54 AM | All reading papers, books, plugged into iPods, texting, yapping on cell phones (heard 30 people say “I'm on the subway” in perfect unison). |
| 6:56 AM | Sitting next to student, able to improve self by reading textbook over shoulder. |
| 6:57 AM | No one pays attention to surroundings in these modern new times. Ideal time for alien invasion, meteor impact — no one would notice, or care. |
| 7:16 AM | Still stuck on subway. Promotion imminent. Will have to bolt like Bolt. Wait for me sweet Judy! |
| 7:17 AM | (Judy like gentle breeze on beach in summer. Moira like drizzle on bog in Feb.) |
| 7:18 AM | BTW, thinking I've got the advantage in case of Bund vs. Huberman. H. always has to look up TVS6 codes but I've got them memorized. Moron! |
| 7:27 AM | One moment, then I'm off like a Helicobacter pylori which, according to student's textbook, moves faster in relative terms than cheetah. |
| 7:28 AM | Ready, steady..... |
| 7:41 AM | Day not proceeding as planned. Surprised when, sprinting across 5th while texting, struck by bus and subsequently declared dead. |
| 7:42 AM | Twitter working in afterlife (now that's technology!) — will be able to report posthumous events. Currently oscillating between netherworlds. |
| 7:44 AM | Soul left body, travelled through tunnel toward bright light. Choir of angels, glory of God, etc. Standard procedure. |
| 7:47 AM | Met in afterlife by Mother. Dear God! Not Mother! |
| 7:48 AM | Mother whacks shins with cane. “You could at least pretend you're glad to see me, Mr I-don't-care-about-anybody-but-myself,” she says. |
| 7:50 AM | Disoriented. Feeling light-headed, presumably due to ephemeral body and consequent lack of blood pressure or pulse. |
| 7:52 AM | Oh God! Am I dead? Am I really dead? Implications sinking in. ARGH! Now HUBERMAN has the advantage! |
| 1:38 PM | Standing around with Mother on cloud, hugely upset over abrupt change of plans. Wanted promotion to CORNER OFFICE, not to celestial realm. |
| 1:39 PM | Must be mistake. Wanted PROMOTION. Instead I've been fired, and not just from job. Layed off from life. Forced retirement from existence. |
| 1:40 PM | Was I not necessary? |
| 1:40 PM | Just like that I'm dismissed from team. Everything interrupted. No time to clean out desk. Hope flask will not be discovered, plus stack of |
| 1:41 PM | No more recliner, beer, nuts. Will miss final game of series. Doomed to spend all eternity, world without end, wondering who won 2009 cup. |
| 1:42 PM | Mother slaps back of head, ending reverie. “You're here because you did something stupid, right Mr Stupid?” Mother right, for once. |
| 1:44 PM | Being directed by cherubim (“I'm a seraphim, Idiot!”) to different cloud (#9). Cumulonimbus. No silver lining evident. |
| 1:45 PM | According to sign Heaven ten furlongs dead ahead. Restaurants, canoeing, ark of covenant, laundry facilities, river of life, picnic tables. |
| 1:47 PM | Angels singing, swooping, like bats. Also chubby baby angels, some with bows and arrows, like in those paintings... |
| 1:47 PM | ...Lack of archery training, diapers, worrisome. |
| 1:51 PM | Thousands of people on knees, praying — i.e. begging and brown-nosing... |
| 1:51 PM | ...these being the essence of any conversation with omnipotent being who could squash you like a bug with a single thought. |
| 1:53 PM | Better start worshipping, entreating Jesus to let self into Heaven. Luckily, due to nagging wife, personal church-going record excellent.... |
| 1:53 PM | ...Actual belief record less impressive. |
| 1:54 PM | I praise thee, Oh Jesus. Jesus! I'm sorry, all right? About everything. Just don't hurt me. Oh God, please don't hurt me.... |
Tuesday May 19th
| 7:21 AM | Am still dead. Exact location in hereafter unknown. Pressing crowd, supplicants, Mother. Surprised not to find self in hell actually... |
| 7:22 AM | ...although recall yelling as bus struck “I accept Jesus Christ as my personal saviour!” to be on safe side. Pascal's wager etc. |
| 7:23 AM | Ahead large throne with glowing bearded figure. Possibly judgment seat of Christ, if Sunday school lessons accurate. |
| 7:24 AM | Feeling tense. Desire not to be cast into everlasting fire growing stronger as queue shortens. Reminded of standing in line to see Santa. |
| 7:25 AM | Mother cuffs ear. No reason. |
| 7:26 AM | Can this be real? Am I dead? I mean honestly DEAD? DEAD dead? |
| 7:27 AM | A bit of a shocker, since never took religion seriously — assumed minister parroting drivel dreamt up by imbeciles. I mean, come on. |
| 7:27 AM | Now, because of thoughtful nonbelief, may burn for eternity. Bother. |
| 8:31 AM | Grr. Wanted earthly reward, not heavenly variety. Will demand to be sent back! Who's in MY office, MY chair? On whose lap does Judy sit? |
| 8:32 AM | HUBERMAN!!! |
| 8:33 AM | Almost there. Angels, like elves, directing. See others receiving imperishable crowns, trophies. Tempted to climb on lap, ask for secretary. |
| 8:34 AM | 30 minute wait from this point. |
| 8:54 AM | Mother now at feet of Christ. Receiving many-jewelled crown, golden crockpot, matching oven mitts and tea cozy sewn from Mary's veil. |
| 8:55 AM | Much praise for the old bitch. Bloody hell. God apparently not watching activities on Earth as advertised. |
| 9:04 AM | My turn to be judged by ... Christ Almighty! Is that a TRAPDOOR in front of throne?! |
| 9:05 AM | Approaching Christ, looks vaguely like Huberman. |
| 9:06 AM | Bowing at feet of Christ, hopefully can't see me texting. Jesus not only God made flesh — Jesus also God made hair. On toe knuckles. |
| 9:06 AM | Like kneeling at feet of Bilbo. |
| 9:09 AM | Jesus white with brown hair, brown eyes, beard, as in pictures. Shorter in real life. Also clearly male. Feminists 0, televangelists 1. |
| 9:12 AM | Jesus wearing robe, looks like dress to me. In addition to omniscience possible Stephen Fry has more in common with Almighty than suspected. |
| 9:13 AM | (Yes, Stephen Fry gay. I know, I know. Shocking. Have read everything, seen everything he's ever done and never once suspected.) |
| 9:18 AM | Currently receiving lecture. Jesus in pickle. Legally can't send to hell due to last minute “conversion” but would like to smell burning. |
| 9:59 AM | Lecture continues. Jesus mad as wet hen. I don't think He does love everybody. I don't think He even likes them. Humanity one big headache. |
| 10:27 AM | Recess called while case considered. Still incredulous. Seeing not necessarily believing. Seeing also deceiving. Mirage, beer-goggles etc. |
| 10:28 AM | Which is more likely? That I stand at judgement seat of Christ or that I am insane? Will never know for sure. Trapdoor getting hotter. |
| 4:39 PM | Waiting, waiting. Sweet Hereafter obviously administrative nightmare. Did He anticipate BILLIONS of humans when designing this place? |
| 4:40 PM | Or did He make same blunder as when designing Earth? |
Wednesday May 20th
| 7:20 AM | Still at throne of Jesus, still kneeling on trapdoor. |
| 7:21 AM | Fast-forwarding through life on 24,000-inch TV. If bus had not done the job, would now die of humiliation. |
| 7:23 AM | Also gigantic golden scale weighing intentions, motivations, outcomes. Like seesaw with white on one side, black on the other. |
| 7:24 AM | White side of scale no longer visible without aid of telescope. |
| 7:28 AM | Note that black side weighed down with thoughts of Judy, Huberman. Oh my little Bunnykins! Oh my Judy! |
| 7:34 AM | Thoughts projected on screen prove true love, or reasonable facsimile. Just not true love for wife. Possible conflict of interest? |
| 7:36 AM | Ha! Gabriel reminds Jesus of incident long forgotten — Bible camp 1976 — asked Jesus to save self in moment of adolescent piety. |
| 7:36 AM | Jesus rolling eyes, muttering own name. |
| 7:41 AM | Loophole! Jesus's blood washes away sins past, present, AND future. If had known this earlier, would definitely have tried drugs, slept with |
| 7:43 AM | Again the lecture — rehash of Sermon on Mount, scolding for treatment of pyromaniac son, primitive attitudes toward “personal assistants”... |
| 8:20 AM | Asking Jesus if can be sent back to Earth. “There's nothing I'd like better,” He replies. |
| 8:21 AM | However, since body rotting two days in metal drawer, Jesus claims hands are tied. |
| 8:22 AM | “But I thought you could raise the dead,” I counter. |
| 8:22 AM | “Sure, back in the day,” He says, “before autopsies and organ donation. You want to be raised with eyeballs I assume.” |
| 8:22 AM | “Listen,” He says, “your brain, your organs — it's all gone. Either they gave it away, harvested it for study, or it's rotten by now, okay?” |
| 8:23 AM | “Forget it. Move on, Buddy.” |
| 8:33 AM | Jesus renders “to each according to his deeds.” Leave with stern warning, cheap crown, various merit badges. Sew on sleeve as in Scouts? |
| 8:42 AM | Phew! Relieved to have escaped ETERNAL damnation for various petty offenses that God in omniscience knew of before birth. (Harsh but fair?) |
| 8:47 AM | Find self on fluffy cloud with Mother outside pearly gates. Crowd high-fiving. Me thinking of Judy. And Huberman. Death's too good for him. |
| 5:50 PM | Still waiting on cloud with Mother outside pearly gates. |
| 5:51 PM | Note that pearls must be made by mollusc or else fake. Wonder if God created giant molluscs to create giant pearls. Will ask. |
| 5:53 PM | Mother occasionally slapping head, shoving tip of cane in lower back. Bizarrely, inexplicably, full of peace, love, joy. Irritating. |
| 6:12 PM | Approaching St Peter (I assume, as has keys the size of garden spades). Presiding over Book of Life where name hopefully written in CAPS. |
| 6:14 PM | Here's a thought: seem to remember no marriage or giving in marriage in heaven — what about giving of secretaries? Must ask. |
| 6:15 PM | Recalling Judy's cashmere sweaters, ethnic charm — the way she used to say her own name. “I'm Yudy,” she'd say. “Yudy from Yermany.” My Love! |
Thursday May 21st
| 7:37 AM | Still outside pearly gates, still incredulous. Must be joke, nightmare. Asked Mother to pinch self, felt no pain. Left hook to jaw — nothing. |
| 7:37 AM | WANTED poster plastered on exterior walls of heaven. Note that Richard Dawkins in deep doo-doo. |
| 7:38 AM | Likewise Hitchens, Harris, Hirsi Ali, Fry, Laurie, Penn, Teller, Davies, Allen, Attenborough, Blackmore, Branson, DiFranco, Simpson (Lisa).. |
| 7:39 AM | ...Steinem, Sweeney, Thompson, Briain, Chomsky, Dennett, Pinker, Pullman, Foster, Shatner, Björk, Lehrer, Rushdie, Randi, Pratchett.... |
| 7:40 AM | Phil Collins apparently in big trouble for song “Jesus He Knows Me.” |
| 7:41 AM | Also Sussudio — unforgivable. (If unforgivable, is composing Sussudio the sin against the Holy Ghost as in Mark 3:29?) |
| 7:42 AM | Poster on wall 6,000 furlongs square. Heavenly hostess explains heaven a city as in many cartoons/Revelation/Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey. |
| 7:45 AM | City walls composed of 12 layers precious stone. Each layer well over 100 miles high (on Earth only 50 miles to space) so layer-effect lost. |
| 7:45 AM | Calculate that walls of heaven about 780,000 stories high. Just a bit boxy! Name of architect? Avoid! |
| 7:47 AM | Can't stop thinking about Judy, more precious than precious stone. Was so looking forward to stroking hair, kissing lips, introducing self. |
| 8:25 PM | Conversing with various people/angels/burning bushes/talking donkeys as in Numbers 22:30. Seem to be a lot of Christians around here. |
Friday May 22nd
| 8:15 AM | Moving ever closer to pearly gates. Seems intuitively obvious that giant pearl would make worst gate possible. Just try attaching hinges! |
| 10:34 AM | Finally at gates of heaven! As suspected, giant pearls impractical. On a winch. St Peter hunched over desk, checking Book of Life for name. |
| 10:36 AM | For Pete's sake! Could the man flip pages any more slowly? Must he lick index finger every time? |
| 10:56 AM | Ages later my name found in Book of Life, thank God! But...oh, drat! Name spelled wrong. Ho hum, more processing of papers, more red tape. |
| 10:56 AM | St Peter looking haggard, bored, like maybe could deny Christ fourth time. |
| 10:58 AM | Feeling sorry for St Peter. Fisherman turned administrator. Desk cluttered with forms, comically oversized keys, bait. |
| 12:12 PM | Error in Book of Life corrected. Able to enter heaven freely? No, more paperwork which, being a former manager, I rather enjoy. |
| 12:13 PM | Given citizenship and immigration application. To be given refugee status — as in Psalm 46:1 “God is my refuge.” Therefore, by extension... |
| 12:16 PM | Must fill in date of birth, smoking/nonsmoking, religious affiliation (only one box to check off ), sex (again, one box — NO)... |
| 12:17 PM | ...SIN number. NOT Social Insurance Number — actual sin, i.e., quantity of sin in before-life... |
| 12:17 PM | ...height of new spiritual body (same as former carnal body), weight (zero). |
| 2:50 PM | All forms finally filled out. Given Bible, map, pamphlet (“It's YOUR Heaven!!!”) in handy carrying case. |
| 2:51 PM | Attempting to ditch Mother, but hanging on to sleeve, cannot be shaken or peeled off. |
| 2:53 PM | More waiting. Angels suggest activities to relieve boredom, all of which involve worshipping Jesus — does not sound promising but will try... |
| 3:00 PM | I worship thee, Oh Jesus, I praise thee, Oh Jesus, Gentle Jesus meek and mild, Our Father who art here, actually, and so forth and so on... |
| 3:01 PM | Worship of Jesus not proving to be boredom buster so studying map of heaven instead. |
| 3:02 PM | River of Waters of Life (H2O?), Tree of Life that beareth 12 types of fruit (due to miracle of grafting, presumably), mansions with names — |
| 3:02 PM | — including mine! A bit on the smallish side but can't be picky. Gosh! Will be living across street from Mother Theresa! |
| 3:03 PM | Will also be living across the street from Mother. Jesus Christ. “What? No, no I wasn't talking to you...” |
Saturday May 23rd
| 7:04 AM | Being guided through pearly gates by huffy, sour-faced Angel (perhaps did not expect to be glorified doorman when created)... |
| 7:05 AM | ...past signs with silhouettes of ne'er-do-wells with red slashes through them. No whoremongers, sorcerers, idolators, as in Rev.21:8. |
| 7:07 AM | Finally in heaven! Wow! Very impressive, sparkling clean, if a bit sticky due to land flowing with milk and honey. |
| 7:10 AM | Standing at bustling intersection of streets of gold. Streets lined with crosses instead of lampposts, Jesus-fish on manhole covers... |
| 7:10 AM | ...traffic lights of emerald, ruby, amber. Opals embedded in road as lane dividers. Not in Kansas anymore, Toto. |
| 7:11 AM | Double decker buses of garnet, wheels of onyx, pearl headlights. Exhaust smells pine fresh, buses silent. Hard not to get run over again. |
| 7:13 AM | Permanent rainbow overhead. Lots of billboards — slogans like “God is Love” and “We Told You So”. |
| 7:25 AM | Massive golden buildings studded with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls, endangered-animal parts. Classy. |
| 7:29 AM | A lot of neon, colourful fountains, palm trees. Like Vegas, without the casinos. Instead churches galore. A religious person's paradise. |
| 7:34 AM | Signs on church lawns say things like, “Worship Service — Ongoing, Eternal” and “Are YOU saved? Don't be an idiot! You're here, aren't you?” |
| 8:24 AM | Many citizens wearing robes, shoes, ball caps with IHS printed on them. Maybe brand name. Short for what? I hate sin? I heart salvation? |
| 8:25 AM | Also lots of people with VFD on their robes and a tattoo of an eye on one ankle. Not a clue. |
| 8:38 AM | Angels a bit of a nuisance, flying around all over the place. Loud! All those flapping wings, all that infernal singing. Preening, roosting. |
| 8:40 AM | Chart by side of road — angels in silhouette, labelled. Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels. |
| 8:40 AM | Can tell apart by structure. Eg. Angel dive-bombing me (too close to nest?) — Seraphim. Obvious by shape of spoiler, horizontal stabilizers. |
| 11:14 AM | Finally managed to ditch Mother by darting into Heman's Harp Shop. |
| 11:14 AM | “Hi, you look new,” says guy in sackcloth, ashes. “I'm Heman — maybe you know me from Psalm 88?” |
| 11:15 AM | “Afraid not,” I reply. “Oh, come on, I wrote it,” Heman says. “Listen to this...” |
| 11:15 AM | “‘I am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up; while I suffer thy terrors I am distracted.’ Ring any bells?” |
| 11:16 AM | “Sorry,” I say. Heman sighs. “They never remember the little guys of the Bible do they? It's all Jesus this and Jesus that...” |
| 11:17 AM | “...What about Chuza?” asks Heman. “Hmm? Ever heard of Chuza?” |
| 11:17 AM | “Sorry,” I say, backing away. “What about Jeduthun? Abihu? Bezalel?” “Nope,” I reply, tripping on a sign that says “Psale on psalteries!” |
| 11:18 AM | “It's always the way,” says Heman. “Gad, Huldah, Jochebed, Me — we're all forgotten. It's just like I said in my Psalm — Psalm 88 —” |
| 11:18 AM | “‘Like the slain that lie in the grave, whom thou rememberest no more, thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps — ’ ” |
| 11:19 AM | I interrupt. “There's no such word.” “What?” says Heman, clearly annoyed. “There's no such word as ‘deeps’.” |
| 11:19 AM | “Hey buddy,” replies Heman, “do you know what ‘infallible’ means?” |
| 11:28 AM | After boring argument, and being offered lessons on the cymbals (“They're my specialty — hey, it's not as easy as it looks you know”)... |
| 11:28 AM | ...I escape Heman's clutches. Study map — note that mansion across town. Thousands of furlongs across town. |
| 11:32 AM | Find bus stop, sit on pew. Will wait for God knows how long. Note carillon playing old hymn: “Fade, Fade, Each Earthly Joy”. Oh my Judy! |
Sunday May 24th
| 7:18 AM | Bus pulls up to stop, gospel music blaring like ice cream vendor's. |
| 7:19 AM | Door opens, driver says, “Hi there, I'm Jehu the son of Nimshi. You might know me from 2nd Kings?” |
| 7:19 AM | “I don't think so,” I reply. “A shame,” replies Jehu, “it's some of God's best material. INSPIRED. Well, it's all inspired really — ” |
| 7:20 AM | “Anyway, welcome aboard!” says Jehu. I sit, then note plaque at front of bus. 2nd Kings 9:20... |
| 7:20 AM | “‘And the driving is like the driving of Jehu, the son of Nimshi; for he driveth furiously.’ ” |
| 7:21 AM | Bus takes off like rocket, swerves crazily as if being driven by lunatic, at which point I notice a bloody head in a bucket by Jehu's feet. |
| 7:22 AM | “Oh, it's just a reminder of the good old days — you know — Biblical times,” he replies with a dreamy look when I ask him what the hell's that. |
| 7:22 AM | “The slaying, the smiting — ” says Jehu, in a sort of reverie. “It was more than just a job, you know?” |
| 7:25 AM | “There were SEVENTY heads in buckets that day, my friend,” says Jehu, “and by the way, I'M the one who trampled Jezebel to death...” |
| 7:26 AM | “...AND I ate a full meal afterwards.” Jehu sighs. “Wasn't I something else?” |
| 7:27 AM | I ask to get the hell off the bus, but Jehu says, “Relax, this is Heaven. Nothing bad can ever happen again. It's completely danger free.” |
| 7:27 AM | “All those virtues,” says Jehu, “ — courage, fortitude, resilience, restraint, caution, prudence, faith, foresight, moderation, wisdom — ” |
| 7:28 AM | “Well, you can forget 'em. You don't need 'em here. Isn't that great?” says Jehu, yanking the steering wheel violently to one side. |
| 7:30 AM | I move farther back and consider upcoming journey of many “Earth” days. Why rush? Could take a million years, would still have all eternity. |
Monday May 25th
| 8:47 AM | Still on bus. Gospel radio station blaring incessantly. Program hosted by The Mourning Show crew of Pope Hilarius, Enoch, and The Coach. |
| 8:48 AM | Enoch prophesies news and weather, other two engage in friendly banter. Also interviews — St John of the Cross, Habakkuk, Red Buttons... |
| 8:49 AM | Other segments include Ask A Vet with St Francis, D.I.Y. with Noah, and Bible Interpretation with Jesus. (“No, no! What I MEANT was...”) |
| 8:50 AM | Also various celebrity saints host Thought for the Day. Today's thought by revered church father Origen. His topic... |
| 8:51 AM | ...“Why cutting off my testicles was the best thing I ever did”. Followed by testy debate with Abelard. |
| 8:52 AM | Mary, mother of God, does popular segment on household concerns.... |
| 8:53 AM | ...“Okay,” says Mary, “A lot of people have written into the show asking me how to get blood out of clothing...” |
| 8:59 AM | Playing old hymns like “What a Friend We Have in Jesus!” plus new hymns like “Jesus Mowed The Lawn 'Round The Mansion Of My Heart.” |
| 10:41 AM | Making attempt to meet fellow passengers. “Hi, I'm Morrie,” I say to guy in robe and sandals. “I'm Elijah,” he replies... |
| 10:42 AM | ...“Elijah the Tishbite. Now you ask, ‘What's a tish bite?’” |
| 10:44 AM | “What?” I ask. Elijah responds by elbowing me playfully in the ribs. |
| 10:44 AM | “Don't you get it?” he replies. “What's a tish bite? It's a joke, but if I'm any kind of prophet I'm predicting you're not going to laugh.” |
| 10:45 AM | I move to another seat. |
| 2:26 PM | Surrounded by smiling guys in suits with comb-overs. All have Bibles and fierce desire to share the good news of Christ's gruesome death. |
| 2:26 PM | Also a lot of women with big blond hair, knee-length pastel skirts, white blouses, blazers with shoulder pads. |
| 2:27 PM | Looks like the entire cast of The PTL Club, circa 1986, which I know because wife Moira watched faithfully, until Bakker sex scandal... |
| 2:28 PM | ...then switched to Jimmy Swaggert show until sex scandal... |
| 2:29 PM | ... then Peter Popoff until fraud scandal. Stopped watching just when show getting interesting. |
| 6:06 PM | Manner of death hot topic. Heart attacks and cancer boringly common. Story of bull goring, ambulance crash, tongue-piercing gone septic... |
| 6:06 PM | ...frog in throat (actual frog), death on examination table while being probed by alien. |
| 6:07 PM | 3 people run over by buses! Real menace those things, as in Billy Connolly Woman on Bus routine. File class action lawsuit from hereafter? |
| 6:20 PM | Time to reflect. Feel like on holiday at garish theme park. Thus strange not sharing with family. Missing wife, son? No. Missing Judy! |
| 6:21 PM | And still loathing Huberman with the white hot intensity of a billion suns. |
| 6:22 PM | And speaking of suns, there isn't one. Not in heaven. No night since illuminated by glory of God 24/7 as in Revelation 21:23... |
| 6:23 PM | ...so tough to get a little shut-eye. (Note to self — buy window coverings.) |
| 6:33 PM | Just realized no need to sleep or eat. So deal is you can satisfy any bodily urge in heaven, but you don't have any bodily urges to satisfy. |
| 6:33 PM | Must consider full, terrifying implications. |
Tuesday May 26th
| 8:30 AM | Still on bus. Slept, ate egg salad sandwich, even though totally unnecessary. Deeply confused upon awakening. Thought I was in hell. |
| 8:48 AM | Radio station still playing oldies like “Are You Washed In The Blood?” plus new country songs like “Washed, Rinsed, and Tumble Dried”. |
| 8:49 AM | “Washed, rinsed, and tumble dried
Jesus Christ fer me He died
My life stank like a toilet bowl
His type A plus cleansed up my soul!
Yeeha!” |
| 9:00 AM | Looking wistfully out window. Landscape flat, repetitive, like Looney Tunes background: mansion, park, church, mansion, park, church, mansion |
| 9:01 AM | Jesus said, “I go to prepare a place for you.” Unfinished mansions all over the place. Typical builder... |
| 9:01 AM | ...never finishes one project before starting another. |
| 1:45 PM | Passing large mansion with wrecking ball, gem rubble, gold dust everywhere. Sign says, “Former Future Mansion of Michael Shermer.” Ah. |
| 7:51 PM | Passing through New Jerusalem in centre of heaven. Billboard says, “Hey, check it out! It's our Best Jerusalem Ever!” Reading pamphlet... |
| 7:52 PM | We've heard your comments and suggestions about the old, Earthly Jerusalem... |
| 7:53 PM | ‘Too many suicide bombers and fried foods — not enough rides,’ YOU said. Well...get this! It's TNJ!!! The NEW Jerusalem!!! |
| 7:53 PM | TNJ has it all! |
| 7:53 PM | Ride the Ark of the Covenant down a water slide! Roll away the stone and win a prize! Part the Red Sea just like Moses/Universal Studios! |
| 7:54 PM | Visit TNJ's Western (climbing) Wall... |
| 7:55 PM | ...or have a whale of a time like Jonah and spend three days and nights mucking about in the digestive fluids of a fish. It's funtastic! |
| 7:55 PM | Worship at TNJ's Church of the Holy Sepulchre — now even more holy, with even more sepulchres! Fellowship at the 2nd Temple Bar and Grill... |
| 7:56 PM | ... with absolutely NO money changers — our personal guarantee! And be sure to try our new Head of John the Baptist Platter... |
| 7:56 PM | A REAL HEAD (in season) on a crunchy bed of lettuce! It's morbid! It's hilarious! (With your choice of appetizer, 'cause you'll need one!) |
| 7:57 PM | Need even bigger thrills? Then try the Drop Tower to Hell... |
| 7:57 PM | ...where riders plunge a trillion miles through space into the everlasting fires of Hell (wave to Grandma!) and back again! |
| 7:58 PM | Visit Golgotha and get crucified, just like our Lord and Saviour! Wear a crown of thorns, suck a sponge full of vinegar! ... |
| 7:59 PM | ...(Do you want to suck FASTER? Should we pound those nails HARDER?)!!! |
| 8:00 PM | See Biblical re-enactments! Watch Noah's hilarious antics as he tries to catch two of every insect! |
| 8:00 PM | See Christ heal a leper, even watch Peter cut off his kinsman's ear! |
| 8:02 PM | Too tame? Then watch Jael drive a spike through a man's head! See Judith cut one right off! See a man dice his concubine into 12 pieces... |
| 8:02 PM | ...and then mail the bits around Israel! See David collect 200 foreskins! Ouch!!! That's gotta hurt!!! |
| 8:02 PM | You want more? Then watch God slaughter all the first born males, smite 14,000 whining Israelites, and drown the entire Earth! |
| 8:03 PM | It's laughs for the whole family! |
| 8:03 PM | Visit our souvenir shop! Get a TNJ snow globe, a Goliath's head medicine ball, and a trampoline sewn exclusively from enemy foreskins! |
| 8:04 PM | You'll LOVE TNJ! Our Bible-based sites and activities reek of agape and family values! |
| 8:04 PM | Nobody doesn't like TNJ! Why? Because in heaven — they can't not love it! |
Wednesday May 27th
| 9:19 AM | Still on bus. Tiring of fellow passengers. Self-congratulatory, smug — like punter who, by sheer luck, picks (or was born into) winning team. |
| 9:58 AM | Perusing pamphlets in order to distract self from thoughts of nemesis — the person who has, essentially, stolen my life. (HUBERMAN!) |
| 10:01 AM | Reading description of MY mansion — my eternal home in fundamentalist Christian heaven. |
| 10:02 AM | (“Home” as in mental asylum? Evidence highly suggestive.) |
| 10:03 AM | Picture-perfect two story, mother-of-pearl siding. Convenient to throne of God, river of life, shopping. Quiet neighbourhood. |
| 10:03 AM | Huge 50 x 120 foot lot, fenced, mature trees and bushes (fig, olive, juniper, myrtle), perennials (lilies of field, burning bush). |
| 10:03 AM | A unicorn owner's dream! |
| 10:05 AM | Dramatic two-story vestibule, gothic arches, cathedral ceilings. Easy access to public transit. Urban executive charm. Fully furnished. |
| 10:05 AM | (Want to change your furnishings? We pick up and deliver in the manner approved of by God Himself. Call Mysterious Ways Moving today!) |
| 10:07 AM | Elegant master bedroom with 3-piece ensuite. Golden soaker tub, stained glass shower stall, platinum toilet, bidet cut from single diamond. |
| 10:08 AM | All new appliances as in Revelation 21:5 — “Behold I make all things new.” |
| 10:09 AM | Impeccably maintained, immaculately conceived. Spotless, washed in blood of Jesus. |
| 10:10 AM | Jade den + amethyst bonus room above garage. Gleaming solid gold floors throughout. |
| 10:10 AM | Oversized windows allow glory of God to illuminate eat-in kitchen. |
| 10:11 AM | Malachite fireplace in great room. Onyx deck with sapphire pool, quartz hot tub, solid brass barbeque. Can upgrade. Endless possibilities. |
| 2:02 PM | Ha! Guessing Huberman doesn't have alabaster doorknobs, gold-leafed eavestroughs, and a solid magnetite computer with infinite RAM! |
| 2:04 PM | Small consolation. Want Judy, not topaz toaster oven. Damn Huberman to hell! |
| 2:06 PM | Say, I wonder if Huberman IS going to hell!? Happy thought! Must ask St Peter to check for Huberman's name in Book of Life ASAP! |
Thursday May 28th
| 9:08 AM | Finally off the looney bus and at new eternal home. “Mansion” a slight overstatement... |
| 9:09 AM | ...more like single family detached in gigantic gated community — but NOT complaining. Heaven forbid. |
| 9:10 AM | Basket from Welcome Wagon in vestibule... |
| 9:10 AM | ...Milk, honey (unnecessary as flows past house) bottled water which turns into wine, manna, “miracle” loaves and fishes for entertaining. |
| 9:12 AM | Also invitation to “Marriage Supper of the Lamb.” No date given. Detect problem with eternity, lack of day/night cycle — how to tell time? |
| 9:15 AM | Answer found in pamphlet: “YOU don't tell TIME — TIME tells YOU!” Apparently citizens of heaven just know when It's Time and are ready. |
| 9:16 AM | How? Just a bit spooky. Do not remember receiving implant in head. |
| 10:18 AM | Inspecting house. Den has TV with a trillion channels. All reruns: Touched By An Angel, Teletubbies, 700 Club. No CSI, House etc. Unholy. |
| 10:30 AM | Cannot “watch a little TV” because TV size of entire wall. Tiny Po 15 feet tall. Tinky Winky terrifying. Am channel surfing on tsunami. |
| 10:35 AM | Found basket of blank Thank You cards in kitchen (on rare earth kitchen counter with cultured pearl inlay). All pre-addressed... |
| 10:36 AM | ...from me to Jesus. Just need to sign, add personal touch. Should probably whip one off now, then post. What to write? |
| 10:37 AM | “Dear Jesus: Thanks for super house, dying for sins, etc. BTW, any chance of Special Someone arriving soon? Your Hostage (KIDDING!), Morrie” |
| 1:03 PM | Cannot understand why toilet not plumbed in. Wish to call plumber. Where is phone? |
| 1:04 PM | Found solid peridot phone on lapis lazuli table. Looking up area code for heaven. “Dial π.” (!!!) |
| 1:05 PM | Ah, one button on phone is π — dials infinite series in seconds. Real time-saver. |
| 1:06 PM | Call Plumb Bob, ask him to come in timely fashion. Says cannot be timely, since no time. |
| 1:06 PM | On Earth used to say something “could take forever,” but nothing does. However, Plumb Bob could take forever, literally. Use neighbour's WC? |
| 1:43 PM | Aha! I remember to put in phone call to St Peter. “Listen, Pete, I need you to check the Book of Life for a name.” |
| 1:44 PM | “I'm a busy man, Bund,” says Peter. I hear paper shuffling, rubber stamping, cock crowing 3 times. (“Stupid clock,” Peter spits into phone.) |
| 1:44 PM | Also hear female voice. “Come, Peter!” she says, seductively. “Come on, Honeybun, please?” Peter replies impatiently. “Not now, Gomer!” |
| 1:44 PM | “Gomer? Who's Gomer?” I ask. “Nobody you need to mention to anyone else,” says Peter, nervously. “Especially not to Hosea, right?” |
| 1:45 PM | “Why shouldn't I mention Gomer?” I ask innocently, but slightly menacingly, in a bank-manager-smelling-blood-in-the-water sort of way . |
| 1:45 PM | “All right!” Peter shouts. “I don't like it, Bund — it's not standard procedure but, just this once. What name?” |
| 1:46 PM | “Huberman,” I hiss into the mouthpiece. |
| 1:46 PM | “Huberman?” asks Peter, incredulous. “You can't be serious. You mean THE Huberman? With the great hair and the charisma and...” |
| 1:46 PM | “Yes, damn it, THAT Huberman!” |
| 1:47 PM | “Well of course he's in the book!” cries Peter. “You're talking about HUBERMAN for heaven's sake! Huberman the Überman we call him — ” |
| 1:47 PM | “Could you just LOOK?” I interject. |
| 1:48 PM | All right, fine — hmm — Huang, Huang, Huang, Huang, Huang, Huang, Huang, Huang, Huang, Hubble, Huber, Hubert — well I'll be damned — NO Huberman!” |
| 1:49 PM | “Actually — HE'LL be damned!” I yell throwing the receiver down. Yes! Huberman's going to hell! Hallelujah! Praise Jesus! God is VERY good! |
| 1:50 PM | Wait! What about my Judy? Call Peter back, beg for info. “No can do,” says Peter. “Gomer or no Gomer, one name only.” Slams down the phone. |
| 1:50 PM | Disappointed — wanted definite answer — relying on eternal vengeance fantasy re: Huberman AND eternal honeymoon fantasy re: Judy. |
| 1:51 PM | Still, how could God NOT allow His most beautiful creature into heaven? Just hope God doesn't try to set Judy up with Jesus. Humph. |
| 3:52 PM | Someone outside front door. I imagine for a moment that it might be Judy. Find myself humming “Heaven must be missing an angel...” |
| 3:53 PM | Letter delivered by Post-angel Pat to mail box (solid ammolite)... |
| 3:53 PM | ...Epistle from Paul. Wages of sin, justification by faith, gift of tongues, plus party invitation welcoming newbies. Potluck. |
Friday May 29th
| 9:28 AM | Time for Welcome Party. In park beside river of life that proceedeth out of throne of God. Will bring Wonder Bread and fish. BYOB (Bible). |
| 9:39 AM | Walking by many mansions — even jewel-encrusted doghouse (Lassie). Cell phone keeps working without need to be recharged. Must be in heaven. |
| 9:40 AM | Also eternal and unlimited browse and text. |
| 9:41 AM | But — (!!!) if Moira doesn't pay bill, cell phone will be cut off in only about 10 Earth days. Will make most of it while still operational. |
| 9:54 AM | Found golden postbox, sent Thank You card to Jesus. Decorated with Christian imagery: stickers of lambs, rainbows, eggs, gory Jesus heads. |
| 9:55 AM | Three huge thrones in distance with river gushing out. Also noisy crowd and banners reading “Welcome to the Kingdom!” and “Go Believers!” |
| 11:00 AM | Greeted at gates of Welcome to Heaven party by Abraham, Sarah, Noah, Maude Flanders. |
| 11:01 AM | Maude Flanders fictional, yes, but undoubtedly just as alive as Abraham, Sarah, Noah ever were. |
| 11:59 AM | Wow. Huge spread — lots of biblical foods — manna, figs, goat, spelt, potato salad, body and blood of Christ. (Shake and Bake?) |
| 11:59 AM | Also ice cream cake approximately one city block square — special message written in pink icing — “Well done thou good and faithful servant.” |
| 12:00 PM | Karen Carpenter, Princess Di, Catherine of Sienna — all gathered around table — bingeing and purging to their heart's content. |
| 12:47 PM | Musicians entertaining. Elvis, Palestrina, psalmist David (now goes by “Dave”), The Pope Gregory Plainchant Project, 101 Strings... |
| 12:47 PM | Ask if they take requests, am told yes, then ask them to play “Imagine”. Much shuffling, furtive glances. Claim they've never heard of it. |
| 12:55 PM | First glimpse of God. Like sun with beard, scowl. Eyes shifty, looking jealous, paranoid. Security checking for golden idols/graven images. |
| 12:56 PM | Apparently God moody S.O.B. as in O.T. Not happy with fornicators, feminists, gays, menstruating women, stem-cell researchers. Could smite. |
| 12:56 PM | Jesus Christ at right hand of God? No! Good Lord! It's Jerry Falwell looking smug and overfed, as always. |
| 12:57 PM | Throne at left hand reserved for Oral Roberts/Billy Graham/Jimmy Swaggert/Jim Bakker/Pat Robertson. (Will have to sit on laps, snuggle). |
| 12:58 PM | Surprised to see four huge beasts with six wings each covered with eyes front and back as in Stephen King horror novel... |
| 12:59 PM | ... each worshipping God as in Revelation chapter 4. No trainers, no cages. Holy, holy, holy s---. |
| 1:00 PM | Backing away slowly from freakish, Yahweh-worshipping, multi-eyed beasts. One like lion, one like eagle, one like calf, one like Mother. |
| 1:22 PM | Bizarre and unexpected mish-mash of people here from prehistoric times to present. When did God start saving people from eternal damnation? |
| 1:22 PM | Did not expect Cro-magnons, Neanderthals, Flintstones. |
| 1:22 PM | Wish Lucy the Australopithecine would shave, put on clothes, as too strongly reminded of Moira's mother. |
| 1:35 PM | Others include many O.T. figures — not technically Christian but Jesus only gleam in God's eye in BC times, so unbelief not their fault. |
| 1:36 PM | Introduced to Adam, Eve, their sons, and all of their sisters whom they had to marry. A lot of grandchildren with 6 toes, third eye, etc. |
| 1:37 PM | Introduced to Samson and Delilah. Samson shaved bald, wearing sunglasses. Delilah wearing ‘I'm with stupid’ t-shirt. |
| 1:52 PM | Also introduced to Gomer and Hosea. “Oh, YOU'RE Gomer!” I say to her. “I heard you over the phone — you were the one who said ‘Come Peter’.” |
| 1:52 PM | When I say “Come Peter” Gomer coughs loudly. “What was that?” asks Hosea. |
| 1:52 PM | “Nothing darling,” says Gomer. “He said that I was the one who said ‘com-puter.’” Gomer scowls. |
| 1:53 PM | Still glaring, Gomer says, “I was wondering why we only have Macs in heaven, that's all,” as she steers oikish Hosea toward the food. |
| 1:57 PM | I follow them to the table where Job stuffing himself. “Hey, Buddy,” says Job, “be a good Samaritan and pass the latkes will you?” |
| 4:48 PM | Ezekiel ladling soup as in Ezekiel chapter 24. “My own recipe!” he declares proudly. “No scum!” |
| 4:48 PM | Solomon staying with flagons, comforting with apples. Lot manning condiments table. “Salt, anyone?” |
| 4:50 PM | LOT? What's HE doing here?! |
| 4:51 PM | What about offering virgin daughters to townsfolk for rape, drunken incest with daughters and other unpleasantness of Genesis 19? |
| 4:52 PM | I ask Lot about scandal. |
| 4:53 PM | “If I had a dime for every time — listen, I panicked, all right? I'd been drinking — you know how I get — can't even recognize my own kids for Chr |
| 4:54 PM | Lot defensive. “Oy! God approved, my friend, that's why he spared us. Well, not my wife — she got turned into a spice. A spice girl — get it?” |
| 4:54 PM | “Besides,” continues Lot, “read 2nd Peter — I'm a good man, just like...” (looks around for good man...has trouble finding one handy...) |
| 4:58 PM | “...just like Saint Vladimir here,” he says, grabbing St Vlad around the neck and play-punching. |
| 4:59 PM | “Ya, me good one,” says St Vladimir in a thick Russian accent. |
| 5:00 PM | “Me Viking warrior — marauding, slaughtering — kill brother for to rule Kiev, get hundreds of concubines, wives, not by ask but by force...” |
| 5:00 PM | “...then decide to be Christian for politics,” Vlad continues, “get baptized, make everybody in Kiev get baptized — and they make me Saint!” |
| 5:01 PM | “Me! Saint!” cries St Vladimir, laughing and slapping his big round belly. “Ha! That good one, ya?” |
| 5:08 PM | Odd bunch here. Everyone from Adam to Zappa. Yes, Frank Zappa in heaven — as punishment for “Jesus Thinks You're a Jerk” etc., etc., etc. |
| 5:14 PM | Jesus working the crowd. “Hey, do you know the one that ends ‘Peter! I can see my house from here!’ No? O.K. I'm on the cross and...” |
| 5:16 PM | Not hungry or thirsty but drink 12-kind-fruit-punch, eat slice bamanna cream pie. |
| 5:17 PM | Satiation of desires brings pleasure. Again: what if no desire? Answer becoming obvious. (Not painfully obvious as no pain.) |
| 5:18 PM | More details of Welcome Party later. Time for egg and spoon race, crow-eating contest, then three-legged race... |
| 5:19 PM | ...looking very good for me, as paired with Terry Fox. (YES!!!) |
Saturday May 30th
| 7:53 AM | Victory in three-legged race! Tough slog, mind — John the Baptist shooting for the eyes with water pistol, Dorcas lobbing pin cushions... |
| 7:53 AM | ...Samson taking out competitors with jawbone of ass, martyrs using own dismembered limbs, heads like bowling balls to trip up competitors. |
| 7:54 AM | Still, victory! Judge Solomon dispenses medals, certificates. But...gasp! Unfairly awarded silver! |
| 7:55 AM | “Ah, sorry — the race is not to the swift,” says Solomon, quoting himself. |
| 7:55 AM | So who takes first? Jesus and Holy Ghost (Sonny and Boo). Feel unfair since Holy Spirit amorphous mass technically without legs at all. |
| 7:56 AM | I complain to Jesus. “Hey, blessed are the MEEK, Buster,” replies the Lord in reprimanding tone, hitting nose with rolled up certificate. |
| 7:57 AM | Won't protest result further — remember Numbers 16 in which Israelites complained that God was smiting them, and God replied by smiting them. |
| 8:54 AM | Will console self with various exhibits. First up, Wilgefortis, the original bearded lady. |
| 8:54 AM | Didn't want to marry, so God gave her beard — and, as a bonus, freak-show employment |
| 9:02 AM | Hmm. Beard or no beard, not sure anyone would have married Wilgefortis. 1st, name. 2nd, drooling. 3rd, could have doubled as fat lady. |
| 9:03 AM | See the Giant! sign says. Expecting Goliath, ho hum. Instead... |
| 9:03 AM | ...André! Wow! Never met actor, i.e. REAL celebrity before. Shook hands — like shaking a bunch of bratwurst. |
| 9:21 AM | Next up, midget's tent. Basically the cast from The Wizard of Oz. Also Judas Iscariot. |
| 9:30 AM | Funny, the Bible never says Judas was a dwarf, needed step-ladder to kiss Christ on cheek. And what about that speech impediment? |
| 9:31 AM | Betrayal Of Christ somewhat less dramatic if carried out by human equivalent of Donald Duck? |
| 9:39 AM | Next martyr's tent — displaying wounds, missing body parts, stigmata, various lines of skin and hair-care products, etc. |
| 10:26 AM | Joan of Arc (still smoking by the way) shooting arrows at St Sebastian, purely for entertainment purposes. |
| 10:27 AM | Attempting to miss but appalling shot. St Sebastian riddled with arrows. “He was like that before I started,” Joan explains. |
| 10:28 AM | “I was,” says Sebastian. “I always wear my arrows, me. ‘Course I take ‘em out before bed... |
| 10:28 AM | ...'cause I hate it when they break off under the skin. The Lord gave me special tongs to get ‘em out but...what a nuisance!” |
| 11:49 AM | Jesus doing party trick, the one where He walks on water. Not impressed as have seen hobbit-sized feet. I say big hairy deal. |
| 11:56 AM | Watching kiddies playing in inflatable Noah's ark... |
| 11:56 AM | ...Noah walks by, says, “Jesus! It would've been a hell of a lot easier if I could've just blown the damn thing up.” |
| 12:37 PM | Also inflatable tower of Babel, inflatable Sodom and Gomorrah Fun House (for the teens)... |
| 12:38 PM | ... and life-sized inflatable Mount Sinai. (Sign: “No crampons please!”) |
| 6:23 PM | Currently lost in corn maze. Not really corn, of course — gold spun to look like corn. Still, seemingly no way out. Metaphor for afterlife. |
Sunday May 31st
| 3:33 PM | Still at Welcome to Heaven party, still fellowshipping with confusing hodgepodge of people... |
| 3:34 PM | ...Pocahontus, Habakkuk, Dudley Moore, Constantine, Nehemiah, Dom DeLuise, St Pelagia of Antioch, my old piano teacher Mrs Kowalski.... |
| 3:37 PM | Stick-on name tags say, “Hello! My name is Polycarp of Smyrna!” or “Hi! I'm the OTHER Mary (Magdalen) ;-) teehee!” or “ME JAVA MAN”. |
| 3:38 PM | No historical or geographical context for any of these people. Taken out of time and place and plopped into the melting pot of eternity. |
| 4:01 PM | Welcome Party seemingly endless. Disoriented, need for Me time. Walking home with major nutcase, St Symeon the Stylite. |
| 4:02 PM | On Earth St Symeon lived in hut, then crevice, then on pillar 50 feet high — for 37 years. |
| 4:02 PM | Now lives in bejewelled mansion precariously perched atop column. “I'd rather have a hut or a crevice, but you learn to make do.” |
| 4:41 PM | Symeon shimmies expertly up column. I wave, he showers me with rubies and emeralds from above. Nice guy. |
| 5:40 PM | Back at eternal house. Feeling strange urge to “go” — realize have not done so in what must be days. Toilet still not plumbed in! Will bail. |
| 5:41 PM | Felt odd, heard clinking noises. Excreting rubies, emeralds. Explains plumbing situation. Perhaps misinterpreted Symeon's goodwill gesture. |
| 5:42 PM | Suddenly I realize... |
| 5:44 PM | ...AHH! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! |
| 5:47 PM | Looked down pants! Discovered — |
| 5:48 PM | NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL! NO SEXUAL ORGANS! |
| 5:49 PM | Imagine that I want to feel profound despair, but no despair in heaven. Only the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart. Grr! |
| 6:06 PM | How to come to terms with discovery of depressingly altered anatomy? No sexual organs, no desires — no Judy. |
| 6:07 PM | Attempting fantasy anyway, solid osmium phone by bed ringing, ringing, ringing — call display indicates Mother. |
| 6:09 PM | “Don't embarrass me by forgetting the ‘Marriage Supper of the Lamb,’” says Mother. |
| 6:09 PM | “And bring a decent wedding gift for once in your life. Nothing cheap, okay, Mr Cheap?” |
| 6:10 PM | “What is this marriage supper?” I ask. “Oh, look at Mr I'm-so-important-I-have-to-know-everything,” she says. |
| 6:10 PM | “You'll find out, all right, Mr Nosey?” |
| 6:11 PM | Hang up. Clearly cannot endure an eternity without sexual organs, with Mother. Decision to end it all surprisingly easy. |
| 6:12 PM | The thing about going to heaven is: you're damned if you do and damned if you don't Thus the following will be my final tweet. |
| 6:13 PM | Climbing to roof of house, will throw self off. Goodbye Judy, good riddance Mother. Goodbye fellow Twitterers. And goodbye cruel ... world. |
Monday June 1st
| 1:34 PM | Am surprised to find myself still trapped in the land of the living dead (heaven) as throwing self off roof had no effect. |
| 1:34 PM | Threw self under several passing buses, swallowed handfuls of diamonds, whacked head repeatedly on marble counter top. Revelation 21:4... |
| 1:35 PM | “And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” |
| 1:36 PM | Impasse. Can't kill self as have spiritual body. Wounds heal instantly, hacked off limbs grow back — have even regrown head. |
| 1:37 PM | Death is TOTAL amputation. |
| 4:05 PM | Have been Resting In Peace after recent suicide attempts. Hanging, stabbing, choking, drowning, strangling, bleeding, jumping, shooting... |
| 4:05 PM | ...overeating, under-eating, poisoning, smoking, burning, beheading, overdose, under-dose, electrocution, scorpions, vipers, lions... |
| 4:06 PM | ...but no luck. Not a scratch on me and still trapped in the sweet hereafter. |
| 5:00 PM | At least bed comfy. 10,000-thread-count, “Ostentatious Opulence Collection.” Sticker on headboard: “Ex Nihilo Furniture and Supply Company.” |
| 5:53 PM | Mother phones. “Oh there you are, Mister Morbid, cutting his own head off in the front yard where all the neighbours can see, I'm your |
| 5:53 PM | mother, how do you think it makes me look when you dismember yourself on the front lawn just like your good-for-nothing Father did when he |
| 5:53 PM | found out I was pregnant with you and then after I backed over him with the car he embarrassed me by leaving me for that nurse just like...” |
| 5:54 PM | Hang up phone. Look out window, see Mother on phone looking back at me, still talking. Jesus help me. |
Tuesday June 2nd
| 9:08 AM | I hear someone outside front door. “Behold I stand at the door and knock,” He says, which is what passes for humour around here. |
| 9:08 AM | I open the door. It's the Lord Jesus. Surprise, surprise |
| 9:09 AM | “So — “ (Jesus examines fingernails) — “you haven't been to the throne to worship me lately. Do you want to tell me why not?” |
| 9:09 AM | Awkward pause. “Well, I can only say thank you so many times. After the first couple of hundred times I don't get much out of it, really.” |
| 9:10 AM | “Oh, I get it,” replies Jesus. “It's all about YOU.” |
| 9:10 AM | “Well — you got my Thank You card, didn't you?” I ask. |
| 9:10 AM | “I didn't like it” He says. |
| 9:11 AM | “Well, Jesus, I'm a bank manager, not a poet. If you needed investment advice or a second mortgage it would be different but....” |
| 9:11 AM | “Well — anyway I liked the stickers.” Pause. “Especially the ones of my head. You don't forget what a crown of thorns feels like, my friend.” |
| 9:11 AM | “No, I guess you wouldn't. Although it has been a couple of thousand years now.” |
| 9:12 AM | “Well, yeah. But that's not really the point, is it.” |
| 9:12 AM | “What is the point, Lord?” |
| 9:13 AM | “The point is, I deserve to be worshipped,” says Jesus. ”I mean, HELLO! I died for your sins, in case you'd forgotten.” |
| 9:13 AM | “Well, not specifically for MY sins,” I point out. “I mean, if I'd never been born, you still would have gotten nailed to that cross.” |
| 9:14 AM | “Ouch!” says Jesus, flinching. “You just said that so casually. Getting nailed to that tree was no Sunday School picnic you know... |
| 9:14 AM | ...Anyway, it IS true I died to save the whole world, which only makes my sacrifice that much more magnificent.” |
| 9:15 AM | “Well, Jesus, a lot of people give their lives for other people,” I point out. “It's not really that unique a feat... |
| 9:15 AM | ...especially if you think your death will save the whole world. Who wouldn't give their lives under those conditions?... |
| 9:15 AM | ...I mean, You died to save billions of people,” I continue, “which on a per capita basis, really isn't that impressive.” |
| 9:16 AM | Jesus sulked. |
| 9:17 AM | “I suppose it's true my blood's spread a little thin.” Jesus looks wounded — I feel like a heel. “Sorry, Jesus.” |
| 9:17 AM | “No, really, it's okay,” says Jesus, looking hurt. “I'm not hurt, all right? I just need a little more gratitude.” |
| 9:18 AM | “It's just that if a human being wants to be worshipped,” I say, “we generally put him in a straightjacket and lock him up, you know?” |
| 9:18 AM | “I realize that. And it's true I'm all man,” says Jesus, flexing His biceps. |
| 9:19 AM | “But I'm also all God, and gods get worshipped. That's how you interact socially with a god. It's completely normal in divine circles.” |
| 9:21 AM | “But why do you need to be worshipped?” I ask. “Why can't you just be happy without relying on other people to make you feel special?” |
| 9:21 AM | “Because I'm a god, and all gods thrive on praise. We're like kids that way. We like to be encouraged and told when we're doing well... |
| 9:23 AM | ...It's pretty much universal, haven't you noticed?” He adds. “We like to see our creatures on their knees, whispering sweet nothings.” |
| 9:24 AM | “It just seems so — medieval, you know?” I point out. “Haven't we moved on from there?” |
| 9:24 AM | “I haven't,” Jesus replies. “I'm timeless and eternal. It worked in 3 B.C. and it still works today... |
| 9:25 AM | ...I just like praise, okay? It feels right, you know? So why don't you bow down before me right now, and say a few ‘Thank you Jesus's.’” |
| 9:25 AM | “How long do I have to keep thanking you for that one sacrifice?” |
| 9:25 AM | “Well — forever, really.” |
| 9:26 AM | “You're going to keep bringing it up for all eternity? I have to be grateful forever?” |
| 9:26 AM | “Well, come on — those nails really hurt you know.” |
| 9:26 AM | I kneel down. “Thank you Jesus. Thank you, thank you.” |
| 9:27 AM | “Yeah, that's right,” says Jesus with a dreamy look on His face. “Keep going......” |
Wednesday June 3rd
| 9:59 AM | “And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.” Revelation 9:6. |
| 10:00 AM | Don't know what to do with self. Spent morning hanging, stabbing, disembowelling self, just in case. No pain, no death, no luck. |
| 11:48 AM | All alone in eternal house, wearing crown, surveying fabulous riches, priceless relics, gothic splendour. |
| 11:48 AM | Oh my Judy! How she would love moonstone microwave, tourmaline toaster, spodumene sponge bag!!! |
| 11:50 AM | Not sure she would love relics as much. True that Joseph's coat of many colours makes an attractive bedspread with matching dust-ruffle... |
| 11:51 AM | ...and Entertainment Centre classy antique, as made of wood reclaimed from holy cradle... |
| 11:52 AM | ...(though stereo refuses to play anything but John Tesh's “Sax All Night” and “Grand Piano Christmas”. Help!) However... |
| 11:52 AM | ...some relics a bit spooky. Do not care for tibia-bone comb, lampshades made from martyr's scalps, placemats woven from St Ruan The Hairy. |
| 11:53 AM | Nor do I care for toothpicks made from — guess what? — nor for spatula/scapula made from St Lawrence (patron St of cooks). |
| 11:55 AM | Sticker on bathroom scale claims it's made from scales that fell from Paul's eyes on road to Damascus. Oh please. |
| 1:47 PM | Currently preparing comfort food. Naturally marshmallows in cocoa arrange themselves into shape of cross. |
| 1:47 PM | Made toast in tourmaline toaster. Had face of Mary, wept butter. |
| 8:55 PM | Half-heartedly watching TV. Disney on Ice, The Flying Nun, Britain's Got Talent with Simon's face blotted out. |
| 8:55 PM | Bored, bored, bored, and only a couple of weeks into eternity. |
Thursday June 4th
| 8:36 AM | Doorbell rings. Amazed to find Mormon Elders — two boys who look like they wouldn't yet have hair on their testicles, if they had testicles. |
| 8:36 AM | “You mean there are Mormons living in heaven?” I ask, incredulous. “Oh we don't live in THIS heaven,” Elder Tim replies. |
| 8:37 AM | “We have our own heaven, where men are Gods. They have their own planets and hundreds of wives and they procreate for all eternity.” |
| 8:40 AM | “Oh good Lord!” I exclaim, falling to my knees voluntarily for a change. “Take me with you! Sweet mother of God, please, take me with you!” |
| 8:41 AM | “No can do,” replies Elder Dwayne. “Unless... |
| 8:41 AM | ...you weren't sealed in a secret Mormon Temple ritual by any chance?” I shake my head forlornly. “Aw. Sorry Buddy.” |
| 8:42 AM | “Well — what are YOU doing here?” I ask. “Oh, you know,” says Elder Dwayne, adjusting his tie. “Old habits die hard. Would you like a tract?” |
| 8:42 AM | “Actually,” whispers Elder Tim, “Mormon heaven's not really all it's cracked up to be. All those women... |
| 8:42 AM | ...well, they're pregnant most of the time. The mood swings, the heartburn, the swollen ankles....They get a little cranky, you know?” |
| 8:43 AM | “And managing a planet isn't exactly easy,” adds Elder Dwayne, “especially a planet full of women who are mad as hell.” |
| 8:43 AM | “You got that right,” adds Elder Tim, shivering. |
| 8:47 AM | “Trust me, you're better off here,” says Dwayne. “That's really why we come here — to get away from all the screaming — the kids, the men...” |
| 8:48 AM | “And from all those bloated women with spit-up stains all down their blouses,” adds Elder Tim, looking haunted. |
| 8:50 AM | “At least with all those other wives around they've got loads of help with the housework,” says Elder Dwayne. |
| 8:51 AM | “Not like a man/god,” says Tim. “I mean — a planet's a pretty big thing to mow.” |
| 9:04 AM | Eventually I slam the door in Elder Tim and Elder Dwayne's faces (still the only tried and true method of getting rid of missionaries). |
| 9:05 AM | Can't shake the belief that Mormon heaven sounds better than this one — will request transfer. |
| 9:06 AM | Phoning God. Get answering machine with perky female voice... |
| 9:06 AM | “You've reached the voice mail of (switch to the voice of God) THE ALMIGHTY.” Back to female voice: “Your call is very important to... |
| 9:07 AM | ...(back to the voice of God) THE ALMIGHTY (back to female voice) so please leave a brief message after the sounding trumpet.” Toot! |
| 9:07 AM | “Yes, hello God, this is Morrie — Morrie Bund. Listen... |
| 9:07 AM | ...I was wondering if — ” “IF you are happy with your message, press one now,” says the perky answering machine voice. |
| 9:08 AM | “If you are not happy with your message, press the number of the beast. Your call will be forwarded. Thank you, and have a nice eternity.” |
| 9:16 AM | Humph. Will ask St Peter about transfer to Mormon heaven. Meanwhile will order Chinese from Huang's Heavenly House of Hoisin... |
| 9:18 AM | ...then watch The Waltons followed by Hymn Time with special guest Tennessee Ernie Ford. In heaven, it just doesn't get any better. |
| 9:18 AM | No wait, it does — there are two surprise guests performing as one act — Hildegaard of Bingen Crosby. God help. Please, God help. |
Friday June 5th
| 9:28 AM | Decide to get out of mansion, have a jog, explore. Avoid using front door as Mother always peering out of open attic window, like sniper. |
| 9:39 AM | I run into St Peter and ask about transfer to Mormon heaven. Peter rolls eyes. |
| 9:40 AM | “Listen,” he says, “if I sent every guy who asked me for a transfer to Mormon heaven, there wouldn't be any men left in THIS heaven, okay?” |
| 9:40 AM | I sigh. “The thing is, Peter, there's just not very much to do here, in this heaven. It's not very, you know...interesting.” |
| 9:41 AM | “Hey, it's EXACTLY like it's described in the Book of Revelation,” says Peter. “The streets of gold, the mansions, the New Jerusalem... |
| 9:41 AM | ...it's all in the Bible, Buddy. Read it and weep. |
| 9:43 AM | Besides, heaven is all about worshipping God,” says Peter defensively. “THAT'S WHY YOU'RE HERE. The Bible is really very clear about it... |
| 9:44 AM | ...so it's not exactly as if you were tricked into this afterlife, is it? |
| 9:44 AM | Honestly!” Peter continues testily, “if you didn't like the sound of it, why did you ask JESUS to save you?” |
| 9:46 AM | “I wasn't thinking,” I reply. “Ah, now we're getting the truth of the matter,” says Peter. “You weren't thinking... |
| 9:46 AM | ...because if you HAD been thinking you would have asked Allah to save you. That way you could've been in heaven with 72 virgins right now.” |
| 9:47 AM | “Really?” I reply, completely awed by the idea and aching with regret. |
| 9:48 AM | “Nah,” says Peter. “That's just what they tell people. It's marketing.... |
| 9:49 AM | Besides, what do you think the women are supposed to do? What kind of heaven would that be for them? You think they get 72 pool boys?” |
| 9:51 AM | “What exactly do the women get?” I ask. |
| 9:51 AM | “Well,” replies St Peter, “it's sort of like Ikea.... |
| 9:51 AM | Anyway, why don't you get out more, make friends. Get to know Mother Theresa, for example — she lives right across the street from you.” |
| 9:52 AM | “Good idea,” I say. “We can talk about holiness, and leprosy. Thanks for the tip.” |
| 9:52 AM | “Oh no,” says Peter. “MT's changed — she swears, smokes, spits... |
| 9:52 AM | ...and spends all day in a bikini in her hot tub getting rubdowns from buff angelic types.” |
| 9:53 AM | “What?! That's disgusting!” I exclaim. “Mother Theresa is supposed to be a paragon of holiness and virtue!” |
| 9:53 AM | “Well, come on, give her a break,” replies Peter. “She didn't have much of a life did she? Listen, that's what heaven's all about — |
| 9:53 AM | 1) worshipping God and 2) being given an eternity of goodies to make up for all the innocent suffering you went through on Earth.” |
| 9:56 AM | “But you can't make up for innocent suffering!” I counter, on behalf of all tortured kittens everywhere. |
| 9:56 AM | “Well what are we supposed to do?” says Peter. “What's your bright idea? “Listen — think of the kingdom of heaven as a government, right? |
| 9:56 AM | ...and think of God as the president. All knowing, all powerful and, frankly, a bit of a screw-up.... |
| 9:57 AM | So you can't really say that innocent suffering isn't ultimately his fault, can you. Now... |
| 9:57 AM | ...when a government screws up, what do they do? How do they usually compensate people for innocent suffering?” |
| 9:57 AM | “They give them money?” |
| 9:57 AM | “Exactly!” replies Peter. “Compensating victims with material wealth is standard procedure. It's our way of saying... |
| 9:58 AM | ...sorry about your miserable life and traumatic death... |
| 9:58 AM | ...we'll make it up to you with a solid magnetite computer and a 100 % martyr-bone dinette set, okay? |
| 9:59 AM | You see the beauty of the system? You throw people a bone (sometimes literally), everybody's happy, and nobody's suing anybody.” |
| 9:59 AM | “Well what about all those people who go to hell?” I ask. “What about their suffering?” |
| 9:59 AM | “Their suffering is, clearly, THEIR fault,” says Peter in a huffy tone. “They were warned and yet they still chose NOT to believe in God.” |
| 10:00 AM | “Oh come on,” I protest. “Is not believing in God really such a big deal?” |
| 10:00 AM | “Hey, Buddy,” says Peter, wagging his finger in a warning sort of way, “how would you like it if somebody didn't believe in you?” |
| 10:00 AM | “But I'm not invisible! If I was invisible, I think I'd understand it!” |
| 10:01 AM | Conversation pointless, like talking to wall. More than one reason why Peter has reputation as a rock. |
| 10:01 AM | No hope of transfer to more desirable heaven. No hope of anything. |
| 10:01 AM | Walking home, head bowed. Damn, forgot to ask about Marriage Supper of the Lamb. |
| 10:02 AM | Will do it tomorrow... |
| 10:02 AM | ...except — no tomorrow. Eternity one endless, sunny day. |
| 10:03 AM | Suddenly remember old life: watching sports on TV, sitting in recliner with cold beer, nuts. Said it was heaven on earth... |
| 10:03 AM | That's what's needed here — more earth in heaven. |
Saturday June 6th
| 8:44 AM | The doorbell rings. Mormons? JWs? Jesus, god forbid? No. It's Mary Kay doing her rounds with Tammy Faye Bakker and Frank Zappa on a chain. |
| 8:44 AM | I slam the door immediately, continue watching Highway to Heaven marathon. |
| 8:50 AM | The bell rings again. Oh no. It IS Him this time. “Hello, Lord.” |
| 8:51 AM | “Hello, Morrie,” says Jesus with a big sigh. “So... |
| 8:51 AM | ...again you've been shirking. You haven't praised me in days and I'm feeling a bit neglected I don't mind telling you.” |
| 8:51 AM | “Yeah, I know,” I reply, scuffing my shoe. “It's just — well, it's like I said to Peter. No offence but it's not very interesting here.” |
| 8:52 AM | “Hey listen, Buddy, you're lucky to be here. It's only by the grace of ME that you're here at all. MY grace, MY sacrifice. Got that?” |
| 8:52 AM | “Yeah, I know but — ” |
| 8:52 AM | “Hey! Just don't forget about MY surrender on the cross, all right? YOU try sucking a sponge of vinegar, see if YOU like it. |
| 8:52 AM | That spear in my side? YOUR fault, not mine. I took the hit, right? I was blameless but because of YOUR sin, Mr Sinful, I got martyred.” |
| 8:54 AM | “You sound like my mother.” |
| 8:55 AM | Jesus glared. |
| 8:55 AM | “It's just — I think I'm lonely,” I say. |
| 8:56 AM | “Lonely?” exclaims Christ. “Christ! How can you be lonely with Mother Theresa living across the street? The woman's a maniac! I mean... |
| 8:56 AM | ...she parties nonstop. Her place is always packed. The throbbing music, the strobe lights, the booze — it's like a discotheque over there.” |
| 8:57 AM | “That's disco-Tek, Lord — hard ‘t’ sound.” |
| 8:57 AM | “Whatever,” says Christ. |
| 8:58 AM | “It's just, I was hoping for — ” I pause meaningfully — “that special someone.” |
| 8:58 AM | “Ah,” says Jesus. “Right. Now I get it.” |
| 8:58 AM | “You do?” I ask, hopefully. |
| 8:59 AM | “Of course I do. Do you think I'm not a mind reader? I AM God, you know, no matter what the Jews say. And the Hindus. And Richard Dawkins. |
| 8:59 AM | Anyway, you've done nothing but obsess about it since you got here and it's really starting to get on my nerves.” |
| 8:59 AM | “Sorry, Jesus,” I say, then ask, “so — is there anything you can do about it?” |
| 9:00 AM | “Yeah, fine, whatever. I'll arrange it. An untimely death and then — whoosh — your sweetheart — your ‘little Bunnykins’ — will be in your arms.” |
| 9:00 AM | “What?! Really?!” This is incredible. I can't believe my ears. “And what about living arrangements? I mean, could I get a room ready?... |
| 9:00 AM | ...Even a...a...bed? Could we, uh, share?” |
| 9:01 AM | “Frankly I don't care what you do as long as you stop moping. Obsessing. You've been a wet blanket ever since you got here.” |
| 9:01 AM | “Oh, Jesus!” I cry, “All that's all going to change. We'll explore heaven, go to TNJ, church picnics — ” |
| 9:01 AM | “Fine, fine, whatever. I don't care. Just so long as you start praising me again.” |
| 9:02 AM | “But, as I've mentioned, Jesus, I find worship extremely bor — ” |
| 9:02 AM | “Hey! Do you want that special someone or not?” |
| 9:02 AM | “Sorry Lord! Oh, and by the way, you know I don't mean my wife, right? I mean from the office — ” |
| 9:03 AM | “I know exactly who you mean, you devil. I know whose hair you want to stroke, whose lips you want to kiss... |
| 9:03 AM | ...I'm like a prophet that way. And I wasn't exactly born yesterday, you know. I can read the signs.” |
| 9:03 AM | “Well — hallelujah!” I cry, meaning it for once. “I praise you, oh Jesus, thank you, oh Jesus!” |
| 9:03 AM | “Oh that's much better!” says Jesus encouragingly. “Hey, I've got an idea... |
| 9:04 AM | ... why don't you do that thing where you raise your hands and get filled with my spirit? Maybe do a bit of that babbling I like so much.” |
| 9:04 AM | “You mean speaking in tongues?” |
| 9:04 AM | “Yeah, that's it. I love that, it's so totally crazy. I never came up with that, you know, it was all your guys' idea.” |
| 9:04 AM | “Well, I've never done it, but...” I fall to my knees and raise my hands. “Bo so foe joe no crow blow ko so roe.” |
| 9:05 AM | “STOP!” cries Jesus. “Get outta here! That's Judoon! Who do you think I am, Dr Who? Now I know you're faking. Let's try again.” |
| 9:05 AM | Sigh. “Oh freddeled gruntbuggly — ” |
| 9:05 AM | “ADAMS!” |
| 9:05 AM | One last time. “Oh — Sniffleheimen Obblanox! Purdingly snik buntsnoo.... |
| 9:06 AM | “Oh yeah, that feels great,” says the Lord. “Keep it up, Sport, keep it up.” |
Sunday June 7th
| 7:01 AM | Completely over the moon about Judy, though sorry about being a teensy bit responsible for her premature death. |
| 7:06 AM | Huberman's probably weeping over her cold dead body right now. Ha! |
| 7:08 AM | Should possibly feel guilty, but point is that I can give Judy so much more here, in paradise, than Huberman could ever give her on Earth. |
| 7:10 AM | After all, heaven jam-packed with precious riches. Moonstone microwave, tourmaline toaster, spodumene sponge bag just the beginning! |
| 7:13 AM | For instance, I can give Judy MILLIONS of new “best friends”, if diamonds are as advertised! Ha! How do you like THEM apples, Huberman!? |
| 8:02 AM | Decide to go for a jog, run into Saint Peter again, remember to ask about “Marriage Supper of the Lamb”. |
| 8:02 AM | “So who's getting married?” I ask, taking a swig of holy water. |
| 8:02 AM | “Silly,” says St Peter. “You are.” |
| 8:03 AM | I choke, water spraying everywhere. “What did you say? You mean, I get to be married?” Suddenly heaven looking a lot more attractive. |
| 8:03 AM | “Of course you do,” replies Peter. “Well that's bloody fantastic!” I say. “I get to marry Judy, right? I mean — who do I marry? Who is she?” |
| 8:04 AM | “She?” asks Peter. “She? SHE? Oh no, no, no. You're not marrying a woman.” |
| 8:04 AM | “What do you mean I'm NOT MARRYING A WOMAN?” |
| 8:04 AM | “You're marrying a lamb,” Peter explains. “You know, THE Lamb — of God — aka Jesus. Didn't you know?” |
| 8:04 AM | I grab my chest and fight for air. “Oh come now,” says Peter. “Every man is naturally a little nervous when he finds out he's a bride... |
| 8:05 AM | ...because he doesn't know what it's going to be like... |
| 8:05 AM | ...will I get pregnant? Will He bring home a disease? Will it hurt? Just the sort of question all brides have.” |
| 8:06 AM | “No, oh God, no!” I say, closing my eyes and collapsing onto the golden sidewalk. It's then I hear sniggering. |
| 8:06 AM | “I really had you going there, didn't I?” says Peter. |
| 8:07 AM | I open my eyes, see Peter smiling smugly. “Sorry, but it gets a little dull around here sometimes.” |
| 8:07 AM | “Tell me about it,” I say. “So — you mean I'm not getting married to a — a man?” I ask, relieved. “I get to marry Judy after all?” |
| 8:07 AM | Peter laughs. “Silly! Of course you're marrying a man. You're marrying the Son of God, just like everybody else. It's standard procedure. |
| 8:08 AM | Doesn't anybody read their Bibles anymore?” asks Peter, exasperated. “It's all there AND in your Welcome to Heaven brochure. |
| 8:08 AM | Second Corinthians 11:2 — |
| 8:08 AM | I am jealous over you with godly jealousy, for I have betrothed you to one husband, that I may present YOU as a chaste virgin to Christ.” |
| 8:08 AM | “But JUDY'S coming to heaven!” I cry. “I want to marry Judy!” |
| 8:09 AM | “Well you and Judy can marry Him together if you like. Anyway, your garter belt's in the closet. Toodles!” |
Monday June 8th
| 8:21 AM | Still feeling nauseous over totally creepy Marriage Supper of the Lamb business. NOT GAY so, naturally, do NOT want to be bride of Jesus. |
| 8:22 AM | Am used to idea of thanking Him FOREVER for that ONE sacrifice and, though obviously vile, eating His body and drinking His blood... |
| 8:23 AM | ...but marrying the guy? Oh come on! Even metaphorically, idea appalling, sleazy. |
| 8:23 AM | Would be far more comfortable with ceremony making Jesus, say, vice president or head coach — NOT husband. Don't want to be the woman! |
| 6:06 PM | Ah! Jesus just phoned about MY SPECIAL SOMEONE! Judy's in heaven already and He's bringing her around tomorrow! |
| 6:07 PM | Must spend rest of day polishing gems, appliances, relics, worshipping the Lord (MUST stay on good side!!!) |
| 6:14 PM | Yesterday had phoned Ex Nihilo Furniture and Supply Company, ordered luxuries for my Judy. |
| 6:15 PM | Ex Nihilo just came around with tiny minivan, pulled out gigantic mirror for ceiling plus king-sized holy-water bed. |
| 6:25 PM | Hope Judy will love creamy satin Shroud of Turin duvet and pillow shams. |
| 6:40 PM | Just realized that tomorrow cell phone will probably be cut off for eternity, if Moira did not pay bill. |
| 6:41 PM | Will likely not be able to Twitter, but will certainly be IN a twitter! |
| 6:42 PM | Really, no time to tweet. Must make everything perfect for my little Bunnykins (as Jesus ALWAYS refers to her — so sweet!) |
Tuesday June 9th
| 5:34 AM | Guessing that these are my final hours in the Twitterverse and that these will be my final Tweets. |
| 5:37 AM | Everything's ready for my Judy! |
| 7:40 AM | Doorbell rings. I look out window, see Jehu the son of Nimshi pulling away from curb like a madman. And standing at the door is... |
| 7:46 AM | ...Jesus! Jesus is at the door! For once I'm happy to see the guy! I fling the door open, and who do I see standing behind Jesus? It's... |
| 7:48 AM | ...it's... |
| 7:58 AM | HUBERMAN!!! |
| 7:59 AM | “Huberman?!” I scream. “What's Huberman doing here?” |
| 7:59 AM | “What do you mean what's Huberman doing here?” says Jesus. “You said you wanted someone special from your office. |
| 7:59 AM | Obviously, that's Huberman.” |
| 8:00 AM | “What?! Huberman's not special!” |
| 8:00 AM | “Oh, come on!” says Jesus. “Who could be more special than Huberman?” Jesus puts his arm around Huberman's shoulders, gives him a squeeze. |
| 8:00 AM | “Besides, I have several trillion more years experience than you so I think I know who's special and who isn't.” |
| 8:01 AM | “But I meant Judy!” I cry. “Judy's special!” |
| 8:01 AM | “Judy? I admit Judy's kind of cute,” says Jesus, stroking His beard... |
| 8:02 AM | “...but just look at Huberman! Look at the cleft in that chin, the dimples, the charm. The executive hair, the snappy dress...” |
| 8:02 AM | I grab my thinning hair in bunches, fall to my knees. “Imbecile!” |
| 8:03 AM | “Hey, that's enough of your lip, Buddy!” warns Jesus. “Let's not forget who sacrificed what for whom... |
| 8:03 AM | ...Those weren't little ¼-inch finishing nails in my palms you know — they were hot-dipped galvanized 8-inch cut spikes... |
| 8:03 AM | ... And did I mention my crown of thorns? Made from 100% poison ivy. Do you know how itchy I was up there? I had hives in my — ” |
| 8:04 AM | “Oh, shut up!” I sob. “Shut up about your spikes and your crown of thorns and your sopping sponge of vinegar! I don't care all right?” |
| 8:04 AM | “Oh very nice. I get nailed to a cross and this is the thanks I get?” |
| 8:05 AM | “I meant Judy!” I moan. “How could you imagine that I meant Huberman?” |
| 8:05 AM | “Because you're obsessed with Huberman. You always have been, so naturally I just assumed.” |
| 8:06 AM | “Didn't you read my mind? I thought you said you could read minds!” |
| 8:06 AM | “Of course I can read minds, but why bother when your species is so predictable?” |
| 8:06 AM | “Well you clearly didn't know what I was thinking!” |
| 8:07 AM | “Hey, I heard you thinking in front of my throne, Buddy. YOU thought, and I quote... |
| 8:07 AM | ...‘Huberman. Oh my little Bunnykins!’ You even texted it. Don't think I didn't see.” |
| 8:07 AM | “What?!” |
| 8:07 AM | “Well, look at the transcript. It's all there... |
| 8:08 AM | ‘Note that black side weighed down with thoughts of Judy, Huberman. Oh my little Bunnykins!” That's EXACTLY what YOU wrote.” |
| 8:08 AM | “I meant Judy!” I cry. “Judy is my Bunnykins!” |
| 8:08 AM | Huberman puffing out chest, flexing muscles. “You mean my girlfriend Judy? What about her?” Huberman seems to be inflating. |
| 8:09 AM | “Hey,” says Huberman, putting two and two together. “Is this guy the reason I'm dead?” |
| 8:09 AM | “Yes, but — you don't mind do you?” says Jesus. |
| 8:09 AM | “I thought you'd be happy to see each other. You are his little Bunnykins you know. I figured the feeling was mutual. |
| 8:10 AM | Well, anyway, I'll see you two lovebirds later,” says Jesus, turning to leave. Huberman advancing, pounding fist into palm. |
| 8:10 AM | “Oy!” I shout. “I don't want Huberman living with me! You can't leave me alone with him!” |
| 8:12 AM | “Sorry, Morrie, but we're a bit short on space,” explains Jesus. “You know, there are a lot more people here than we thought there'd be... |
| 8:12 AM | ...so you two are going to bunk up for a while. All right?” |
| 8:13 AM | “No!” I cry, “It's not all right! The guy's going to pound the living daylights out of me, can't you see that?” |
| 8:13 AM | “Well that's nothing to worry about,” says Jesus. “You know there's no pain in heaven, no death. Only joy.” |
| 8:13 AM | “And pounding the crap out of you for all eternity's going to give me plenty of joy let me tell you,” says Huberman. |
| 8:14 AM | “But it won't give ME any joy!” |
| 8:14 AM | “Sure it will,” says Jesus reassuringly. “This is heaven. It's all good here.” |
| 8:15 AM | “Oh please, Jesus! Save me!” |
| 8:15 AM | “Oh here we go,” says Jesus, eyes rolling. “Where have I heard THAT before? |
| 8:15 AM | Listen, I saved you already — remember my sacrifice on the cross? The nails? The spear? The crown of thorns? That was ME saving YOU, got it?” |
| 8:16 AM | “I mean NOW! Save me from Huberman NOW, you idiot!” |
| 8:16 AM | “Hey, let's not get stroppy, all right? My ways are higher than your ways, Buddy. A LOT higher, all right? Now you two get settled in — |
| 8:16 AM | — and later we'll have the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.” “What's that?” asks Huberman. “It's where we marry Him,” I say, pointing to Jesus. |
| 8:17 AM | Huberman's eyes as round as dinner plates. “Oh don't worry,” says Jesus. “It's metaphorical. Mostly metaphorical,” adds Jesus, winking. |
| 8:17 AM | Cell phone about to die, to just blank out forever and ever. Wish I could join it. |
| 8:17 AM | Here comes Huberman to pound the crap out of me for all eternity. |
| 8:29 AM | It's going to be good. |