An Auspicious Beginning

Unfortunately, I've died. I'm ashamed to say, it was an accidental suicide. I was playing a friendly game of Pololf, which you might know as Golo (though personally, I don't think that fully captures the blissful marriage of Polo and Golf, it sounds more like a ruffian's card game), and as usual, I was entertaining the crowd with my mixed bag antics by standing on my head on my saddle when an opposing player swicked a whacker into the tree line and my horse, impeccably trained to retrieve lost balls, charged after it. A low branch caught me by the knees. I barely had time to register that I was hanging upside down, when I heard someone shout, "Fore!" and a ball klonked my skull and sent me round and round like a windmill until I was flung from the tree, up and up into the air, finally coming down face first into the Goalhole.

The nature of the game necessitates a larger hole than that of golf but a smaller goal than polo. To give you an idea, it's roughly the size of my head. I was firmly lodged up to my shoulders and four days later, I was dead.

To my surprise, I was surprised. To feel anything was rather shocking. Then, I began to see bubbles of light in the midst of the unceasing darkness floating gently upward, another surprise as my head had been in a lightless hole for several days. Then I wondered if I was upside down, were the bubbles moving downward. But then a pale light welled up around my ankles and surrounded me and took me upward. Of course, with no point of reference, I may have been standing absolutely still. After all, there wasn't much scenery.

At any rate, it began to grow brighter and I found myself among others, presumably in a similar predicament, and we were standing in a line. This was not an ordinary line, however, not at all like the single-file assembly lines found at the DMV or the adult bookstore. This line was marked off by velvet ropes several feet apart so that we could all crowd around in communal warmth and brotherhood, and talk freely amongst ourselves.

"Is this heaven?" said one, wondering at this new place.

"Or is it hell?" said a more pessimistic other.

"I think it's too nice for hell," said a third.

And indeed, the surroundings were tastefully decorated with nonrepresentational but non-threatening artwork, and marble columns rose into a calming fuchsia clouds and the soothing buzz of the fluorescent lighting suspended magically above us.

I took a look at my fellow travelers and we were a motley bunch. Nearest me was an older woman with a perm of a most unusual shade of silver and a disapproving set of the mouth. Past her was a heavyset fellow who, if gluttony were a sin, seemed out of place. Though for one of his girth, he was likely fairly limited in the number of sins he could commit. Next to him was a man it what was probably a very nice suit, though it could have been off the rack. I don't know much about suits. However, he had a bearing of someone very important or at least rich. Also, he had a briefcase. I wish I'd known we could bring luggage.

I was about to examine the rest of the crowd when I noticed a woman standing just slightly apart. It took a moment to seep in, then I realized - this was Jennifer Lopez (who I like to call J.Lo). I had no idea. Then I remembered the new Us was probably in my mailbox at this very moment, or possibly on my neighbor's end table. With a tear, I knew that I would never again know the joy of opening my mailbox and have the juiciest celebrity news pour out like a rainbow from some wonderful bag of Skittles.

Checking my emotions, I was about to ask J. Lo how it had happened when our group was approached by a kindly old man with a small crown of curly white hair and a grandfatherly smile. His beaming eyes made us all feel safe and pushed off any thoughts of our recent, troubling events. I was not to keen on his sweater which even Cosby himself might not be able to pull off.

"Are you God?" asked the silver-headed woman.

"Who?" he asked.

"You must know God - the supreme being, the Creator, our Lord!"

"Oh, him. Yes, you'll meet him toward the end of the tour. Now if you'll all follow me, we have a bit of a hike in front of us. I'll point the notable landmarks along the way." said our guide.

Only a short distance on our guide stopped in front of a four-legged creature and said, "This, my friends, is an angel."

"That's a goat," I said.

"No, no, that's an angel. Though I won't deny the similarity. Much in the same way that your mortal goats eat virtually anything, our angels consume the cast off residue of sin excreted by our guests."

It was then that the guide pointed out the next landmark, a sign bearing the inscription, "Please remember to tip your angels."

"They also tell jokes," said our guide, "Would you like to hear one?"

"No thanks," I said. I'd learned my lesson after sitting through that "purple rose" bullshit.

The man with the briefcase spoke, "Hey, this angel's sniffing around my crotch!"

"There must be sin there," said the guide, and we moved on.

There wasn't much to see after that. Eventually we reached a towering gate. The bars were made of what appeared to be the sweetest honey, but probably more durable. Beyond we saw a gleaming city, pristine buildings stretching into heaven's heavens. In front of the gate was a tall man wearing flowing and obviously comfortable robes. He had a face that indicated its owner firmly believed in tough love.

The silver-haired woman was the first to speak, "God!"

"Good morning," spoke the Almighty, "What you see before you, is paradise. I'm kind of proud of it, really."

The silver lady spoke again, "O God, I always had faith that I would stand here with you!"

"Is that so?"

"Well, yes, Lord. I followed all your Commandments to the letter, and then I sealed the deal by shooting that abortion doctor."

"Yes, but he turned out to be a dentist, didn't he?" said God.

"An abortion dentist," she corrected.

"Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure, no, wait, I'm pretty damn sure I had a Commandment about not killing people. You know, the first one."

"But the first Commandment is worship you before all others!"

"Right, right. A certain someone brought a few extra commandments down the mountain with him. I certainly didn't dictate anything about 'no graven images' or 'honor your mother and father.' But it's understandable I suppose. Around that time the poor guy was having trouble with his son who wanted to get an earring and go to art school. At any rate, no murder is in the top ten."

"But God! All those poor babies! What about those murders?"

"First off, we don't really consider that murder. See fetuses and embryos don't have their own souls, we don't give those out until somewhere between the crowning and the chord cutting. Until then they just bum some off their mother. Her soul, her choice. And secondly, don't call me God, I don't call you Person, do I?"

"But what do I call you, O…you?"

"My name is not pronounceable in your human tongue."

Acting as a part of our group for the first time, J. Lo asked, "But we don't have tongues, do we? I mean, we left our physical bodies behind, right?"

"Don't be silly, your souls have all the features of your mortal bodies. How else would you know what was going on around here? You can see me, right?"

We all nodded, except the suit, who was trying to get mobile reception.

"And you can hear me, right?"

We nodded again, and as we were listening we heard a rumbling hum coming from a row of low buildings toward the edge of town, strewn with flickering colors, which seemed to me like neon signs, but there wouldn't be neon in heaven, would there? After a while we began to pick out moans and cries in the noise. A man in a brown and not very stylish hat asked, "What is that sound? Are those souls in pain?"

"Not exactly," said the Lord.

We moved closer and discovered that heaven indeed had neon signs, and those signs depicted, graphically, exactly what those sounds were. As is so often the case, the silver lady was the first to speak.

"How vile!"

"Nonsense!" replied the Lord, "You live a good life, you deserve to unwind. Besides, if I've already let you in, you don't have to keep up with ass-kissing. And anyway, it doesn't hurt anybody, everyone's dead!"

"Oh those filthy, filthy bodies! Why this isn't heaven at all" the woman was nearly screaming, "it's hell!"

"No, but that's the next stop on the tour," said God, "see you after eternity!"

A frightened murmur passed through the crowd.

"Just kidding! You usually work off your big sins after about three or four million years, then there's a probationary period for about another million. Take care!"

And down we went.