I’m walking thru Heaven the other day and decided to drop into Immigrations and see what was going on. The old building looked like a typical state government building. Low roofed and brick, with short hedges lining the walkways. “Where’s the gold I wonder?” I asked myself. I’ve been to heaven many times and had never seen the promised gold. I was a little disappointed at this. Probably in Bill Gates basement.
Inside the building there were a few people mingling around in a ragged queue. “Brit’s” I thought to myself. Their version of orderliness carries over into heaven too, the poor bastards. The room had scattered chairs and smelled like copier ink. The walls were adorned with pictures of famous angels and Jesus. Jesus’ poster showed him wearing an Uncle Sam outfit that said “Join Now”. I smiled at that. Jesus never takes himself seriously, only the people he loves…which are pretty much everybody I guess. Jesus is cool that way.
I looked around for Peter’s office. His blinds were up and the door was open. I headed for the office.
Saint Peter sat at his des, looking at his watch…A Timex I saw. Heaven is where you find out what the good stuff is. Good thing to know for us few people that have an open passport to Heaven. Oh, there is no toilet paper in Heaven…I’ve looked. GOOD NEWS!!
I looked at Saint Peter. “Howdy Pete!” I said in greeting.
Not looking up at me he took another sip of his coffee while he read the Enquirer. The only truthful news outlet on earth I assumed. Oh shit…that means there is a Bat Boy!
“What are you doing back up here?” he asked, still not looking at me. He turned a page of the Enquirer. “Don’t you have anything better to do on that world of yours than haunt our halls?” He kinda laughed, but it didn’t come across that way to me. He sipped his coffee then set it down and looked at me. Resignedly he sat back in his chair and opened his hands towards me…“What question do you have this Sunday?”
I said (sounding hurt) “I don’t have to come here and ask questions, maybe I like your company.” He gave me a slight grin. “You know it’s impossible to lie here right?” he said. I laughed at that. “I’m just here looking around and seeing what’s up.” said I. I heard a rustle of clothing to my right and noticed that I wasn’t the only visitor in Peter’s office. “Oh…What’s up Mortis, I didn’t even notice you were here.”
The man they called Death was not in his usual garb today I could see. Today his clothing consisted of Bermuda shorts, a tye-dye shirt, and boat shoes. “I’m letting the office handle things today” he said looking at me with those bright blue eyes. “I had to take a break dude” he continued “that world of yours is a pain in the ass”. Glumly I said “Yeah, I know”. I looked at my hands. “But you’re good for a while” he added, seeing my embarrassment and concern for my earth and people. That was nice of him I thought.
I had asked him one time when I would die and how. That had been the first time I had met him. He told me he was tired of that question. He had handed me a business card that said “Don’t call us…we’ll call you.” Then he had handed me a round piece of wood, about the size of a silver dollar that had “Round Tuit”. Funny guy…
Saint Peter said “Okay…let’s have the question”…
“He knows me too well” I thought. I’m gonna mess with him.
I acted like I was deep in thought and very serious.
”What is the purpose of a mosquito?” I asked.
Peter didn’t bat an eye. He flipped up his iPad and said “Spell it”. So I did. I could hear him typing away (with one finger) then, when he stopped he sat back and waited. There was a ping from the iPad. “There’s no such thing” He said sternly “What kind of question is that?” “Ask for something I can answer”.
I looked at him with a blank stare. “What do you mean?” I asked. “There’s mosquitoes everywhere down there, you can’t help but see them sometimes…more like when they bite the shit outta you that you notice them!” “Well?” he said. I just checked our server and it has no record of…a mosquito you say?.” I looked at Mortis. He looked at me and said “I only know flies”, I thought of my friend RuRu. I wonder if he worked for Mortis on the sly…?
“Give me a description and more keywords to see if I did something wrong with this damn thing” He said crossly, tapping more keys on the iPad. While he was typing, he said “Did you know that Satan invented the computer?” I answered “No…that’s a new one”. But I could see the logic of it. Anything that is cursed that much and doesn’t burst into tears or flames has GOT to be of the devil.
“Okay” said Peter, “Shoot”. I started giving him words I thought would help with his search: Bug, blood, blood sucker, pest, pestilence, flying, disease…etc., He typed.
When the iPad pinged again, he looked up at me, a puzzled expression on his face. “What?” I asked kinda laughing at the face he made. “I’ve only got 3 hits on those keywords you gave me” he said. I returned, “…and?”
He said, “Lawyers, politicians and evangelists.”
Hmmm, that made sense.
“So…” I asked…
“Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him? ”
Saint Peter just stared at me.