A Decent Halloween

Ricky Carver was a fast-talking salesman. He wore flashy clothes; he drove expensive cars and always had a beautiful woman hanging on his arm.  Life was idyllic until that fateful night when he and his date du jour had a celebratory dinner at Valentino’s Italian Restaurant. He had just been named salesman of the year and he wanted to celebrate at his favorite place. Ricky had steak pomodoro and one too many gimlets. When it came time to leave, he realized that he had imbibed a bit too much and was thankful that he had opted for a cab. He instructed his date to wait at the door and he did the drunken weave out to the curb to hail a taxi.  He lost his balance and fell, face first, in front of an oncoming car.   

Ricky woke up standing in a long line in a building that resembled a driver’s license bureau.  He gave himself a pat down and was relieved to find that his body was still intact. A short, slightly rotund and balding man in the adjacent line was watching him and swiftly turned his head when Ricky caught him staring.  “Sppss” Ricky hissed trying to get the person’s attention.  “SPSSS!” Everyone turned around to look and Ricky laughed and gave a nervous smile.  He edged over to the person in the other line. “Say! Buddy! Why are we standing in line?”  

The guy looked Ricky up and down and then proceeded to speak. “I am newly arrived, and I am in line to meet St. Peter.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard of him.  Plays pretty good music, no?”  He looked at Ricky incredulously and moved a few steps further up; his eyes on Ricky all the while.  Ricky moved up with him. “So, you gotta help me out here. Why are we in line to see this St. Peter fellow.  I seem to have drawn a blank and I’m trying to figure out what is going on. Is he really that good? My name is Ricky by the way”.  With that he extended his hand in a handshake.   The guy never took his eyes off of Ricky, yet never offered his hand. “Oh, I see how it is. I try to be neighborly, but you are some wise guy that’s too good to even shake my hand.”

“Why don’t you just go get back in your line?” whispered the guy in a stern voice.

“Because maybe I like this line better.” Ricky bobbled his head from side to side as he spoke.

“Obviously you did NOT attend the meeting or read the manual. Guys like you are irritating! You are supposed to be in the “waiting line”,” said the guy using air quotes.

“Yeah, well what is the “waiting line?” Ricky dramatically air quoted back.  The guy rolled his eyes, sighed and moved forward without responding.  Ricky had had enough.  He grabbed the guy’s shoulder and spun him around. “Look! All I want to know is what is going on!” 

“WHAT IS GOING ON IS THAT YOU ARE DEAD! YOU ARE GOING TO PURGATORY AND I AM GOING TO HEAVEN. NOW PLEASE GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!”  Everyone turned around to see what the commotion was about.  

A thin woman wearing a pencil skirt, peering over the top of her glasses and carrying a clipboard headed towards them. Her heels clicking on the tile floor. She looked at Ricky and then at the guy in line. “Unfortunately, Mr. Harris, your outburst has caused you to go over your allotted anger exceptions and we will have to ask you to relocate to the line to your left.” 

Mr. Harris stood slack-jawed and stared at the woman for a moment. “I have to WHAT?! This jerk comes over and antagonizes me and you are relocating me?!!!!”

“I wouldn’t really call it antagonizing…,” Ricky started to interrupt.

“D-D-D-D-D!!!!”  Mr. Harris said putting the hand of stop up in Ricky’s face. “Look, miss, this is all just a misunderstanding.  I don’t have a clue who this guy is. I was just standing here minding my own business...”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harris. Code Y275-Z states that when a person goes over the anger allotment, they will be placed in the waiting line.”  She said with air quotes. “Now, if you would please take your places gentleman”.

Mr. Harris, muttering all the way, begrudgingly moved over to the waiting line. Ricky started to follow, but being the consummate salesman, he felt certain that he could get both he and Mr. Harris talked back into the St. Peter line and potentially out of this strange event altogether.  Ricky wondered briefly why no one air quoted the St. Peter line, but the line-lady began to walk away. “Hey! Hey!”  Ricky gave her his best smile as he looked for the name tag that he knew she must be wearing. Yep. There it was.  “Ahhh Sandy.  That’s a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He gives her his million-dollar smile and tops it off with a wink. “Sandy, there seems to be some sort of confusion.  I was having dinner with my gi…umm… mother.  We were celebrating my award and then POOF, here I am standing in the waiting line.”  Ricky again used air quotes because that seemed like the thing to do.  “Mr. Harris over there (he waves at Mr. Harris who turns away) was just trying to fill me in on what this is all about.  Now, I believe I am here by mistake.  There isn’t any concert that I am interested in seeing, which is perhaps why I am in the waiting line.” He started to do air quotes again and Sandy, who had been standing nonplussed through the whole sales pitch, grabbed his hand and placed it by his side.   

“Mr. Carver,” she said very sternly, “You are here because you are deceased. Did you not glean anything from the meeting, or read the manual?”

“Sandy, I did not attend a meeting, or receive a manual.”

Sandy was taken off-guard for only a second. “Mr. Carver, may I ask if you had any cocktails for dinner?”

Ricky’s face lit up. “Oh yeah!   At Valentino’s they make the best gimlets in town. Whooo! A few too many of those and who knows where you’d end up!”   Ricky stopped and stared wide-eyed as he realized that this WAS where you’d end up.

Sandy shook her head to dispel the imagery and get back to the matter at hand. “Gimlets. Of course.  I thought they had fixed that issue.” She slapped a manual into Ricky’s chest, pointed towards Mr., Harris, who was still standing with back turned. “There. Go stand in line there.” With that she clicked back towards the front of the line.

Ricky was a little taken aback that his charm seemed to have no effect on Sandy. He blew into his hand to check his breath as he took his place behind Mr. Harris.   The silence was killing him and after a few minutes he spoke up again to Mr. Harris.  “Look, Mr. Harris, I am very sorry I got you moved over here.  I tried to smooth things over with Sandy, but she is a tough cookie.  I need to make this up to you. Whatever the concert is that we are in line for, I’ve got you covered.”

Mr. Harris spun around with fire in his eyes.  He tried to be as quiet as he could as he spit out his angry words in a crescendo.  “WE ARE NOT IN LINE FOR A CONCERT! WE ARE IN LINE FOR PURGATORY! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY STEPS IT IS GOING TO TAKE TO GET BACK TO THE ST. PETER LINE? DO YOU!” He had his fists all balled up.

“Purgatory? I’m not following.”

With that Mr. Harris let out a scream of exasperation and jumped on Ricky. 

Sandy’s high heels clicked quickly on the tile floor as she raced back to the man-ball and attempted to pull Mr. Harris off Ricky. “Decorum Mr. Harris! Do you know what you have just done to yourself? Do you want to be moved to the descent line?!!”  Mr. Harris stood still as a statue as he realized that the waiting line was much better than the descent line.

Ricky straightened his suit. He felt quite ruffled.  He understood Mr. Harris anger though, so he tried to keep to himself. He soon began mulling over the three lines and wondering aloud, “Seems to me that a decent line would be much better than a waiting line, or even a St. Peter line.  At least you know that you’re getting something good over there.” He fidgeted with his tie, “Well, I guess I could be wrong, but who ever heard of people not liking decent things.”

Mr. Harris could stand it no longer. “Look, you numbskull, she said DESCENT line, not decent line. Ya know, maybe you should head over there. I’m sure your work for them would lead to their demise.”

They stood in silence the rest of the way.

As Ricky reached the door, a gentleman placed a name sticker on his jacket. “Hey! That’s a good one! How’d you know my name was Ricky?”  The gentleman looked at Ricky for a second as he slapped the name sticker on the next person in line.

Ricky found himself in a large auditorium. He took one of the few remaining seats in the back. The room was filled with both men and women of all ages.  Soon the lights dimmed, and a man walked up to the podium. “Welcome all.  As you know, you are in Purgatory.” He pressed a button (Click) and a slideshow began with the word Purgatory in yellow on a blue background. “Contrary to what you have been led to believe, this is perhaps one of the most important facets of heaven.” (Click) a picture of white clouds and a big golden gate pops up. “Once you have served in the purgatory ranks and have earned enough points, you will be given permission to get in line for St Peter.” (Click) an image of a tall, thin man with darkish hair on the sides and balding on top popped up. The man is smiling and extending his hand in a handshake.  “In two hours, fourteen minutes and twenty-three seconds one of the most important days of the year will arrive: Halloween.” (Click) A black cat against a pale moon pops up on the screen.   “On Halloween all of those that have used the descent line will be allowed to ascend.” (Click) an image of ghoulish hands rising up from the ground is on the screen. “It is our job to ensure that their re-descent is done quickly. (Click) a cartoon image of a ghoul with an “x” on each eye pops up.  The number of points you receive, directly corresponds to the number of descenders that you corral. There is a supply room to aid you in your quest.  (click) A slide pops up of a room filled with every sort imaginable and not so imaginable religious paraphernalia.” You will be put into groups of two and given a game plan notebook.  Are there any questions? Good. Please see the back bulletin board for your assigned partner.”

Ricky walked back to the bulletin board and noticed, that as luck would have it, he and Mr. Harris were paired.  He looked at Mr. Harris and saw his name tag. “Ha! Waldo! I would never have guessed you for a Waldo.”  Waldo glared at Ricky. 

“Look. We may have to work together, but that doesn’t mean that I got to like you. Let’s just get the job done and go our separate ways,” said Waldo.

“Sure. Sure. No arguments from me.”

They sat down to go over the game plan and then headed back for supplies which included a new ride.

They walked out to their car to begin the mission. “Why did we have to take the sports car?” asked Waldo “Are we trying to impress the descenders?”

“You have to dress for success, Waldo, and that includes your ride. Now hop on in,” with that, Ricky hopped into the bright red convertible and Waldo grumbled his way into the passenger seat. “Now let’s see what this thing can do!” Ricky popped the car into gear and screeched down the street.

“Is it necessary to drive so fast?”

“What? Like we’re going to die?” Ricky said laughing. His laughter subsided when they spotted their first descenders. Ricky screeched the car to a halt in the parking lot. “Ok. So, what’s the plan?” he said as they watched this batch of descenders running amuck in the local food market.

“Holy water and crosses. Let’s rush in and take them by surprise.”

“Gotta say, I feel like Starsky and Hutch,” Ricky smirked.  Waldo gave him a sideways glance.  

They rushed into Harlow’s Grab and Go and Waldo hit a descender that was attacking a female shopper with a cross. The descender took exception to this, possessed the woman who immediately jumped on Waldo and started beating him and choking him. “Do…something…quick” Waldo said as his head bobbed up and down hitting the floor with each choke.

Ricky threw salt at the lady which did absolutely nothing. Waldo watched in disbelief. “You idiot! Salt? Give me a break? Shoot her with the holy water!”

“Aw Waldo! She is wearing Gucci.” Waldo’s eyes bulged in anger. Ricky decided it was better to ruin the clothes than face Waldo’s anger.  He shot her in the back. 

She turned and looked at Ricky. “Really? On my Gucci?” With that she passed out as the descender disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Ricky looked at Waldo saying “I told you so” with his eyes.

“C’mon!” said Waldo and they proceeded to send 10 descenders back.

They returned to their car and a bulletin came over the purgatory channel with the scores thus far.  Ricky and Waldo were pulling up the rear.

“We gotta find a way to score more points!” said Waldo.

“Let’s get a big group of the descenders together and we can send them back all at once!”

“How are we going to do that?” asked Waldo.

“What would be the one thing that descenders would find most appealing?” Asked Ricky.

“Got it!!! A revival! But how are we going to find a revival on Halloween?”

“I didn’t get to be salesman of the year by not being able to sell, baby! What we need is to find a vacant building, put up some flyers around town and the best media of all…play some good gospel music.”

Ricky and Waldo spent the next several hours putting up flyers, finding a building and preparing it and then finally they were ready for the throng of descenders to pour in. “Ok! Start up the music!” Gospel music came pouring out of the building into the street.  The building had once been a department store and the mannequins had been left behind, so they stood those up in front of the podium. “We have quite a crowd tonight, Reverend Waldo,”  Ricky chuckled. 

Before too long, descenders were crawling in from every opening in the building.  When Ricky and Waldo felt that it was at capacity, Ricky turned on the sprinklers that he had bypassed and refitted with a huge tank of holy water.  They watched as hundreds and hundreds of descenders disappeared in a sulfurous green cloud. “HOLY SCHMOLLY! That is rank!” Ricky said holding his nose and joining Waldo at the podium.  

They headed back to the convertible just in time to hear: “Congratulations to Waldo and Ricky for breaking the record for returned descenders!”  They cruised around in the convertible for the next  hour celebrating their victory.  

Upon returning, they were greeted with a hero’s welcome and Sandy presented them both with passes to the St. Peter line.

After everyone else left, Ricky and Waldo continued talking. “So…you know how I got here, but how did you get here, Waldo?”

“It was a crazy thing. I had just finished up at the shop and was driving back to my wife when this drunk idiot falls face first in front of my car. I hit him, and then went headlong into a brick wall. Died on impact…. wait…. how did you say you ended up here again?’

“Never mind, Waldo,” Ricky said as he gave Waldo’s back a pat.