The Wrong Destination.

The wrong destination.

“So this is heaven; I’m not impressed. Whiteness everywhere. Where’s the colour?”

“Well, change it. This is your idea of heaven, not necessarily anybody else’s. For Christ’s sake… oh, pardon me, just slipped out dealing with you atheists. I’m actually surprised you even have a concept of a place you don’t believe in at all.”

“Natural, when you consider it, you kinda think what other people in their delusion think. I guess, ‘oops,’ should be my reaction. However, you have to admit, sinning would show up more easily in this pristine condition. And do people walk around here in slow motion? Definitely, running is out I should think.”

“What a jaundiced opinion you have of religious people. If you want to run, well, run.”

Grantly Mitchum assumed he must have died, but he couldn’t for the ‘life’ of him remember losing his previous existence. If this was heaven, then he truly was in hell. However, he had noted his companion’s comment virtually accusing him of making such a bland venue. ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘ they are bland. I cannot even imagine the seriously devout believer really laughing, smiling, yes, but laughing without a heretic burning at the stake, then no.’

“You do realise that your thoughts are as transparent as the celestial nose on your face, don’t you? Even the holiest get pissed off sometimes, and this provision helps to straighten up the odd halo that has gone askew.”

“What do I call you, by the way, Peter?”

This brought peals of laughter from his companion. “Poor Peter, he’s run off his feet with the number of applicants he has to deal with. He shouldn’t have denied knowing JC three times. For a laugh, see we can laugh, JC put the sound of a cock crowing on the Pearly Gate bell push. P still goes red every time he hears it. He has been heard to say that he’d wished he’d taken up money-changing as a profession, as he would have only had his arse kicked once then.”

“Thank whoever is responsible for a trace of levity around here. Does anyone tell ‘Shaggy Dog’ stories here?”

“Ah, Grantly, that would be pushing the boat out too far for those. Prat-falls will produce a snigger sometimes, but generally jokes don’t go down to well here. They tend to show up the more sinful side of our personality that we prefer to keep buried.

“Come to think of it, I’m wondering how you got here. We normally have a culling procedure to prevent us from bringing in possible agitators, and you appear to be a prime example of someone who should have gone the other way. They’ll be plenty of ‘Shaggy Dog’ stories down there, that is if you can hear them for the screams. I’m kidding, they don’t have much of a sense of humour there either. I understand HE

has a very ‘thin skin’ and is liable to make any humourist listen to the same joke for a thousand years without respite. Apparently, it’s a great ‘cure’ for humour.”

Grantly Mitchum was very subdued hearing of the two places where he was likely to spend eternity. He suspected he was a little late to suggest repentance. Maybe they may be amenable to flagellation whips and very hairy sackcloth and ashes. He felt desperate. ‘I’m not an atheist anymore,’ he thought, ‘that should count.’ He turned to his companion. “I still don’t know your name, is it one of those weird biblical ones like Zebedee or Abednego?”

“Weird? You are not doing yourself any favours with disparaging these fine names. In fact I do have a name which you might call weird, it is Andronicus. Grantly, what kind of name is that if not weird?”

“Yes, I tend to agree with you, families, you know. So do I call you Andronicus or just Ad?”

“Grantly, you are on very touchy ground here, I answer to Andronicus and not the diminutive Ad. More and more I think you might be a disruptive influence here, I’m not sure what to do with you. I admit I rather like you with your brashness and kamikaze attitude to someone who can decide your fate for the next eternity.”

“Oh, Jesus… oh bother, is that better? Look I’m sorry I’m upset. I’m in paradise if that’s what you call it, and truthfully, I didn’t expect it. I mean, be logical, could anybody really believe you have this set-up here? Couldn’t you at least have given us a guided tour of both places before we had to choose how to behave? I’m sure I would have knuckled down under my first wife instead of having five of them to tell me I preferred to be single and have my nooky attached to a telephone number. Do I have any options, Andronicus?”

“I liked the way you said my name, Grantly. Yes, of course, there are discretionary options. In fact, I’m in a rather good mood today, I’ve been granted an extra ring to my halo. You have no way to compare it, but it is shining like a veritable beacon. Yes, yes, pride is a sin, I know, but don’t you love to see the shine?”

“Do you know, Andronicus, I think it is splendid.” Grantly hoped his words weren’t showing up as the ‘sucking-up’ he knew they were. Desperation was turning him into a flattering toady. But, ‘needs must.’

“Have no fear today, Grantly, even your ‘sucking-up’ as you call it, won’t bring me down. Now to get to business; heaven doesn’t need to be white, think of some colours, not too Hockney if you don’t mind for a start. You can have naturally grown blue roses here in abundance. You might say the world is your oyster. Give it a try.”

Grantly reproduced his favourite Kew Gardens with a flourish and in that instant knew he was dreaming. ‘Just a vivid dream,’ he thought, ‘I’ll linger for a while now I know I’m dreaming and can get back to some decent honest atheism,’ when a sharp stabbing pain in the butt brought him out of his musings.

“I told you, your thoughts are transparent to everyone, even though there is no one else around at the moment. You are not dreaming. This is your new reality if you want it. Although you’ve been a bit of a prick in your time, you weren’t really a class A one. So you’ve had a glimpse of what you can do, do you want it. You make your heaven, mostly. You’ll need to stay on the ‘straight and narrow,’ no debauchery. No hot and cold running women all over the place, but consider it as like British Victorian Times without the behind closed door scenes.”

“Thank you, Andronicus, but is there another option, apart from you know what.”

“You surprise me, Grantly, creating your own heaven I thought would be up your street.”

“Somehow, knowing that I’m doing it takes away the surprise factor. I don’t wish to be ungrateful but I think that having to knowingly create my world each day just doesn’t do it for me. Of course, if the alternative is ‘down there,’ then sign me up. But you said options, that implies there is something else, am I right?”

“Actually, you are correct. You could go back. Back to earth I mean and carry on going through the life after life routine again. You possibly don’t realise that you’ve already lived through over two thousand lifetimes on earth and some of the other satellites that used to whizz around there.”

Grantly’s celestial mouth dropped open. “And do you mean that I can go back to being an atheist if there’s a chance to spurn your generous offer.”

“Yes, you can. It has been strange to see you here, actually. You are clearly not ready for the next step up the enlightenment ladder. Are you sure you want to go back to the tooth and nail fighting for a crust.”

“Are you kidding, I love fighting for a crust. Please send me back.”

“Very well, Grantly, I bid you farewell. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

Grantly, just born, was now black and as a girl named Azara. She lives in Burundi. Andronicus thought if he loved fighting for a crust, he/she’d have plenty of chances to excel at it now.