Sunday, June 28, 2015

Lying To Get In

Lying to get in


A J BURTON




What am I doing on this giant moving stairway? This must be a dream I’ll wake up in a minute. Funny thing is I can’t remember going to bed. Last thing I remember is crossing the road, I answered a text on my cell phone, heard some yelling, you know things-like.

‘“Lookout you stupid bastard, there’s a bus coming.”’

‘“Oooh did you see that?”’

‘”I feel sick, look at all the blood.”’

‘“Fancy texting while you are crossing a busy road, what a bloody moron.”’

‘“I think he is dead.”’

‘“Of course he’s dead; he was just hit by a bus for Christ’s sakes.”’

“It’s not nice to talk of the dead like that, what about his family?”’


 ‘“I think his head has come off.”’

Wait a minute, my head has come off? No it’s not, its fine but still doesn’t explain this bloody great elevator heading up into the clouds? Oh-uh since when are elevators made out of white granite? Why are so many other people looking about like they are as confused as I am? Unless- oh shit. Right standard procedure for checking if it’s a dream, pinch yourself.

Oow,” Bugger, one more time, this time a slap in the face like that fat guy did ahead of me. 

Ooooow, now that did hurt.” There is a distinct possibility I am dead.

Tap that guy in front of you on the shoulder see if he speaks. “Excuse me mate, is this a dream?”

“I bloody hope so my flight was due in ages ago.”

“Your flight?”

“Yep the pilot said we are experiencing turbulence and we are going to try and climb over it. What the hell is this place?”

“Look I don’t want to worry you mate, but there is a distinct possibility that we are both dead. I think 
I was hit by a bus?”

The man’s face went a whiter shade of pale, he started to sob. He looked away.

This looks bad, at least there is a heaven perhaps, at least this elevator is going up. Or maybe up is down, not a good time to be an atheist.

I was either on the stairway to heaven or hell. Mist surrounded me I was in a total whiteout. When the fog disappeared I found myself standing in the biggest, whitest lobby you could ever imagine.
The large sign saying welcome to the newly dead kind of clinched it for me. I was dead and this was the lobby of some enormous celestial resting place. There were thousands of anxious looking people of all ages milling about. I wandered amongst the marble columns with the rest of the boisterous crowd.

I began to get nervous; the religious were right and the atheists wrong. People were forming into lines. Children were ushered straight through a set of massive doors. They were laughing and skipping. White coated angels both male and female whispered and smiled. The line began to shuffle forward.

Eventually I reached a desk. Behind the desk sat a man with a long beard. He smiled at me and I smiled back. There was an enormous leather bound book open on the desk. He turned the page and ran a finger down it.

“Are you A J Burton?” The man smiled, his voice was kindly.

“Yes God, I am. I came as soon as I got your message.”

“I am not God, I am an angel and don’t be flippant. I was an accountant for Pontius Pilot and I am 
doing penance for my sins. I am here to welcome all the new arrivals.”

“Bad luck you being the accountant for Pontius Pilot, so God was angry at you for working for the man that killed Jesus?”

“No not at all. I was fiddling the books and I had sex with Pilots first and second wives.”

“Well they were obviously really hard times in those days.”

“Are you taking a liberty with me?”

“No just trying to lighten the situation a little. So it’s true, God really is a forgiving man. Can I ask you Mr. Angel, am I really dead?”

“I’m afraid so A J.”

“No chance of a reprieve or miraculous recovery then?”

“According to my records you were decapitated by a bus. An old woman who witnessed the accident was so horrified she had a heart attack and died. Would you like to speak to her?”

“Um, no thanks, I think I have ruined her day enough as it is. So what happens now?”

“Well you need to answer few questions regarding your eligibly to get into heaven.”

“Oh, I see. I suppose if there is a heaven there is also a hell then?”

“Well of course, you should already know that.”

“Oh, well I did of course. But you can’t believe everything you are told.”

“Why not it’s God’s law; have you not read the bible?”

“The bible? Well it was a long time ago.”

“Here in heaven we have a policy of totally believing the information told to us by the recently dead. Sorting out who’s lying and whose not is just too much trouble.”

“You do? Oh well that’s a refreshing policy. You believe everything?”

“Yes, I just said that. Look A J it’s a very long line and we need to move along. Now how often did you go to church?”

“Church, oh yes church. Um let me see, I went every Sunday if my memory serves me right.”
“That’s all?”

“No, agh - sometimes I would go at night on my own for some simple private prayers.”

“That’s good A J well done. You get extra spirit points for that.”

“Spirit points, could you possibly elaborate a little?”

“Alright but I am pushed for time. The more spirit points you get the better class of dwelling you get.”

“Oh, sounds a fair scheme. I was nearly a priest once.”

“Well done, that’s more spirit points.”

That’s when the little voice inside my head woke up. A J this guy believes everything you have just said even though you haven’t been in a church for years. This is your chance to - you know, get some more spirit points. I looked at the kindly looking man who was writing furiously in his book.

“Can I ask a question - um sorry I don’t know your name?”

“Call me Peter, but I am rushed for time. There’s a bus going over a cliff in Guatemala in an hour and I am going to be rushed off my feet shortly.”

“Peter, when did the accepting everything as gospel policy first come into force?”

“Right after the Second World War we were just so swamped with people, our leader Saint Peter decided we the clerks of heaven must be totally trustful of everything disclosed at this first meeting.”

“Yes I can see how that would be a problem. So did a certain Adolf Hitler get into heaven?”

“Wait a minute, I’ll check. Adolf Hitler, when did he die?”

“1945, April, in Berlin, Germany.”

“Yes here he is Adolf Hitler, Arch Bishop of Dusseldorf, former soldier, painter, aged 56. Why did you ask?”

“No reason, I have to admit on telling a small lie just before, I want to apologize.”

“Lying is bad you will lose points for that.”

“I just didn’t want to sound too boastful.”

“You must just tell the truth, please hurry I am very busy.”

“Alright I was a priest and later on a Cardinal.”

“Why didn’t you say that before? You will get a small bungalow near the seaside for that.”

Just a small bungalow?”


“Yes it’s not like you were Pope or anything.”

“Well I was considered for Pope but I turned it down.”

“You did, why was that?”

“I didn’t think I was good enough, so I donated the rest of my life looking after homeless children.”

“Your Spirit Points are going berserk. You have earned a large apartment at the Holy Sea beach resort, now.”

“I prayed a lot more than I admitted before. I was even praying when that Bus hit me.”

“Well done A J, when a man is killed while praying he gets the maximum points. You get to live as a personal guest of Saint Pious at his most holy castle. No need to say anymore. You will end up with all the great people, Arch Bishop Hitler, Saint Stalin, Pol Pot the pure, all the top people live there now.”

“Oh they do? Tell me Peter what does everyone do all day.”

“Well they do what they have done all their lives, they pray all day and even at night. Life is just one big Church meeting.”

“What forever?”

“Of course heaven is eternal. But you already knew that right? Here all religions are represented you get to talk with Jews, gentiles, Muslims, Buddhists all day every day. Religion is the only topic discussed at the Holy Castle.”

“Peter, I haven’t been quite honest with you.”

“Not again, remember if you have been caught telling too many lives you are sent to hell.”

“What do people do in hell?”

“A man like you wouldn’t like hell, A J. The place is full of atheists, lustful women, fornicators, people trying to have sex is rampant there. Not a virgin to be found. It’s just one big party after another. Men go hunting, fishing they watch sport all day and drink beer. Golf seems to be the main religion in hell. Wanton women are everywhere; sex is more common than conversation.”

“That’s enough Peter. I can’t stand the deceit any longer. I’m an arsehole.”

“No swearing please this is heaven.”

“Sorry peter but all I have told you is a big fat lie.”

“You could go to hell for that.”

“How far into hell.”

“Well you lost all your spirit points and now you are a lower level gutter snipe living in a one room apartment just down the road from a brothel.”

“I used to blaspheme all the time.”

“You will now have to live in a one room apartment over the brothel.”

“I have only ever prayed in my life to win lotto and get laid.”

“You will have to live in the brothel.”

“I cheated and lied.”

“You will own the brothel.”

“I always fiddled my taxes, and I looked at porn.”

“You own the brothel and live in a penthouse at Bright Sands Hotel for fornicators.”

“What do I need to live near the sea and own a boat?”

“Admit you slept with more than one woman at once.”

“I slept with three, no make that four.”

“You will be sent to the salacious sea resort for drunken, fornicating fisherman, actors and golfers. Your crew for your 60 foot fishing boat will be made up of sexually depraved women. My God man, don’t say anymore. You don’t want to end up in purgatory.”

“Why not, is it any worse than hell?”

“A lot worse, we send all the lawyers and Politicians there.”

“All of them?”

“Yes everyone.”

“Ok that’s it, I’ll stop there then.”

“Are you sure that’s everything.”

“Yep I’m ready for hell, I will just have to suck it up.”

“Alright A J here’s your get into hell for free card. Now go to room fifty four for your operation and good luck.”

“What happens in room fifty four?”

“You have your testicles removed, that’s why the place you’re going to is called hell. The lawyers added that clause in in 1927 they are such a pernicious bunch.”

“Bloody lawyers.  Can you give me a few more minutes Peter, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you this time either.”





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