"Sort of a Christmas Story",...in a way.

"Sort of a Christmas Story",...in a way.

So I woke up at what I thought was Social Services. White halls with the smell of antiseptics. Long rows of hard plastic seats, and them flat screens with lately Fox News on them.
#45 was pissed when he heard government waiting rooms showed CNN or Cartoons.

So now we watch Fox.

It's almost as funny as Cartoons.
I was the only one there. It pays to go early. Still wait I did. 40 minutes into some Fox guy "proving" the moon is made of cheese. I see my code blink on the board.
This is when I realized I didn't know why I was there. No cards or ID. This gets you sent to another hall where you wait some more.
However instead of being drop kicked by security.

There was loud music.

Sort of like "Tubular Bells" from the 70's.
Santa the Tooth Fairy my Guardian Angel,...the worthless jerk, and my Grandma shoves me into a sedan chair. I'm processioned to the elevator to the tune of "Penny Lane".
Like the Tardis it was much bigger on the inside.

...a local.

Folks in costumes of different centuries was coming on, and off. They talked shop with my pallbearers or had faces buried in their devices.

Me I was just along for the ride.

We got off on 485th floor. I was dumped sideways off the chair into an office,...smaller on the inside.

Gawd or one of them was sitting at Her desk piled high with parchments floppy disks, and Edison Cylinders. She was smoking a pipe. She puffed away on "Holiday" tobacco,...like my dad.
She nodded to an old folding chair, and I sat.

Fox was yacking away on the wall screen.

This time some Nazi in a bowtie was saying how they want to exterminate everybody,...but in a nice way.
Lately these guys are trying to appear reasonable.
Anyway he was going on about how the lower orders could all be killed with Neutron Bombs when Gawd turned the screen off.
Sort of like that scene in "1984" where that Inner Party enforcer had the juice to turn off the tele-viewer,...much to Smith's amazement.

Sez Gawd.

"First off ya dead pal.
Dead as a bag of hammers in Hiroshima.
No I dunno how. Those details get lost up here, but ya a goner."
No there's no Heaven or Hell,...eh ya not going to cry or some shit? Religion makes people do that. No? ...good.

"Well there's an orientation to bring you up to speed. Eternity dark matter the non-temporal realms all that crap.
Ya gots a lot of unlearning to do before you can get along out here. Religion, and science has fucked you guys up bad."

"However that old time Diggers Beatnik Hippie stuff was close to the mark. Your file sez you was into some of that.
Let's see,...you was on da radio talking love, and stuff. Ya printed little broadsides about it too. Not bad.
You're full of shit about everything else though."

"So I'm sending you up for remedial ironic humor, and maybe reprograming about the properties of the Multiverse.
You guys got that one wrong big time!
Galileo took it well.
Niels Bohr, and his crowd of smarty pants was really pissed though. ...fuck'em."

There was a gong like at the fights. Me, and the folding chair dropped through a trap door, and I was in Heaven. Well not that, but the name will do.

A vacant lot in Cincinnati 1946.

Like some stories say they start you out with stuff you're used to. So for me working class mayhem segregation evil cops, and keys to a tenement. The upside,...this not being hell the digs was real cute. Like from Architects Digest.
There was some sort of 3-D Google, and all the greasy food I every wanted. Being dead there's no craping or farting, and ya can eat like the frigging Sun King.

I used the complimentary iPhone to order a 1932 hand made sky-blue Bugatti.
It appeared in my living room. I called back, and told them to quit fucking around. I heard a room full of kids laffing. They sent it down to the street.

I decided to start a journal blog thing.
...Chapter One.

"I'm fucking dead, but the food's great."

*To be continued.

(This is 'really' long. I'm pitching it to Netflix's .)