At the Gates

Grey waves lap against a dark sky.

I could die at any moment.
Heart attack, infected toenail, bladder explosion.

What if that whole St. Peter thing is real?

"So St. Pete, how's it hanging?"
He regards me with heavenly murder.
"Hey--my lips didn't move--no fair reading my mind!"

I suspect this interview has taken a bad turn.

"So we're cool, right?"

I saunter to the pearly gates a little nervous but confidently reach for the latch.

"THUNK" and all the planets in every known universe bang against each other.

And I'm back in front of his ledger.

"Shit, I think my ears are bleeding!"

"JOHN ROBERT RICHARDSON" (You know you're fucked when your hear a middle name through bloody ears)

"Yes, your honorable Pete?"
(Down on my knees now and everything hurts)

"There are some problems here," he says.
An eternal silence follows.

Think fast, Johnny.
"Yeah, well if it's about that internet thing, I'm way over that and very much "ME TOO".  Power to the blessed double X!

He shakes ancient dandruff filled locks.

"No.
 That's not it."

(Any time now Rod Serling will tell me that I've "entered a dimension not of time and space...." and realize I've dozed during "Twilight Zone."

But no, oh no.

 My injured ears are assaulted by a resounding question:
"Do you know how many times you said "Goddammit"?

"Uhmm... I don't know, maybe a couple of thousand?
He shakes his head, unleashing celestial dandruff.

"And how many times did you say 'Jesus Christ'?"

"Hey, give a little credit here. I did a little door-to-door with Pastor Phil. Not every time was in vain, you know?"

"That accounts for 23 our of 11, 051."

(Jesus, this guy's a bean counter!)

"And how often did you proclaim 'God is Dead'?"

"Holy Fuck, shit, uh, I mean darn, only a few times..."
I pause for a Yoga breath and explain.
"Look, I took a class on existentialism. I needed the units to graduate and just wanted to fit in."

Eons pass. No response.
Looking up at nasal hairs unhindered by the passage of eternity, I realize something.
This was bullshit, pure and simple.

"Hey you know what St. Peter breath?
Fuck you and the cross you rode in on!
I'm out of here."

"YES, YOU ARE."