Heaven and Alfredo Sauce

I never understood the whole Christian idea of playing a harp for the glory of Jesus when I die and go to heaven. Personally, listening to a harp for the rest of eternity is my idea of hell. I'd rather have a noisy accordion and a crowd of people who hate accordions that I can annoy. I can be my own polka band, with one irritating note after another. My heaven is your hell.

Also, in heaven, we do not sit on white puffy clouds. Oh no. Clouds are boring. Who wants to sit on a puffy cloud all the time? Clouds are wet, cold and windy. Clouds suck. If you want clouds, Lucifer has a decent supply of those where he lives, 666 Hell Ave in HELL. No clouds. In lieu of clouds, we have beer. Lots of beer. Beer fountains, beer rivers, beer volcanos and occasionally, it rains beer.

The local diner in Heaven is never out of chicken lasagna either. You can get all the chicken lasagna you want. For free. And you never get fullunless you want to be full.

As to God himself, god is a black man. He's elderly with grey grizzled hair, wise brown eyes and a sharp white suit. On Earth, God has played several roles, such as Lucious Foxx, Red from Shawshank Redemption and he's also played Morgan Freeman in real life. Oh to listen to the deep and soothing voice of Morgan Freeman for all of eternity, praise be Mr. Freeman!

Hell on the other hand is a large city, like Boston in that there is a starbucks on every corner. And the local diner also has plenty of chicken lasagna. But in hell, the coffee and the lasagna costs money and in Hell, you don't make much money. The only food you can afford is from McDonalds. Greaseburgers for an eternity of service to Lucifer.

Of course, you could save your money, but it takes weeks and weeks of saving and you'd have to starve yourself. Of course you can't die, but starving pains are terrible. If you pull through with the thousands of dollars for a warm cup of coffee or a chicken lasagna, they've run out. Starbucks sits on every corner of Hell City, taunting you, mocking you, holding out that rotten carrot.

Of course, this is only your time off. Work in hell is basic. You get to make coffee. Lots of coffee. And you serve it to Lucifer's demons. But you aren't allowed to drink it. Your lips grow shut, kinda like in the Matrix when the Agents hold Neo in that cell. And your job is long and tiresome. And you want it. You want that rich nutty coffee. But you have no mouth. Oh! That tantalizing smell! How dare it tempt us!

And once your mouth grows back, the coffee is available, if you can afford it.

But you can't.

J Kuhl Signing Off