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After I died, the angel Chazaqiel (he prefers Big Chaz) escorted me to heaven. It was a formal affair, and I felt— dare I say it— weightless with supernatural verve as we took off for the great beyond. And It Was Good.
… For a spell that is, until Big Chaz announced that we’d arrived. I peered around. These weren’t the pearly gates. No, here was just the bland mute earth again, rising closer and closer into view.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” I hollered, trying to keep my tone suitably serene as we drifted over a Walmart and past a cornfield. “I sorta just came from here.”
Big Chaz nodded, his cherubic curls bouncing. “And now you’re back. Welcome to Paradise!”
I paused mid-levitation. “Is there— like, a, umm— ‘superior angel’ I could speak to? Like some kind of angel supervisor?”
Big Chaz chuckled. “No supervisors except the Big Guy, and as you know, he doesn’t work Sundays.”
“But I can’t be here again! Isn’t there anyone else who can help?”
“Listen pal,” said Big Chaz, his eyes sparkling a luminous periwinkle to indicate that he was still pretty freaking angelic, despite the somewhat huffy tone, “In what world did you think this wasn’t heaven? There’s enough food and air and shelter and medicine for every person on the planet, if you divide it fairly. There’s no natural waste: waste wasn’t a concept until you created it. Every creature, every plant, every being wields the power to advance the growth of other beings. We literally handed you the keys to the kingdom and the blueprints to paradise. I mean, for Christ’s Sake— pardon my French— we gave you lightning bugs! And figs! And snapdragons! And sunsets! And koala bears! If little lightning bugs didn’t tip you off that you were living in a spiritual dimension, what would?!”
My mouth, newly pert and wrinkle-free on account of the recent Ascension, fell open.
“Yep,” said Big Chaz. “The only issues here on earth are the ones you made yourselves: trash, cruelty, processed foods, the Kardashians. The reason you treat your house so badly is because you’re laboring under the delusion that it’s a dress rehearsal for… somewhere else.”
“But what do I do now?” I wailed, pleased to note that my whine sounded rather like a lute string.
“Simple. Now you go back and try again. And the instinct to try again? That’s heaven.”
Big Chaz rose higher into the clouds, even as I appeared to be drifting down towards the closest Starbucks. “Oh, and pal?” he called over his winged shoulders, “Try to figure all of this out before death next time. Makes my job a heck of a lot easier.”
What a beautiful story to kickstart my brain this morning. Thank you!
Loved it. Especially the Kardashians bit.