Heaven is Hell

  The line seemed endless. Like it would take forever, winding up a mountainside wreathed in clouds. Sometimes she imagined she could see the front; then it would disappear into the mist.

  And then, she was there. Two more to go and then one. Folks ahead were walking through the gates holding paperwork, looking somewhat less enthusiastic than you might think.

  And it was her turn.

  "Hey Pete! Here I am! Who woulda guessed it." She thought chutzpa and bluff were the only way this could work.

  "Hm. Yes. A few black marks - but you cleaned up your act in the last six months. Well done. The boss is big on redemption."

  What she could remember, she'd been in hospital, unconscious most of that time. But take the win!

  "So how's this work? I get wings, fly around, have all my fantasies fulfilled?"

  A sour look; he'd heard it all. Not taking any shit.

  "We like to keep a tight ship up here. The seven deadly sins are still an issue. Moderation in all things. You had a problem with some of that."

  He reviewed her record, half a page in his enormous book. Frowned.

  "Particularly five and seven. Not enough to disqualify you." His expression made it clear, if he had his way it would have.

  Looking up, all business. "If you'd put in the effort into following those, that you did following the 49ers you'd have been a shoo-in.

  "Anyway, here's your paperwork, you earned meta-Heaven level two."

  "What's that? Kind of like Heaven, but on the wrong side of the tracks?"

  He nodded; she had been kidding!

  "It has fewer Starbucks, and no Italian restaurants. Under the Seraphim commute-way so some noise from fluttering wings at rush hour. Just a few chores you have to do, upkeep on your place. Some issues over there with the power grid but not chronic."

  "Still it's Heaven, right? Eternal bliss?" She was looking forward to that. If it was anything like Molly...

  "Eternal, sure, until you break the rules. And bliss? Well, bliss is what you make of it."

  "Rules?" That sounded ominous.

  He handed over a flyer which she opened, to find it unfolding, flip flip flip, to the ground. From the top: No noise after ten PM. Keep Heavenly Abode tidy and maintained to the standards of the Housing Authority.

  A long subsection under that - maintain walkways and flyways adjacent. Respect service corridors when digging or planting.

  Skipping down, where was the good stuff! Relationships! Now we're talking!

  "'Relationships are Platonic, meaning no fraternizing without supervision.' What does that mean?"

  "Gotta keep up moral standards. What we're all about up here."

  And she thought Fuck that! What's heaven without relaxing the rules? Why spend a lifetime knuckling under, to get to heaven and knuckle under some more?

  "OK, here's your billet, 2210 Final Reward Court, follow the pearly path, cross the Golden Square. You'll want to take the alley, the Square is crowded with choir practice this time of day. Twelve blocks down, you'll know it when you get there.

  "And you have an orientation meeting scheduled with the HOA, you'll have to hurry."

  She was dismissed, another guy shouldered her aside and stepped up.

  OK, she could do this, how hard could it be?

  The Pearly Path was dingy grey, scuffed by millions of feet over the millennia. The alley was well-worn too, not well lit, flickering streetlamps, oil lamps?

  Somebody in an orange jumpsuit was tending to the lamps, trimming the wicks, filling the tanks. Used to be gold-plated but that had rusted off in spots leaving patchy pot metal.

  Lots of joyous singing in the Golden Square behind a wall, not anything she'd heard. Pretty monotonous, hymns maybe? They didn't have Taylor Swift here? Madonna?

  Twelve blocks and that left the square behind, through the mansion district, landscaping being done by something that must have been Hell-denizens in more yellow jumpsuits. Then the condo blocks, so tall! You couldn't see the tops, balconies all along with views of the whole Kingdom. Sweet.

  Then single-family homes, probably families that went together in a natural disaster or bombing and whatnot. Made sense.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  Then it got pretty humble. Apartments, duplexes, minimal landscaping, noisy. Bands practicing in garages, not very good ones. Teens running in the streets in raggedy bands, bored and looking for trouble, upending garbage cans. Painting glittery gold-and-ivory graffiti everywhere.

  Here it is! Final Reward Court. 2210, the one on the far end. A tiny lawn, a rusty garage door, what could be in there? A chariot?

  She giggled, a little past weirded out by now. Rein it in girl! Don't want to lose it the first day.

  Tried the front door – unlocked. So go right in, this was her place after all. Maybe it only opened to the owner? And inside there was one hairy guy wearing only Angels shorts, not the ball team; apparently they had their own teams up here. Watching a game with the sound turned way up.

  A second roommate - a severe woman, scolding the guy, turning the TV down, picking up stray socks and underwear, tossing it down a chute that gave a whisp of smoke and a belch.

  "I spend a century with my sister in Purgatory. Just visiting! I get back and he's trashed the place."

  Didn't look too bad; better than most of the places she'd lived. But not by much.

  Heaven wasn't living up to the hype so far.

  "Your room is in the back." so she went down a short hallway, a bathroom on the left, kitchen on the right, greasy stove with smoke damage all up the wall. Pushed through a cheap panel door on the end into 'her room'.

  It was tiny, one grimy foggy window overlooking a weedy back yard and then an alley. A garbage truck ground down that alley banging and smoking.

  "This can't be right. I lived better in Cleveland."

  Her roommate was standing at the door, hands on hips.

  "This ain't Cleveland honey. It's eternal, you'll never be sick, never die."

  "Never get laid? Never taste Italian food again?"

  She looked askance; "Don't talk like that. Enough black marks and you'll be trimming hedges in Holy Roller Park."

  She flopped on the bed, frustrated. Six months of hospitalization following a botched appendectomy, just to die of pneumonia from being bed-ridden. And this was the reward? She'd hoped for something, anything better than that.

  Her roommate answered, like she could hear her thoughts.

  "You don't like it, you can always emigrate."

  She raised her eyebrows, Where?

  Roommate pointed down, significantly.

  And there was a knock on the front door. They went out together, to see what new indignity awaited.

  A bright cheerful lady with an official yellow shirt, ‘HOA’ stood on the step with her clipboard.

  "Speak of the devil!" and the sour roommate left her to it.

  The HOA rep shouldered right in. "Let's take a tour of the premises, shall we? Now, the rules state you must keep in a constant state of tidiness against any spot inspections." She drifted from room to room making tic-marks on her clipboard.

  "A few issues right up front. Weed the garden. Fix the fence. Wash the windows. Clean the kitchen. And I saw on the way in, the Pearly roof needs polishing!"

  Finished inside, making a wide berth around her hairy Angel-fan roommate she suggested they inspect the yard.

  "That soft spot, under the front lawn? Some drain issue. You have until my next visit to address all the exceptions on this list."

  "How do I do that?" She had no idea whatsoever how you went about such things.

  "Call facilities. Schedule a repair." and she was off, leaving a sheet of fine print with scores of little checkmarks.

  Call? She tried it. Called out to the air.

  "Facilities?"

  Nothing happened, except some teens running down the street sniggered, made her feel conspicuous. She went back inside.

  "How do I call facilities?"

  The sports fan ignored her utterly. He'd not looked up once the whole time. Seemed riveted on the game.

  The other roommate pointed at the counter by the kitchen. There was an old-fashioned desk phone sitting there, the kind with a dial and a huge handset.

  She picked up the receiver, listened - dial tone! That was good. But the unit had no buttons, no labels of any kind. Feeling foolish she tried again, spoke into the device.

  "Um, facilities?" and the dial tone went away, some beeping and clicks and then a connection was made.

  "Hello?" No preamble, no offer of help. She heard conversation in the background, some laughing. A game on over there somewhere, maybe the same one her roommate was watching.

  "I have a soft spot in the front lawn. HOA says it might be drains. Can you come check it out?"

  "Where."

  "Um, Final Reward Court?"

  A snigger. "Give it a century, maybe it'll get better on its own." A guffaw from somebody on the other end and Click!

  She hung up, dispirited. Would she get in trouble if they didn't come? What else could she do? Was she going to Hell for a broken drainpipe?

  TV guy had turned the game up again, some loud brainless color commentary filling air. Shit, now she could see why her roommate had visited her sister for a century. Limbo couldn't be this annoying, could it?

  She felt her blood pressure rising, took a deep breath, counted to ten. Didn't help; it was still intolerably annoying here.

  Take a walk! Maybe meet some neighbors. Somebody else might have some ideas.

  The neighborhood was all of a sameness. Dirty windows, you could barely see anything inside. Untended gardens, wilted flowers, scrubby shrubs, dead spots on many lawns. Lots of loud TVs. Nobody outside except for the running bands of teens.

  A bus stop! Maybe she could explore, visit a mall? If they had malls. She approached but there was someone on the bench, huddled there. He didn't look too healthy. She turned to go before he noticed her.

  He sat up suddenly, annoyed at being woken. Saw her, lit up. A gnome? Or a gnomish person anyway.

  "What do you need? Angel dust? Hellspice? Hot pockets?" He grinned, a greasy sort of solicitous grin.

  Didn't trust him an inch. But wow, that all sounded pretty good. Been most of a year since her last hot pocket.

  As great as those things sounded, there was one thing she was really jonesing for. Would sell her soul for.

  "I need a good fuck!" Said too loud so he shushed her, looked around, worried. Then a smile, a leer.

  "Not here Babycakes. But I know a place. Follow me." And with a twist and some smoke he was gone.

  How do you follow a gnome into hyperspace? She waved one hand where he'd been sitting, felt something. Felt herself being sucked in!

  Deliriously psychedelic images and then she was on hands and knees in an abandoned hotel lobby. Throwing up, that had been a Hell of a trip.

  There had been lots of that going on here, to tell by the condition of the floor. She stood carefully, wobbly, avoiding the dried stains.

  "Party on the top floor, take the stairs."

  So, some squatter party. Worth a look. Been to some amazing raves in her day, in the most unlikely places. Easy to hook up.

  "What is it gonna cost me?"

  An innocent look, and she could tell she was being sold a story. "You'll take the heat for somebody's third strike, right? Simple."

  "Not cash? Nothing I have to do for you?" and he looked interested at that offer, leered at her ass but shook his head.

  "That's the only real currency up here."

  Hm. She didn't have any strikes so far, as well as she could determine. OK. One little strike wouldn't get her tossed out.

  She held out her hand, gonna have to do this on a handshake. What else was there?

  He struck her hand with his, stinging her palm. "Deal done!" and again the twist and smoke and he was gone.

  Next chapter: Thrills!

  She experiences the highest form of entertainment that the afterlife has to offer.