Charlie's Vacation
By
Graybeard Paine
Charlie Benson is dead. I know he is; I killed him. My name is Charlie Benson, but I don’t expect that anyone cares anymore.
I know you’re not supposed to kill yourself, but I just couldn’t face the future. I always wanted to be rich or famous, to be somebody. I got pretty far up there, but got caught. I wasn’t worried about jail time, or being broke. I just didn’t want to be a nobody again.
The phenol barbital made my death easier than I expected. Cleaner too!. If I had used the pistol, it would have made a terrible mess. I didn’t want to leave the World looking like piece of half butchered meat; it was better with the drugs. I can tell you for sure that you’ll see a bright light when the end comes, just like they said you would.
Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I just want to tell you about the t mistakes I made. I’ll begin with the funeral.
The funeral was interesting. I stood nearby, looking at my body in the casket. I didn’t think I looked half bad. One lady said “He looks just like he did when he was alive.” I had to laugh though when her young son said, “No he don’t. He just looks like a dead old fart to me.” I noticed other people laughed also. Anyway, I was amazed that my own funeral could be a matter of laughter.
Some of the little people, like my employees – the people I stepped on or derided on my way up – were genuinely sorrowful that I died. A few cried or said prayers over me. Some even said good things about me. But some of the people I considered my friends seemed downright gleeful that I was gone. I will definitely have something to say to them when I meet them again. And, I will definitely meet them again!
Shortly after the funeral ended, the white light flashed again. I found myself standing in a crowd alongside a row of big busses. The gleaming buses were all painted an iridescent white. The name on the side said, “Angel Tours.”
Our driver stepped down from the bus. He announced with a loud voice, “Listen up! This bus will take you non-stop to the Pearly Gates. No smoking, swearing, fornicating or other sinful activities allowed. Behave yourselves or you’ll be walking.”
Now, going to the Pearly Gates sounded good to me; I’d been worried about that. But I couldn’t comprehend the rest of the announcement. Who would even think of sinful activities on a trip to the Pearly Gates? Anyway, before I could think further, the white light flashed again.
The bus pulled into a huge parking lot and the driver yelled out, “You have to hoof it from here. Remember where your bus is parked, section ZZX, space 9017.” It looked like the Pearly Gates were miles away. Thousands of people trekked toward the Gates. Damn, I never considered how many people die. Yeh, I know, they all do, but I mean every day. I didn’t stop to ask why I needed to know where the bus was parked if I was going through the Pearly Gates.
Anyway, I started getting views of Heaven as I got closer to the Gates. I thought it looked a bit like Disneyland. Indeed, it turned out that it was a giant amusement park. The Pearly Gates were nothing more than a long row of shiny turnstiles with a sign overhead that said, “Welcome to Heaven.”
The ticket taker, glanced at the ticket hanging on my shirt, stamped a red “X” on the back of my hand an passed me through the turnstile. I enjoyed myself immensely for the remainder of the day with free rides, good food, and fine music.
Midway through the afternoon, when I was enjoying myself most, loudspeakers boomed, “All members if the Angel Tours group should report to their busses. Those with a red “x” on their hand must leave the park within 15 minutes.” I’ve never been one to pay much attention to rules, so I ignored the announcement.
Fifteen minutes later, the bight white light flashed again and that’s how I came to be where I am. It really isn’t to bad except it’s boring as hell and they treat me like a nobody. I can’t stand that. I’ve got to stop talking; I see the boss coming and he’s a real sonofabitch.
“Hey, you, under the tree. Breaks over, get off your butt and get to work. You gotta get that hole dug today, because tomorrow you’re scheduled to fill it again.”
See what I mean?