Short Stories

---

Each one's
work
will become
clear.
for the Day
will declare it;
because it will
be revealed
by fire;
and the
fire will
test
each one's
work.
[1 Corinthians 3:13]
**************************
(Author is sitting on a
big golden bench, outside
the Bema-Judgment-Room,
in Heaven. She watches,
wide-eyed, as a newcomer
walks out of the Judgment-Room:
the newcomer is smiling
happily, and tentatively
touching the three crowns,
which are balanced on his
already-halo'ed-head.
Author grimaces,
nervously, and mutters
under her breath*.)
"Show-OFF!"

(A real big angel, appearing
calmly at the Bema-Door-
Entrance, looks up from
his Heavenly Clipboard.
Attached to the blue Clipboard,
is a big felt-tip pen: blue
with little angels all over it.)
"NEXT!"

(Author gets up from
the golden Bema-Waiting-Room-
Bench, rubbing her plump behind:
the bench is very hard, and
very cold. A can of cherry
soda is on the Bench,
along with an old copy
of Cat Fancy Magazine,
and a vending-machine-size
bag of mini-pretzels.
The Author is still
wearing her shoes:
a pair of dirty, old
sneakers, from Walmart.)
"Are you SURE......
I'm supposed to BE HERE?
I THOUGHT...if you
were a CHRISTIAN,
ya didn't have to GO
THROUGH all this STUFF?
Is IT BECAUSE...
I was FIRST.. JEWISH?
HEY! NO FAIR!"

(The real big angel
patiently frowns, and
merely points to the
Author's shoes.)

(Grimace.)
"I don't think THESE
would FIT YOU! YOUR
FEET are actually....
BIGGER than MINE!"

(Angelic frown.)
(Point.)

(Stepping, clumsily,
on one toe,
and then the other.)
"Okay!
OKAY!"
(Hold out dirty sneakers
to the real big angel.)
(Drop one size-eleven-sneaker
onto the
big angel's left
bare toe.)
(Woeful smile.)
"SORRY!"
(Lean over to pick
up wayward sneaker:
place it in the
big angel's waiting,
outstretched angelic hand.)
"Do ya know...how
LONG this is gonna
TAKE? I WANTED
to go visit the PANDAS!"

(Angelic shake of the
head. Big halo bobs
back, and forward.)
(Point toward the
Bema-Room.)

(Author slumps forward,
and starts walking barefoot:
dragging the edges of her long,
gauzy-beige-gown
along the Gold Tile Floor...
toward the open Golden Door
of the Bema-Room.)
_______________________
(Kneel, awkwardly,
on a little blue cushion.)
(Stand up again.)
(Grab edge of long,
gauzy-beige-gown: muttering.)
(Kneel back down:
squinting up at the
Bema-Seat-Pedestal.
The Lord Jesus is standing there,
next to the podium. On
the podium is a Big Book:
it looks ancient and battered,
like it's been in the ship wreck
of a Spanish galleon.)
(Author makes a face.)
"Can I ...
GO NOW?"

[LOVING GAZE.]
[SMILE!]
[SHAKING HEAD, GENTLY.]
[TENDER VOICE.]
"No,
My precious."

(Sneaking a mini-pretzel
out of pocket of gauzy-beige-gown.)
(Slip pretzel into mouth.)
(Crunching.)
(Whiny voice.)
"Why NOT?"

[PATIENT SIGH.]
[OPENING THE BIG,
BROWN, TATTERED-
LOOKING BOOK.
ON THE COVER, IS
THE FIRST NAME
OF THE AUTHOR:
PRINTED IN GOLD
THOUGH FLECKING
OFF, A BIT.]
[GENTLY PATIENT VOICE.]
"You have
just gotten
here,
My beloved."

(Frown.)
(Pause.)
"Can I TALK TO
THE JEWISH GOD?"
(Squint.)
"I'm just more.....
COMFORTABLE
with HIM!"

[SMILE!]
"You are talking
to Him,
My beloved."

"Uh.....UH!"
(Lean forward,
still kneeling: putting
one hand to the Gold
Tile Floor to steady
herself.)
(Squint up, at the Bema-Pedestal:
it's all Gold, and has little
crowns and scrolls sculptured
up and down on it.)
"I wanna' talk to
the JEWISH GOD!
Ya know: the One
of the Ole' TESTAMENT:
the One from..
Mount SINAI!"
(Irritably grabbing edges
of long-gauzy-beige-gown,
and trying to tuck them
about her too-big, bare
feet.)
"And...WITH MOSES!
And...the BURNING BUSH!"

[CHUCKLE.]
"Sit down,
My precious."

(Author squirms
around, on the Gold
Tile Floor....and,
sits cross-legged on
the little blue cushion:
leaning one elbow on
her gauzy-gown-covered
knee. She sighs,
impatiently, and slightly
bored. She grimaces:
squinting up, and around,
at the Bema-Room.
Nobody else is there:
just her, and The Lord.)

(Off to one side, though,
of the Bema-Pedestal, next
to the Feet of the Lord Jesus,
like a big brown and white puddle,
is a dozing bassett-hound:
it is a little plump,
and wearing a blue
collar and a big blue
name tag in the shape
of an angel with wings.
Beside the plump bassett hound,
is a blue dish of water,
a soft blue blanket, and
a little blue ball: on the
ball are pictures of little
angel-dogs, and dog-bones.
Its gentle snores are the
only thing that can be heard
in the Big-Bema-Room.)
"What's HIS NAME?"

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Bema."

(Laugh!)
"Ahhh! That's CUTE!
That's REALLY cute!
Ahhhh! He's so SWEET!"
(Squint up, again,
at the Bema-Pedestal.)
So, what are we
gonna DO, HERE:
WATCH a VIDEO
TAPE of my LIFE?
I mean....a DVD?
Cuz.....it wasn't all that
GREAT, to be real HONEST!
Plus, I probably look
too PLUMP ON VIDEO!"
(Gaze, longingly,
at the snoring bassett-hound.)
"When can I PET HIM?"

[TENDERLY PATIENT VOICE.]
"Not yet."

(Woefully hopeful voice:
albeit, slightly whiny.)
"CAN YOU SEND HIM...
OVER HERE?"

[FIRM VOICE.]
"No."

(Irritably grabbing
at edges of gauzy-gown,
again: trying to stuff
them under the sides
of the little blue cushion.)
(Woeful whine.)
"WHY ARE YOU BEIN'
SO M..E..A..N?"
(Whiny screech.)
"I DIDN'T
DO
A..N..Y..T..H..I..N..G!"
(Sudden pause.)
(Suspicious squint.)
"Is THIS because of
my BAD GRADES....in
HEBREW SCHOOL?"

[CHUCKLE.]
[PATIENT SIGH.]
"You are here,
My beloved child:
to discuss your good works."

(Squint.)
(Squirm on the little
blue cushion.)
(Push big glasses up,
on nose.)
"Ya mean.....my JOBS?
HOW FAR ARE WE
GONNA HAVE TO
GO BACK: that
BAKERY JOB....I HAD,
WHEN I WAS FIFTEEN?"

[LOOK UP FROM BIG
BROWN TATTERED-BOOK:
NOW WIDE-OPEN, AND
HANGING OVER THE SIDES
OF THE BEMA-PEDESTAL.]
[TENDER SMILE.]

(Embarrassed squirm.)
"Cuz......I think I
QUIT....or, got FIRED!
I couldn't get the
BAKERY TWINE right...
on the little pink BOXES..
and, I could never get the
CHANGE right, when
I rang UP."

[PATIENT PAUSE.]
[GAZE UPON RUMPLED
CHILD, MUNCHING ON ANOTHER
PRETZEL, IN THE WRINKLED
GAUZY GOWN. ON THE GOLD
TILE FLOOR, ARE PRETZEL CRUMBS.]
[PATIENT SIGH.]
"No,
My child:
your good works,
while you were on Earth."

(Squint, cluelessly.)
(Stare off, at the air.)
(Pause.)
"CAN I GO SEE THE
PANDAS....NOW?"

[PATIENT FROWN.]

"Can I get a SODA?"

[LOVING GAZE.]
[GENTLE VOICE.]
"There is a cup
of cold water
beside you,
child."

(Turn head.)
(See the big
glass of ice water,
that has suddenly
materialized.)
(Grimace.)
"Yich!
I HATE water!"
(Woeful face.)
(Halo slips a little,
down on the forehead.)
"Can I have a SODA?"

[PATIENT VOICE.]
"No,
My precious."

(Squirm.)
(Pick up cup of water;
take a sip, and grimaces.)
"This tastes just like...
PHILLY** WATER!"

[SMILE.]
[CHUCKLING.]

(Set cup down.)
(Squirm some more.)
(Shift legs around,
under gauzy-beige-gown,
on the little blue cushion.)
(Whiny voice.)
"But.....this is BORING!
I CAN'T REMEMBER
ANYTHING! IT'S NOT
LIKE I WON THE NOBEL
PEACE PRIZE, OR
NOTHIN'!"

[PATIENT GAZE.]

(Scratch head, impatiently.
Small halo,
already covered with
cat fur, slips off.)
(Holding little halo
in one hand, on lap.)
"But.....I DIDN'T DO
ANYTHING!
HONEST!
I RESCUED A COUPLE
STRAY CATS, IS ALL!"
(Trying, desperately,
to set the small halo back
over her rumpled head.)
(Halo falls down onto
Gold Tile Floor.)
(Mutter.)
(Grab small, fur-covered
halo: putting it back onto
her gauzy-gown-covered
lap.)

[SIGH.]
[RUFFLE THROUGH
PAGES OF AUTHOR'S
TATTERED-LIFE-BOOK:
IT'S OLD BROWN FAUX-LEATHER***,
EAR-MARKED, COFFEE STAINED,
WITH A COUPLE OF KITTEN-TOOTH-
BITE MARKS ON IT (ACTUALLY MORE
THAN A COUPLE), AND
IS LOSING PART
OF ITS MIDDLE BINDER;
A SWATCH OF OLD DUCK-TAPE
IS CLINGING LOPSIDEDLY
TO THE BINDER.]
[LORD JESUS SIGHS,
ONCE MORE.]

(There's a soft tap-tap,
at the Bema-Room-Door.
The real big Bema-Waiting-
Room-angel pokes his big
halo'ed head inside.)
[SIGH.]
[PATIENT FROWN.]
[FIRM, CALM VOICE.]
"Yes?
What is it?"

(The big Bema-Waiting-Room
angel pauses for a moment,
before speaking. His Clipboard
is now hanging from a blue velvet
cord, around his neck. The felt-
tip pen, all blue with little
angels on it, is dangling off
to one side. It makes a little
scraping sound on the edge of
the Golden Bema Door.)
"LORD?
I'M SORRY!
BUT......the NEXT NEWCOMER's ALREADY HERE!"

[SHAKE HEAD,
GENTLY, AND
PATIENTLY.]
"Well.......this is going
to TAKE.. a while."
[SIGH.]

(The real big angel glances
down at the Author, who is
twisting around to peer
back towards the Bema-
Door-Entrance, quizzedly.)
(Patient sigh.)
(Calmly nod.)
"Yes,
my Lord."

(Just before closing the
Bema-Room-Door,
the angel tosses something
light onto the floor beside
the Golden Bema-Pedestal. The
snoring bassett hound stops
snoring, puts his big brown
nose in the air, takes a sniff,
and opening one eye, slurps out
a long dark pink tongue toward
the waiting Baco-Bit.)

(The Gold Bema Room Door closes.)

(The Room is quiet again,
except for some slurpy munching,
and loud crunching.)

(Glasses slip down
the Author's nose.)
(Small halo slides off gauzy-
covered-lap,
onto Gold Tile Floor again.)
(Start to get up, from
little blue cushion:
calling after the closed
Gold-Bema-Door.)
"Who.... IS IT, MR. ANGEL?
TELL HIM TO COME IN,
HERE...OKAY? I'M SURE THE
LORD WOULD RATHER
TALK TO HIM THAN ME!"

[STERN REBUKATIVE
VOICE.]
[LOVING, PATIENT GAZE.]
"SIT."

(Turn back around,
on little blue cushion.)
(Very whiny voice,
almost a screech.)
"BUT......I'M TELLIN'
YOU! I DIDN'T DO
NOTHIN'! HONEST!"

[SIGH.]
"Oy vey."
************************
*Breathing in Heaven
is different. For one
thing, the air is really
clean and there's no Ozone Layer.
**The Author was born, and
raised in Philadelphia.
***The Author is against
anything leather. Other
people do have their
Life-Books in real leather,
though.


_____________
Dedicated to
the ten wonderful doctors
and nurses, who died in
Afghanistan, at the
hands of the Morlocks*.


*In the story, The Time Machine
[H.G. Wells; 1895],
the Morlocks were the group
of cannibals, who had evolved
from humans into sub-human creatures:
living underground in caves, and
grabbing the Eloi people, at night:
dragging them off into their caves,
and eating them. They could only
travel at night, because they
hated the light.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE