What I am afraid of — Part Deux
I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. He told me that when I get to heaven, I am going to meet Jeremiah the prophet, who was stoned to death, John the Baptist carrying his head in a charger, and St. Stephen with arrows still sticking out of him. Each one is carrying a palm leaf in his hand.
John the Baptist is going to roll his eyes up and look at me.
John the Baptist: "Internet trolls, huhn? So people made fun of you?"
Me: "Well, I feel I was on a mission from God."
St. Stephen (his face like an angel): "Like the Blues Brothers, right?"
Me: "You guys get movies up here? Is John Belushi up here? Did he make it?"
Jeremiah: "What, you don’t think we turn people down because they die coked up in a whore’s bed, do you? The whores and the cokeheads are first in line. They know their life is messed up shit. It is the arrogant pricks we have to think twice about." (Gives me a hard look.)
Me (shocked): "People use bad language in heaven?"
Jeremiah: "God made pricks and god made shit, so we might as well call them by their right names. Wait — that’s something you said, ain’t it? Everything you say gets written down, you know, in the Book of Life. All your casual comments."
John the Baptist: "So what did you do in life, sonny? Write books or something? Sciffy stuff?"
Me (glumly): "Yup. But some meanies said they would not buy them." (brightening up) " You are going to throw them in hellfire, right? And I get to watch?"
John the Baptist (groping for words): "Um. How do I put this…?"
Jeremiah: "Let me. I can say it. You’re an arrogant prick, Wright. Those are your brothers and sisters. You’re suppose to love them, not cheese them off. Love, not tolerate, not be nice to. Love. Didn’t you get the memo? Written down in black and white. The Good Book. That thing that sat on your nightstand you never opened."
Me: "But– but– I endured their mockery! I was nice back to them! Sort of nice. Almost. Not in my heart, of course, but outwardly …. that is the only thing God cares about, right? The outward appearances?"
St. Stephen (shifting one of the arrows piercing his flesh to a more comfortable position): "Boy, you must have endured a lot. Didn’t buy your books, huhn? Called you names? You are practically a martyr."
(Saint Apollonia is also standing nearby, holding a palm and a pair of pliers. She does not say anything, because all the teeth were pulled out of her mouth, one by one, or shattered, prior to the persecution of Decius. This was before the invention of novacaine.)
John the Baptist (daubing at the stump of his neck): "Yeah, hoo-boy. You really suffered. Imagine someone not buying one of your so-called space operas. Ouch. Musta hurt. Let’s see. If forty people boycott one book each, and you get a buck and a half on each sale, that is, what? Almost sixty bucks. If they buy hardback, of course. What was your cut from a paperback sale? Fifty cents?"
St. Stephen: "I read one of your books, I think. Something about a schoolgirl getting tied up and spanked while wearing a fetishy sort of maid’s outfit thing? What was the title? Underage Rosy Buttock Cheeks of Gor?"
Me (looking casually at my shoes): "Uh…I didn’t think it was that bad … you see, as an artist, um, I was trying to explore the power relations between adolescent…"
Jeremiah (groaning): "Not another Onanist monkey-slapper! Worse than St. Augustine!" (to me) "It all gets written down, you moron. Omniscience means God seeing fucking everything!"
John the Baptist: "Let me explain it to him. Wright here is a doctor of the law, so that means we have to use small words." (to me) "We know all about your sins. You waived your right to privacy. You have no right against self-incrimination: your sins cry out with tongue of their own from earth and sky."
Me (lamely): "Well, that particular event in that book … Um…my sense of artistic integrity required me to…. perfectly good reason to include that scene… metaphor for escapist narrative … marginalized, ah, symbolic…"
St. Stephen: "Now, was that written before or after you were calling other guys perverts?"
Me: "Duh…"
Jeremiah (snarling): "Remove the dick from your own eye before you bitch about the speck in your brother’s. Dickhead."
St. Stephen: "I thought that book was OK. Well, parts of it. Well, there were some lines I liked. One line. In any case, your book was not as good as Man Who Was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton.He’s written a sequel: Man Who Was Friday. Collaborated with Daniel DeFoe. You can read it when … ah … you get out of purgatory." (clearing his throat). "Might be a while."
Me (cheered): "So there really is a purgatory? Calvin was wrong about that? Woot! Yeah, us! Catholics rule! High five!"
John the Baptist (muttering): "If you are darn lucky, there’s a purgatory. You better pray there is one." (He does not return the high five at this time. Wright stands there with his hand up.)
Jeremiah: "Purgatory is shaped like a mountain. There are seven terraces. At the top suffer the lustful. Then, in descending order, the gluttonous, the avaricious, the slothful, the wrathful and the envious."
Me: "That’s only six. Who is sent to the lowest terrace?"
Jeremiah: "Arrogant pricks."
Me: "Oh."
Jeremiah: "Guess what part of your sin body gets burnt off there? It’s gunna fucking hurt worse than being called a few bad names. That’s were you get to start. At the bottom. See ya in a million years."
All the martyrs wave bye-bye with their palm leaves.
About John C Wright
John C. Wright is a practicing philosopher, a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, and a published author of science fiction. Once a Houyhnhnm, he was expelled from the august ranks of purely rational beings when he fell in love; but retains an honorary title.
