My entry into Heaven

When people die, it is obviously very important what you believed in while being alive if you will be saved or not.
So what is the reward for blind faith, or the eternal sceptiscism?

Isn’t it 72 virgins, or an eternity in bliss, or the bliss while you look down consiesly on the doomed, there is always Valhalla, Atman or the big nothing? Or the eternal damnation in a Dantes Inferno? Was Dante a messenger from the Christian God or just an insane artist whom knew how to swing a pencil?

What to choose, oh what to choose?

In my daily bliss of the Purple Haze, while watching the world drown as on a zitcom on Ecstasy, I envision my own journey we all must take.. Into the unkown.

I stand in front of St. Peter. He sees that I don;t have an entry card. To have an entry card, you’d have had to be a blind believer in all biblical accounts. Even the ones that contradicts each other, and denounce any other spiritual or comunal dogma that does not come from Paul and his letters to the Romans and the Corinthians.

St. Peter stands before me.

“Let me check my guestlist here!”

He is like a gorilla of a doorman.
“Nope! Sorry! Can’t get in! Lack of faith, and apostasy are the most dire crimes. The boss wants to speak with you propmptly!”

St. Peter reads through my file. It seems to be long. Thor is hammering with his hammer in the heavenly sky.

From the thunder, two figures comes out. One in a turban, and one carrying a cross over his shoulders.

They come to me, and watch me close. They are not friendly.

A bit hostile as it were! Some pictures were shown to me. And some written pages. It was my old sins as an evil, ignorant human being.

Oh, dear! I think I recognized those two. It’s the ones I have been making fun of all my life. Well, at least most of it. There was a time I took this bullshit for real. And then I grew up. And started to explore. They didn;t like that. Either of them. And now, they were leading me to the big sky daddy so he could condemn me forever for making fun of His son, and His favorite prophet.

I followed the two Prophets through long hallways. The walls were sticking out with human bodies as in a horror movie.

I asked my guides in front of me whom these were. They told me to shut up or end up just like them. The love of Jesus! Coming back to jugde the Living and the Dying. And this is how He does it.

We turn left in the hallway. Another one. The further I walk, the brighter it becomes. Light beings are standing side by side on each side.

I look up on a throne. A huge being rizes up in front of me.

I have either come to Heaven or to Hell, I thought.

-No, not yet you little ant, the creature said to me as soon as I made the thought.

-Are you God? I asked.

“yes I am, said the Neptune looking creature.

– You have many sins to be condemened for in the eternity of Hell, he said.

– I sort of figured that one out when your bastard son and your insane prophet led me in here, I said back. Somehow I must have smoked the right weed when I left my earthly body.

-Do not blaspheme my prophets in chief, the voice said to me.

-I am your Father, the voice said agian, and I love you! And I want you to worship me as a son and a child worships his father!

– Sorrry, what? My father left me when I was a kid. Didn’t you let your own bastard son die because you were too chicken to come down here yoursefl?

– I was myself in disguise, the voice said.

Good magic that one mate, I continued. Being able to give birth to one self, and then not remember when you die, except for a couple of words that no one heard, yet still recorded. Brilliant work! And you got almost half the world to believe in it!”

-You have sinned, said the voice to me. He didn’t care much for my inquisition.

Oh, I have sinned, yes! Want me to confess?

Ti’s too late for that now. Are you ready for your charges?


You have lied!


Were you not a believer once?


-When you are a sheep of mine, and not Satans spawn and listen to pop music,, you do not lie! It is clearly stated in the Bill of My Rights!

I lied, yes! Anymore?

You have cursed you mother and your father, and left your betrothed when she needed you the most! Hence your curse started at that time!

Jeeze! This dude means business!

– I deny none of those charges! Now will you piss off and send me to the fiery place now? Iæm sick and tired of your imbecile moral preachings. Started the whole shit when you spoke to only one people, and let everyone in the dark, until you unleashed an unJewish Jew to throw some sort of White man take over to do your bloodthirsty biddings! What my sin was that I did not do what was right in front of me. What my sin, is that you bastard plucked me clean even before I could get a head start! Wanna talk about sins and commandments? First! I covet whatever the fucking hell I want! It’s the dogma of your megachurches that your self proclaimed prophets are trawling for money, I hear! And then the same goes and buys guns and politicians and countries whom does not allow unions.

I never really left the one I love! She left me! Letting me hang there like some dried fish!

You yourself have a little problem with your temper don’t ya? What ever happened between the Torah and KJV? Did you get an anger management class after you sacrificed your snotty kid on a cross? Did you have one last outrage when you spoke to a bedouin prophet whom couldn’t read or write?

And can you really, in all your divine power speak to only one person or tribe at the time and only in caves or on top of mountains?

Can you do nothing more to show yourselv than to walk on water, and have undocumented claims of being born by yourself, through your wholy ghost to a 13 year old virgin? Got the hots for young chicks?

I started to interrogate the old bastard. Until he blew himself out of proportions, and forced me to relive all my worst nightmares as if I was on a mushroomtrip I couldn’t get out of. Suddenly all my sleepless nights came back to me. Visions of old, and I was there. Visions of something new, and what was lost was moving on and despising me. Not even giving me a single thought except for contempt.
My own self image shattered right before me.Splintered up into thousand pieces. And I was back to the worst times of my life. Images teased me with a moment of happiness for it to be blown up in my face like a bomb. And all hope was lost and gone…

Hence the interrigation with Jehova went on.

I have stolen. I have lied. I have beaten up jackasses. I have not beaten up jackaasses when I had the chance. I covet any woman with teeth and can walk!
If I could choose between living amongst morons or have 17 orgasms a day, I prefer the orgasms…

I prefer something better than this poor attempt of pushing Elohim and lsd.

God told me his sentence.

– As thy also have spoken up loud to throw me off the thrown, I must condmemn you to eterntiy to where I choose!

I was pushed down an invisible hole in the floor. Falling for something that could feel like eternity, I landed.

A door opened.

The last thing I heard was the Voice from upstairs.

“Enjoy yourself! Mohamhamhamaha!

Wasn’t sure what that meant. Someone looking like an old long Love showed me ithrough another door. I recognixed her.
As I was dragged into something that looked like a bar, I saw her walking away, on the arms of someone
As my tears start to pump out, I am dragged in. A famliar face looks at me.


The ugliest face on this bloody godforsaken galaxy were greeting me! Coincidently the best Writer as well. According to himself that is.

-We’ve fucking waiting for ya, son! We’re going nuts down here!”

Jimi Hendrix was playing Voodoo Childe in the corner.

Dr. Gonzo was sitting in the bar with a tube up his arm leading directly to the tank.. Hamsun just wanted to be alone. Bjorneboe was stalking anyone with a dick and an ear to listen to his socialist drivel. The beer was free in this bar anyway!

Shakespeare sat in his own corner reciting the same poem over and over to a dude in a dress.

Old Charles led me to the bar.

-Give the peewee the tripple double, he said. He’s newly arrived!

The bartender gave him a conspiratic smirk.


Now, 6 months later in this hellhole. On earth, according to the higly scientific Bible, this would mean a half a trillionyears, give or take, I’m sitting at my own table. I’ve met with all the pricks I once admired.

They are nothing but self absorbant scumbags.

They only repeat themselves to the endlesly. And they can’t talk about anything else but themselves. No shithead drama queen are willing to listen to the story that lead me to them.

So I have to try to write the story instead. And I’m getting drunker by the minute, but only for a secund. Like chasing the dragon. My pencils keeps breaking. Voodoo Childe is getting on my nerves, and Bill Hicks is still trying to blow himself off. Bending his back over, trying to reach his own penis. He’s still two inches away on the evolutionary scale.

Not even a full letter can I write without having to sharpen pencil I was given. And I am stuck in the story I need to write to get out of here. Upstairs I can see the bastards laughing at me. Having all that I once dreamed of.

I guess that’s how a Writers Hell looks like, eh?



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