While waiting in the line at St. Peter's pearly white gates, a lot goes through your head. Did I invest enough time on Earth towards goodwill and humanity? Did I happen to wear clean underwear on the day I died? Who really shot J.R.? Anyway, standing in front of me in line was this guy in a ninja suit. I take that back. He was literally a ninja. Who was he kidding? Obviously, he's not going to get into Heaven when he's holding a list of people he's killed and the reasons he had to kill them. Read the sign, ninja! "Thou shalt not kill!" There are no exceptions here. This isn't immigrations, buddy.
After a grueling wait, I was finally greeted by St. Peter himself. I quickly handed him my papers and everything seemed to be in order. After a quick frisk -- as if the omniscient one wouldn't already know what I was carrying -- I entered what would be my home for the rest of time.
I must say that Heaven is everything I hoped it would be. The clouds are as fluffy as they appear from the ground, but they definitely don't taste as marshmellowy. The women are incredible, too. Picture the lovechild of Natalie Portman, Heather Locklear and Winona Ryder. That girl is ugly compared to the women in Heaven. And they listen to indie rock! Not the poseur stuff, either. By far the best perk of Heaven is what I have deemed "think it, have it." Just now, I thought about how great it would be to be sitting in a hot tub with a slice of tiramisu and a half-full decarbonated Grape Fanta. Voila! "God is good, God is great."
At the risk of sounding like a complete fanboy, if you can get into Heaven, go. It might require a lifetime of good work on Earth, but it's well worth the cost. Remember, eternity is a really long time.
