Heaven Is A Frat

Junior and Frenchman Edward Lando is Punch Bowl’s resident religion expert. He gained international acclaim after publishing “2008 – The Year to End All Years”, “2009- The Tardy Apocalypse”, and “2011- You’re Just Gonna Have to Trust Me On This One”. As he waits for the papacy to review his write-in application for pope, he provides our readers with a cautionary tale from the afterlife…

Who do you know?

It all felt so new for Mert. He’d heard of Heaven, but this was really it (!) And look at all those people waiting at the Door, all subjected to Brother Peter’s caprices.

The party was bustling. From what he could glean from quick tip-toe glances, 5-year- old Mozart and full grown Michael Jackson were blasting their new collaborative piece, “Requiem of a Smooth Criminal,” and JFK was grinding on Marilyn, as always. Behind them, Steve Jobs captured everything with his iPhone; he was one of the few who felt he had lost power upon his heavenly ascension.

Mert just wanted in. Was that too much to ask? He hadn’t chosen to die after all. He deserved to get a taste of the booze and the clouds and the 72+ virgins (yes, Jesus and Mohammed had pledged the same frat). Mother Theresa lustfully eyed Mert for a while like she could just wolf him down, but even the biggest heart on Earth couldn’t come to his aid in this game.

I asked you a question. Who the fuck do you know? Now you either you call him, or you get your ass out of my face.

Oh my oh my… why hello ladies…

Dionysus (a.k.a. Rush Chair), who was living up to his name, yelled over to Peter after his fourth amphora stand:”

More virgins Peter?! Ya. Nice nice. Send em my way will ya. Please. Come in girls.

Mert’s ‘buddy’ Judas had ratted his way into the human chain the girls had formed to traverse the crowd at the Door… Without letting Mert know of course. Mert gave him the Look of Death. No forgiveness.

The pissant had smirked: Sorry, brah. Ratios… What can you do? Then he’d blown him a kiss.

But that was nothing compared to what came next. Satan himself showed up, circled by the seven ugliest dudes you’d ever seen.Mert was appalled, to say the least: That guy, really! Ya, of course. The hell you think supplies this shindig? He then turned to the Devil to show his respect. Welcome home Brother Satan, always glad to have you for alumni day.

Thanks Peter. Now boys, let’s light this party up! And they walked in like they owned the place, because they did. They owned the people too. How painful it was for Mert to see the Dark Lord’s hands slide onto Mother Theresa’s bare goose-bumped hips…

Mert was momentarily dazed by the putrid smell of the passing clique. And then suddenly, he was Divinely Inspired and goofily tapped on Peter’s irked shoulder.

Hey Peter, Peter! I know! I know Jesus.

… Jesus! Ha. All the Freshmen seem to know Jesus. Counts for shit.

Leveraging his meager 130 pounds to their full potential, Mert held his own even as big beefy bro Peter tried to sweep the noobs to make way for some more virgins.

Wait a second now Peter! Who do THEY know? … Pff. No one. Duh. They don’t have to. They’re virgins. Fine. Well, I was a virgin too back on Earth. So I guess I’m just as virgin here still.

That’s kinda sad. You think telling me you’re a virgin and you’ve never had a drink and just been one lame little goodie-goodie all your life, and that’s gonna make me want to let you in to my party?

Well… actually, yes. It’s in the Books down on Earth.

You’re right on that one. In the BOOKS. Now turn around, go home to your reading chair, and don’t come back.

Mert looked like his heart was being squeezed like an old wet sponge.

I.. don’t have a home to go back to. Yes you do. It’s called purgatory.

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