Apologies for being late with this one; it had to go through a little more processing than usual. It’s not as funny as some weeks, but it wasn’t written with that solely in mind. I hope you all enjoy. David’s had his up since yesterday here. It’s very funny, especially if you know someone like the protagonists or, sadly, are someone like the protagonists. Michael did not put up a sketch this week and is sitting on the sidelines with some family business. My best wishes go out to him and his family.

For those “keeping score”, David and I played shuffleboard instead of fighting this week. He beat me when the sound of helicopters gave me a flashback.

Red’s Welcome
(Long queue at the Pearly Gates. At the front of the line, dapper in his tux, stands Leo “Red” Rush, a man’s man of 84 years. Hale and hearty, the tux strains against the rejuvenated body within. St. Peter sits at the desk.)

PETER
Red! Welcome. We’ve been waiting for you.

RED
Oh good! I wasn’t sure which way I was going.

PETER
It was never really in doubt up here.

RED
Long life, you know. A few, er, indiscretions and dalliances. And I might have been a little loose with my tongue a few times.

PETER
Well fuck, Red! Where the hell you think you are here? A tea room?

RED
I uh, didn’t expect you to…did I just hear you right? Did you say —

PETER
— fuck? Fuck yah, I did. I was a fisherman, Red. How did you think I’d talk? Like a Hallmark card? C’mon. I’ve got a break due, why don’t I show you around the place and give you the skinny. Everyone, I’m taking five. Cherubs should be by with honey roasted peanuts and fresh baked cookies in a minute. If you’re a little tired from your death, ask for a moist cloth. They’re very refreshing.

(Peter and Red head through the gates and into heaven. It looks like a pristine German village, so clean as to appear brand new. Innumerable happy people stroll, sit at cafes, and laugh with friends.)

RED
Heaven looks like Bavaria?

PETER
Think of it as an infinitely large Epcot Center. I thought you might like a Märzen after your trip.

(Peter puts out his hands and two tall, frosty beers appear. He hands one to Red and takes a long draught of his own.)

RED
You’ve got a little…there’s…St. Peter, you’ve got foam in your beard. (Peter wipes off) I’ve got to tell you, this isn’t what I was expecting. All my life…I just figured there’d be halos and harps and angels with wings.

PETER
We’ve got that too, but who wants to hang out with those types? You were in the war, right Red?

RED
Yes sir.

PETER
You’ll find things are a little different here. If you’d like, you can join a league and play against your old enemies. We’ve got ping pong, softball, soccer, volleyball, actually an infinite number of games. Usually the old warriors get a kick out of that.

RED
There are Nazis in heaven?

PETER
Not exactly. There are quite a few former soldiers, though. You know, now that I think about it, you might enjoy this. See that movie theater?

(Sign on the marquee reads: “Hitler Boiling In Oil: Shows start every 15 minutes”)

PETER (Cont)
It’s run longer than “Cats”.

RED
Peter? You know what I’d really like is to look in on my family. Is there any way to do that?

PETER
Sure. Come over here. We’ve got these kiosks all over the place. You just type in the name of the person you want to see and they pop up on the monitor. You can even send them messages.

RED
I can?

PETER
Sure. Here’s the icon for Ethereal Messenger. You click this…no wait, you have to double click. Sorry. We just changed over from Macs to Windows. There’s a little adjustment. Damn Apple store sold us a bunch of computers and promised on a stack of bibles they’d run all our software. We installed the EM software on all these shiny new boxes and it just wouldn’t start. Boss said he’d had it with Jobs and “that whole bunch of clove-smoking, beret-wearing, shiny happy lemmings.” Called up Gates and put in the order the next morning. Good thing that guy gave all that money away or we’d be stuck running Ubuntu or something. Good luck getting support for that!

Anyway, here we go. Who’d you like to message?

RED
My grandson Michael. How does this work?

PETER
You can just click one of these smileys and he’ll get a warm, protected feeling for a minute. Or you can type a message here and it will be delivered the next time he dreams. You want to type it?

RED
Yeah. Thanks, Peter.

(Red types his message on the clunky, but fully functional computer: “You’re a good boy, Michael. I’ve always loved you. Granddad.”)

BLACKOUT