 |
||||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|||
|
||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
I am here in front of the Pearly Gates for a special report. It would seem that over the years, a large number of people didn't actually go through the Gates, but instead just sorta... settled down here. We're going to interview a few, see what's going on.
Me : Hello there. Bob : Hi. Name's Bob. Me : Well, hello Bob. What's you're other name ? Bob : I'm not lieing. My name's Bob. Me : No, I didn't mean... I mean your other name, like Bob Smith or Bob Bobbit or something. Bob : Name's Bob and that's all there is to it. Me : Your name is just Bob ? Bob : That's right. Me : Well, that's stange. What about this fellow here ? What's your name ? Bob : My name's Bob. Me : Not yours, his. Bob : Bob. Me : You're both named Bob ? Bob : No, I'm named Bob and he's named Bob. We're not both anything. Me : But you just said... Bob : Don't stereotype. Me : Uhh, ok. So what are you doing here ? Bob : Just sittin. Me : At the Pearly Gates ? Bob : Good a place as any. Me : But why don't you go through ? Bob : Through what ? Me : The Gates. The Pearly Gates. You go through these to reach Heaven. Bob : I don't know about that. Me : You know nothing about what ? Bob : 'bout no gates. Me : Look, see those big whitey things in the distance ? Sorta like poles with sideways shingles attached ? All pearly and shit ? Bob : (spits to the side) Myea. Me : So what do you think those are ? Bob : Some gates. Me : Thaaaat's right. They be the Pearly Gates. You go through those to reach Heaven. Bob : I dunno nuthin about that. Me : You read the Bible, Bob ? Bob : Certainly. Me : What's that, "certainly" ? Bob : That's a word you say when they ask you if you read the Bible. Me : But what it means ? Bob : It means what you say when they ask you if you read the Bible. Me : So do you read it ? Bob : Myea. Me : Well, so you know about the Heaven, right ? Bob : Certainly. Me : And the Pearly Gates and Saint Peter and only good people making it this far ? Bob : Certainly. Me : Well, that's them gates right there. Why dontcha go through ? Bob : I dunno 'bout that. Me : Well why not ? Bob : I'm good right here. Me : But on the other side there's Heaven ! Bob : I dunno 'bout that. Me : Look, on the other side there's this green pastures with ever green lush grass and fruit trees and everything. Bob : I ain't no goat. Me : Well, there's eternal happiness there too. Bob : Me, I'm happy right here. And since I ain't going nowhere, I reckon it's eternal alright. Me : So you're just gonna sit here ? Bob : My pops was happy here all his life and I ain't about to go nowhere. Me : Your pops ? That's bullshit, people aren't born here, it's just souls and spirits. Bob : Well go on talk to him yerself then. Goan, git. Me : Hi there. Elderly man : Howdy stranger. Name's Bob. Me : You too ? Bob : Whatcha mean you too ? I ain't no faggoty big town boy myself. Name's Bob and that's the end of it, and I don't care for no Joshua Tree. Me : Can't blame you for that. So is the guy over there your son ? Bob : Damn right. Me : What's his name ? Bob : Bob. Me : Just like yours ? Bob : No, not just like mine. Just like his. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are ya ? Me : Well, where's your wife then ? Bob : She didn't pass this way yet. Me : You mean she's still alive ? Bob : Yea, down there, the old hag. Me : So how long you been here by yourself ? Bob : I donno, musta been a while. From what I heard from people they had a big war down there, some moustachey fellow trampled all over the French and such. But I don't know nothin about that. Me : You mean World War 2 do you ? That's been sixty years ago. Bob : I dunno about that. Me : Well, your son, Bob, there, Bob, looks thirty or so. There's no way he's sixty. Therefore he wasn't born yet when you got here so he can't be your son. Bob : He's my son alright. Me : By whom ? Bob : By the Grace of God. Me : Look, Grace or no Grace you still need a woman. I know they keep babbling all that silliness about Mary not needing a man, but nobody came up with the idea of Bob not needing a woman, yet. Bob : Grace's a woman alright. Me : You mean you impregnated God and had a son that's named Bob ? Bob : You're new here, aintcha ? Me : Just passing through. Bob : Well then, go on to old Mare's saloon, ask for Gracie upstairs. She'll set you up. You look like you could sure use it, get some analytical inclination outta yer system. Me : No, actually, I'm like this all the time. Bob : Your poor mother. Me : Never mind that, you think you could explain to me how the hell there's a dingy decrepit shanty town all around the Pearly Gates reaching as far as the eye can see, populated by all appearances by a few billion people named Bob ? Bob : Nope, can't help you there. I'm just sittin over here. Me : But dontcha wanna go through ? See what's in there ? Bob : Ya, one day. Me : One day ? It's been 60 years man. When's that day gonna be ? Bob : I dunno 'bout that. Me : There you have it folks. They're gonna go through one day. Just not today. They're happy here alright. And besides, they're no goats, all them pastures can go to hell. Poor Saint Peter. 1 people were inspired by this article, and they ain't going through no gates. |