At The Pearly Gates

Something had happened below. There was an ungodly crowd at the Gates. A burly man with a red tie pushed to the front. 

     “Table for one.” 

     St. Peter was taken aback. “This isn’t―” 

     “This guy’s low IQ, I can tell you that,” the man told his followers. 

     Peter exchanged glances with the Archangel Michael. “Sir, we aren’t―”

     “Check your list. They’re expecting me.” 

     Michael whispered something to Peter, who nodded. “Ah, yes,” Peter told the man, pointing. “Our golden escalator will take you straight there.” 

     They watched him descend. “‘They’re not sending their best’,” Peter muttered. Michael shrugged.

Inspired by Being Judgey, and the numerous versions of Heaven I've imagined, the first one being on this link. Image by Marjorie at NightCafe.

Being Judgey (or, Okay Boomer!)

I don’t understand selfies. Who needs so many pictures of themselves? I don’t understand taking a selfie while pulling down a branch laden with cherry blossoms (right beside a sign that says: “Don’t pull on the branches please. It damages the trees”) and then getting into a car and leaving. I don’t understand people who post a picture of their food before every meal. I don’t understand spending every second of your vacation taking photos (most of which you delete eventually) instead of just being there. Are these experiences not real unless they’re recorded? Do we only exist on screen?

Inspired by The Rule of Turds. Image by Nancy not understanding.