So my good friend Diana and I shared a laugh on Saturday when I started into my theologically atrocious theory about why Will is so far past his Hospice sell-by date. It's dumb theology because I don't really think the Divine Mystery is an old dude with a white beard nor that Death looks like a Monty Python puppet. Nevertheless, in my imagination, neither Charon nor the Divine are looking forward to my hypercritical beloved's travel over the Styx or entry to Heaven (yeah, yeah, yeah -- I'm totally mixing up all the texts. So sue me.)
So here's Will on the boat. "Yeah, can you steady out your polling? This is a kinda crappy boat for such an important transition. Couldn't you have polished the brass a little? Really, it's kind of a mess."
And here's Will chatting with Gabriel: "You call this a Heaven? Warner Brothers created a more interesting heaven in Green Pastures. With better singing. I mean, yeah, you say that's a heavenly choir but don't you think Jesse Norman did that hymn better? As for halos, I have to say that mine is a little small and it has a couple of spots on it so if you could show me where to turn it in. . . "
Thank you, Diana, for being able to enjoy dark humor with me.
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