(Part 5/5) The Best Days Of My Afterlife

(Part 1/5) The Day I Died
(Part 2/5) The Day Of The Sermon
(Part 3/5) The Day I Sat Down And Wrote This
(Part 4/5) The Day God Had A Plan

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Dated: The Day I Got Frustrated With Death, The Universe and Everything


Now, God is a huge being. Its been what, some countless years since he stood on that stage and told us newly deads about the infinities of boredom and pointlessness. He was growing, atleast physically. Infact, He was now too big for anybody, or any combination of them thereof, to lift up or transport anymore. All He did, hence, was sit in seclusion, working and toiling away at his "salvation apparatus" in secret.

It was curious. Everything and everybody in all of heaven was curious. About the Apparatus. About what God was upto suddenly after millennia of sitting around being a beacon of optimism, reverse pessimism to be precise, to all of dead ones. But God did not let a sigh out of his mouth that would betray his intentions. There was no blueprint, no written plan or specification that he was working with, and no rest either. But still, at the end of it, in their heart of hearts, people knew one thing. There was one thing they held on to their chests with tight clenched fists. The knowledge that there was no escape. That however what may happen, you can't die again, and while you exist, you'll always have to think about and somehow spend the next moment, ad infinitum.

Years passed, and a violent sound struck the air one day. Continued churning of something heavy and clunky. I shut my ears with my hands but the sounds only increased. The bee broke its motionlessness. The elephant sighed. And then the elephant sighed again. A crowd formed and walked towards the sound, I joined them. The printer got excited and behaved like a TV news reporter, and gurgled out garbage. There were murmurs flying back and forth, against the background of the clanks and clatter from the direction of the sound.

A gasp escaped the open mouths of all except God and the printer. For God it was, that Great Gargantuan Tortoise, the Massive Titanic Turtle, who was up there standing at a slant on His hind-legs and about to be toppled by the machine, the Salvation Apparatus that He built himself! A silence ensued when God moved, through the air, in slow motion, with dumbfounded eyes watching, and racing hearts and motionless tongues, through the silent unsaid gasp that hung in the air, and toppled. He toppled. And rocked.

On that semicircular, hard shell of His, smooth like Motion itself, God slept rocking like a baby on its swing, peaceful and idle. Smiling imperceptibly. Sleeping. Cocooned in the comfort, that nothing could change now. There would not be another decision to make. No options to choose from. For once and for final, he was really free from thinking. Nothing can matter anymore. For nothing can bring him back on his feet, nothing can undo this final surrender. Complete bondage, captivity that can never be undid, brought him his freedom. Salvation.

And I stood watching. Mesmerized. Wishing with all my being. Wishing with every bit of my whole being, that I were a Turtle too. The best days of my afterlife were over.

(Part 4/5) The Best Days Of My Afterlife

(Part 1/5) The Day I Died
(Part 2/5) The Day Of The Sermon
(Part 3/5) The Day I Sat Down And Wrote This

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Dated: The Day God Had A Plan


I soon graduated to better things to do. I would turn a tap on and wait for the water to finish so there would be no water left and all heaven would break loose. I would wait for endless units of time with an evil grin on my curled lips but something even more exciting would usually catch my attention and I would leave, the tap on. My sheep count was now a 13 digit prime number, but I liked the number so much that I stopped counting further. I had already made brilliantly detailed graffiti on all the walls behind the secretive hidden doors all about the place. It was mostly reproductive organs. The depressingly maniacal bee wasn't so depressing anymore. It was exciting to watch it sit unmoving on the same precise spot for a span of 30 years, or some such big number. The spell was broken when the elephant had to go to pee, just for fun really, no necessity, maybe check if it still worked, and he was about to step right on the bee and then sigh, but the bee somehow managed to step aside, for it was painful to get hurt and not die. The elephant sighed anyway and went on. I saw him come back when the bee had already broken her previous sitting-still record.

Even through these hectic times, I did keep a check on the tap. It kept running. Everything is infinite here. Even the pages of the printer. It keeps spewing out something or the other, all the time. Even empty pages when it has nothing to say really.

Though my afterlife had many twists and turns, wars and victories, battles of the mind, and epic tales of love, passion and revenge, I still felt something was missing. Something important. Like the whole point of it, somehow. So I decided I would go talk to someone about this. God, I figured, would be the most appropriate choice to start with, apart from the fact that his misery always upped my spirits.

God, this time round, seemed actually to be enjoying himself in whatever he was busy with. Disappointed, I asked him what he was doing. He said, "Shhh". I thought about it for a while and decided he was just bullshitting me, so I asked him again. He replied,
"Fine. I'm thinking of salvation. Suicide, practically. And I am preparing the required apparatus."
  "Suicide?! But what will happen to all of life! All of living beings, animal life, humanity, printers, christians, all the people!!"
"They'll keep jumping in the frying pan for all I care. I doubt if anybody will even notice."
  "But how will you die? You can't die! Can you really kill yourself? You could, all this while?"
"No."
  "Phew. Thank God. My whole afterlife was just going to be rendered pointless."
"It is."
  "I know but, you know, you're worse right."
"Yeah."
  "So what are you planning then, there's no escape man. I've tried everything already, even boredom. It doesn't kill."
"Shhh."
  "Ok I'll ask again. So what are you planning then, there's no escape man. I've tried everything already, even boredom. It doesn't kill."

God didn't reply. He wasn't bullshitting. He just kept at it, some big levers and ropes it seemed.

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(Part 5/5) The Day I Got Frustrated With Death, The Universe And Everything

(Part 3/5) The Best Days Of My Afterlife

(Part 1/5) The Day I Died
(Part 2/5) The Day Of The Sermon
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Dated: The Day I Sat Down And Wrote This

The Orientation Programme got over with the stupid Art of Living workshop by Jesus. We told him dude we know your stuff already, you have no idea how big you are in the Frying Pan, but that only charged him up more. Still hasn't forgotten the high of being the Son of God.

The workshop ended and with it pretty much everything. Now there was nothing to do. Ever. Time, people don't realize, is Evil. And if too much of it makes you a devil's workshop, an infinity of it makes you attempt to kill yourself an infinite number of times, but you don't die. You can't die. And you're looking for the son of a #@$^% whose fault it all is. One such time when I was really angry, I saw God himself slouching at a distance, and doing something very intently. It made me angrier, and I wanted to barrage him with questions and accusations and all the new creative expletives I had made up in my existential outrages. And so I went to him. I stood in front of him, with my hands folded and my eyes peeling his hard skin off in my mind. And the Tortoise turned his eyes to me slowly. He took millenia to do this. And looked at me straight, his eyes had the frustrated skin-peeling quality too, but as if they were shut inside a serene glass wall. Now when I had his attention, I actually looked at what it was that he was doing. He was playing dice. And by playing dice, I only mean throwing dice, picking them up, and repeating. Ad infinitum. I was somewhat shocked by this, truth be told, that here was God himself, and all he had with him to do is play dice? And then God, as if he really was the omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient thing that he is made out to be, or maybe he just saw in my eyes what countless others must've approached him with before, slowly with great effort said to me, "And I even know what's going to turn up in the dice. Every. Single. Time."

That was all. That was all I needed to hear, I had my enlightenment then and there. I know because my ears twitched, and they never do. My enlightenment, the knowledge that brought me to peace for a long long time to come, was simply that, "God had it worse".

Until now I was only frustrated about how there was nothing to do, and even if there was, it wouldn't be able to, any amount of it, fill up the infinity I had in my hands. And that made me more frustrated. But God broke this chain. Now I was actually looking for things to do. Now I shut my mind to the endless, and concentrated on the moment at hand. And started doing something, anything, however trivial, and it never felt bad because God had it worse.

I think I spent a year trying to twitch my ears consciously, like they did on the Day of Enlightenment. I couldn't. It really was enlightenment, then.

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(Part 4/5) The Day God Had A Plan
(Part 5/5) The Day I Got Frustrated With Death, The Universe And Everything

(Part 2/5) The Best Days Of My Afterlife

(Part 1/5) The Day I Died
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Dated: The Day Of The Sermon 

Holy Shit. God is a Giant Tortoise!

Today was the first day of my afterlife, and God entered the stage, while we sat in anticipation. His size made it really hard for the organizers to carry him on to the stage, and he seemed pretty amused by this fact. Kept making inaudible jokes I couldn't hear from here, but most of them ended with a butt-slap as the punchline.

And then he spoke.

"Congratulations, Loodlings. You are in Heaven!

(Waits for Applause)

(Smacks a disappointed lip)

Impressive. But I should still warn you about a few things. You're in heaven, and you'll always be. You just jumped from the frying pan onto the kitchen floor. You'll feel liberated initially. As if you know higher dimensions to reality now, something more than just getting fried in the pan. You'll roam about the place excitedly, looking for secrets and hidden doors, spend time skating in the Sink, and in general feel jealous (of the very, very, much kind) of the terrorist lot. But once you've been through the negligible, exactly zero, percentage of your eternal afterlife here in Heaven, you'll soon realize: that the place is small, that all the hidden doors open into a wall (trust me, I made them), that the Sink is actually one-dimensional (and you were a douche to ever enjoy it in the first place), and that you can't get laid here. There are only 72 virgins we've got, and they're all reserved, sorry.

Infinities suck, and you have no idea because you didn't have to deal with them. Now you will, deal with an eternal afterlife I dare you. Your death is gone and done with, there is no escape anymore, and there is nothing even to escape from. Life's hard, but Afterlife's infinitely boring. I'll appreciate recreational ideas here to fill up this stupid infinite time, though there's really no point trying to do that of course, mathematically or otherwise. And then, your recreational ideas will all probably involve retarded ways to avoid the heat of the frying pan. Please don't bother me with them, or anything else at all. I created you guys so I could see retarded creatures jumping on a fuckin' hot frying pan and trying to make themselves feel life's good. But it's getting boring of late, I think I'll just increase the temperature a bit. Anyway I'm sure that'll be boring too, and I'll still be left with an infinity to spend.

Hmmm. I wonder what's the point of my existence. Sigh."

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(Part 3/5) The Day I Sat Down And Wrote This
(Part 4/5) The Day God Had A Plan 
(Part 5/5) The Day I Got Frustrated With Death, The Universe And Everything

(Part 1/5) The Best Days Of My Afterlife

Dated: The Day I Died

I think I'm still in transition, since I'm receiving email as well as all my porn feeds. But the amount of spam is increasing beyond belief, I guess more people want to enlarge stuff before landing in heaven for an eternity, and then again money isn't really such a dear thing anymore.

Though a few restrictions are already in place on us (yeah I've got friends moving with me here - a chronically sighing elephant, a depressingly maniacal bee, and a rather excited printer). Restrictions like, you can't say Hell, you'll have to replace it with Hall whenever you mean it. Though you can still type it, without getting slapped by the fat pink lady and getting muted for half an hour. Muted for real, mind you, like no voice comes out and shit. But its really not fair, since the printer's not getting slapped.

The fat pink lady (She is pink, mind you, not her dress) just announced that she thinks we're gonna land in another few moments of Time (she thinks), that she thinks will pass soon. If you ask me, I think we're already there and she's just fooling with us. Just hasn't got her fill of the slaps I suspect. She mentioned something like orientation or some programme and bullshit that's going to start once we get there. God will apparently come and lecture us newbie deads. And then there'll be a compulsory Art of Living workshop to attend, though I wonder what's the point of that now anyway. Traditions are just hard to break I guess.

Here comes she charging in from the door of light. You won't believe what she's got tattooed on the palms of her hands; "Talk to me." on the left one, and "Here I come!" on the right one. Very ironic, I would say. I think somebody said Hell or some shit, and is going to get a good long indifferent slapping now. What, why's she turning to me? Hell, why's she accelerating! What did I say I'm just typing away in peace, o' hel- (slap)


**** ** *** *

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(Part 2/5) The Day Of The Sermon
(Part 3/5) The Day I Sat Down And Wrote This
(Part 4/5) The Day God Had A Plan 
(Part 5/5) The Day I Got Frustrated With Death, The Universe And Everything