Heaven (or) A Pancake Breakfast With the Big Guy

Short fiction by Ben SD

Sunday, July 14-
God is in Heaven. I am on Earth. Happiness reigns supreme by these two assertions. I am running, jogging, exercising, going to live a long time. Faffleburg, Idaho, small town, not on any map in the known universe (God has deemed it hidden). Right lane. Yellow line, three feet left. White line, three feet right. I fail to obey a traffic light at the intersection of Main St. and Park Bench Rd. The gates are abruptly white and obvious as collision robs my sight and, lo and behold, Peter really is the guy from that auto insurance commercial! Lo and behold.

Monday, July 15, July 14, July 13, July Infinity-
Monday. Pancake breakfast for every creature who has ever died in the history of existence (including those sentenced to hell – they get no syrup), extending an eternity and more before the dawn of man. The ground and sky are white and never meet. Tables of brown wood stretch (literally) into infinity. I arrive at eight o'clock exactly, exactly as the sun, somehow impossibly bright, rises. Night is a distant memory, however, and it is always 8 o'clock or four thirty-three o'clock or some other time when the sun is always exactly there. There are no nights in Heaven. Each other guest arrives at the same time. I can see each individual clearly past the horizon which does not exist. My brain mourns for the dead thought of a skyline. The pancakes do not end. They are not stacked. They do not regenerate. They just don't end. Monday is pancake breakfast day and the pancakes do not end and each Monday, infinity spends eternity eating pancakes.

Tuesday, July 16, August 13, September 17, Forever-
Shuffleboard day. Wooden floors stretching out to the horizon that still isn’t visible even at the extent of my vision. And there was much rejoicing and the sound of sliding echoed through the heavens almost back down to Earth, still cut away from real time and eternity. Everyone here loves shuffleboard.

Wednesday, July 17, more Wednesdays, all Wednesdays-
Choir performance. They, the infinite masses who are separated from but the same as our infinite masses, sing the most beautiful song every time. They sing of God with voices that sound like trumpets in languages that are new with every sound from every individual. There is a punch table. It exists as stationary but is always nearby and never crowded, despite being exactly "nearby" every creature in existence. There is also a tray of cheeses and broccoli. No dip is supplied for the wicked but for the rest of us it is delicious.

Thursday, July youknowthedeal-
Assembly with God. We are infinite and each person has an infinite well of questions. We all get all the answers and ask nothing. God smiles down at us from infinity, flashes a thumbs-up and returns to those of his creations who still need him. Like other days, this one lasts approximately forever and we return to our respective beds (close by but the space of infinity from a neighbor) and sleep before there can be any night.

Friday, Junlygustemberever-
Social day. On this day infinity wears a suit and everyone has a glass of wine that was water and eats little cakes and talks about pancakes and God and music and Heaven and never of the sin of living because we are all so much happier now and can talk for the first time ever (and for all of eternity) about being happy. Every person has a tie and shiny shoes and their hair is nicely combed.

Saturday, Saturda, Saturd, Satur, Satu, Sat, Sa, S, …-
Today is Infinity's birthday party (an infinite number of Jehovah's Witnesses celebrate something else today). We all eat cake until we are full (and are never full) and drink punch and sing songs that praise God for graciously allowing us another day of the week in which to exist for another eternity and for letting that very same day be everyone's new birthday (except for Jehovah's Witnesses whom are not seen on those days).

Day of rest. Nothing exists on this day. Somewhere in the boundlessness of being there is apocalypse and everything comes to an end. Existence sleeps this day, however, and is not concerned.

Monday, July 21-
Pancake breakfast, eight A.M. sharp.