1.)
It’s a little known fact but the streets of London are absolutely clogged with shadows. These aren’t typical shadows. These shadows have voices. And holes where their eyes should be.
2)
About 5 miles into our trip to Heaven I asked my partner, Teddy, what his favorite song was.
“Why, that would be ‘She Believes in Me’ by Kenny Rogers….of course,” he said. “Isn’t that EVERYONE’S favorite song?”
3)
One more mile to heaven.
“Do you believe in magic?” It was his turn to ask a stupid question.
“Man, that is a stupid question,” I said. “What kind of magic? White magic? Black magic? Stage magic? Be more specific.”
“You know…MAGIC. The stuff in a young girl’s eye. The kind that makes a man believe in love.
“Oh, I see now.” I finally grasped his mediocre point. “If you‘re referring to that SPECIAL magic betwixt two young lovers on a shopping spree, I’d have to say, I don’t know. I never really thought about it, to be honest. Pass that bottle over here.”
4)
Upon consumption of several lager brews Teddy begins to make more sense than he usually does. I think it’s because when he’s drunk he forgets all of that astrological mumbo-jumbo he’s come to accept as gospel truth. His semi-occultic religion loses all importance to him when he’s intoxicated, and he frequently forgets he’s a Virgo, not a Leo.
Leo the Lion. A cruel, inhumane feline motherfucker. Oh, I could count all the times I’d like to take a hard rock and crush the mighty Kin’s skull into a bloody pulp. Silly lion, believes no one loves him, so he takes Jungle Law into his own paws and creates wildlife mayhem of mammoth proportions. All of this, of course, symbolic of the Astrological mumbo-jumbo Teddy’s grown to believe is the God’s honest truth.
5)
Heaven was just across the horizon, and lemme tell ya, the line at the gate was one long son-of-a-bitch. Me and Teddy figured we had plenty of time to kill, so we took a seat behind a sad looking, effeminate young man who kept belching and complaining:
“Damn it! Every time I belch I taste that bitter-acidic bile that comes back from my stomach! Not just every once in a while…EVERY TIME! I think I’d rather die than have to taste that stuff again!”
Teddy whispered in my ear, “That, my friend, is one unreasonable chap.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “:But the fact is, he’s an innocent man.”
“Oh, yes. Without a doubt about that,” said Ted. “If there WERE any doubt about it, well my cronie, I think I would gladly give up my place AND yours in this line to a priest who deserves it more.”
Bigmouth strikes again.
Wouldn't you know it? Father Joel, of the Stocksdale parish, walks up to us and says, “No one is innocent. Nay, not a one.”
“Well I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch,” said Teddy, as we both dropped through a trap door and fell, spiraling uncontrollably, down to the fiery pits of hell.
“You and your big mouth!” I got that much out just before the plunge, when I realized that I was destined to be a 21st century Dante,
6)
When we hit the ground, the hard unyielding tarmac of Hades, we walked around for a while and checked out some of the oddities.
In one area there were legions of Peter, Paul & Mary impersonators, all of them singing “Blowing in the Wind”. One of the Mary Travers look-alikes said, “Is there anything you condemned folks would like to hear?”
Teddy, in his unmistakable imbecilic fashion, said, “’Puff the Magic Dragon”.
At the mere utterance of those four dreadful words the whole joint started jumping and all the folk singers fell into the soup, screaming and praying to Bob Dylan for forgiveness.
7)
Bon Scott, late of Australian supergroup AC/DC, once said “Hell Ain’t a Bad Place to Be.” But I swear to God he wasn’t there that day when the giant holographic image of Zimmerman appeared in the flaming red sky just a-itchin' to judge all the people who had ever covered any of his songs. Roger McGuinn was sweatin’ bullets. Joan Baez fainted and could not be revived by any means.
Fortunately for everyone concerned, Man with the Golden Croak just happened to be enjoying a pleasant state of mind. His mood had only recently been leavened by a pitcher of Coors Light. Judgement Day turned into one hell of a party in Hades.
8)
The greatest rock and roll band ever assembled took the stage in front of a pyrotechnic light show that dazzled and amazed every damned soul in the joint. The crowd cheered and, in an obvious attempt to mollify Big Bob, launched into a killer rendition of “Like a Rolling Stone”.
Jim Morrison never sounded better. He was glowing with pride, having beaten Elvis Presley for the lead singer slot when the auditions were held the weekend before.
As you can imagine, Jimi’s solo before the bridge was a smash, but the real insanity came when the Captain and Tennille dropped in to sing the line about giving the bums a dime in your prime.
Everyone in the band was quite pissed off because Cappy and his bombshell old lady WEREN’T DEAD YET. It was a common understanding amongst the members of Hell’s Union that LIVING musicians were not qualified to work in the fiery pits under any circumstances.
Jim Morrison saved the day, though, as he belted out a stream of profanity aimed directly at Toni Tennille. Laced with sexual innuendo, this outburst had the desired effect of sending the “LIVES OF THE PARTY” screaming and skee-daddling north bound.
9)
The band wrapped the concert up with what may well have been the best version of “Sympathy for the Devil” ever performed. All it lacked was the original singer to put it over the top (“Ah, dontcha worry, mates,” Brian Jones quipped. “He won’t be long.”).
It was then that things began to get REALLY wild. The cocaine flowed like a big white powder river up everyone’s noses. Teddy decided that an orgy was in the offing so we walked due north about 300 yards.
“YOU’RE IN HELL!!!” a demon shouted at us.
The specter’s observation got me to thinking…Hell, hell, hell, hell. So many conceptions of what hell is supposed to be. All those fire and brimstone preachers trying to scare their flocks with visions of an ever-lasting flame…could that be the way it really is? Indescribable pain and having to suffer forever? That’s some hardcore punishment there, bro.
But lemme tell ya…being condemned to listen to the Grateful Dead for eternity may be a hard way to go but it surely isn’t as awful as the hell those Charismatic folks believe in. So let’s load up the van, pack a sack and truck on to the show, right?
10)
“Old man!” I shouted. “Is there someplace I could get a Reuben sandwich or maybe some spinach casserole?”
11)
All of this happened last night, you know. Teddy’s been dead now for the last three years. Three years is a lifetime when it’s cold out, but it’s a fucking oven out there today so I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself.
Yeah, I know. Easier said than done. Don’t I know the truth of that statement. What good does it so me, though? I still have to take the pills every night.
12)
Everyone’s crying in my beer. It’s been going on for so long that there’s no beer in my stein to cry in. All that’s left is maybe a pint of hazy tear-water.
They come from all over the globe to tell me their stories, trying to make me feel sorry for them. But I’ve got problems of my own. I am no counselor. Not a licensed one, anyways...
But seriously, my mind is being ravaged by a severe thunderstorm. It has nothing whatsoever to do with love. It’s a REAL STORM, my friends, with hail, high winds and a stunning array of thunder and lightning.
All that banging around up there has taken me back in time to the first time ever I saw your face, kissed your lips, lay with you and all that other heebee-jeebee nonsense that leads to a vulgar display of mammoth proportions. And all it does is get me hot and bothered. I lay in bed writhing, like I’m in hell again. It lingers and lingers and refuses to go away until a silly love song comes on the radio.
It’s okay, though, because I’m listening to the Adult Contemporary station and they play nothing but stale love songs 25 hours a day. I’ll never feel lust again.
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