The Exchange Rate In Heaven

If I am wrong and Heaven and God are in fact, real and not just some made up campfire story, then I'm in deep shit.

Fast Forward to September 17, 2067. I've lived to be 89 but choked on a piece of tuna steak during a senior's brunch that morning. I show up, to my surprise, at the pearly gates, which aren't so much pearly as cold and dank. There is a 420 pound bouncer catching people such as I who must prove they belong before entering. I try and slip him a twenty but realize American currency probably isn't the greatest exchange rate in Heaven. He gives me a judging stare and puts me in the longest line I have ever seen, been in, or dreamed. Finally, what seems like months later, I'm face to face with God. Sorry folks. I was right about one thing. She's a she. And she is beautiful, bald...and black.

From so much back and forth talking, I have decided to color code:

GOD
TAM
KRISTEN
BRIAN

Why do you feel you belong in here? You never even believed in me or where we are.
I am genuinely a good person. I tried living life the right way, doing unto others as I would have liked done unto me...or whatever.
She flips through some pages in the HUGE binder floating in front of her.
You DID drive your poor grandmother around on errands because she never obtained her license. She pauses...Although you lied to her on many occasions about your car being out of commission or low on gas.
I was a GREAT granddaughter. She'd say so herself.
You visited your grandfather 5 times during his 15 year bout with Alzheimer's. And by the way, she wouldn't.
I was a great wife.
Which time?
I was faithful to Matt.
You slept with someone at his funeral...twice.
But I've only slept with people I was in love with.
But you've fallen in love- she looks at the binder again, 432 times.
I have a big heart? I search my brain. I was a thoughtful, loving sister.
You tied your little brother up to a tree and he almost died from bee stings.
At least we found out he was allergic! Pause. I was a very good friend to a lot of people.
You gave Brian Macauley beer for his birthday.
I didn't know about his liver until years later.
You gave it EVERY year...LAST YEAR, on his death bed!
I was involved in the shaping of many children's lives being a nanny.
Flips through the pages again. You've given a total of 4,686 therapy sessions to some very lucky psychiatrists. That's over 500 more than even Mrs. Leary.
I was a great mom.
You had a child out of wedlock.
I gave Matt's parents and my parents a beautiful grandchild.
She strips Friday nights to fuel her coke addiction...and she's 62.
That's not my fault!
You told her you smoked pot and as long as she didn't get addicted to anything, she could experiment.
Well, I was a good daughter.
You called your mother by only her first name for two years because, and I quote, 'she didn't warrant the title of mother'.
I didn't drink until I was well out of high school.
You've given over 1200 people lap dances, without pay.
But I didn't KNOW I was giving them lap dances.
Is that really your argument?
I never killed anyone.
Didn't I mention Brian Macauley?
I wasn't greedy.
You had 326 pair of shoes.
But only ONE purse.
That is also a sin.
Isn't there anything I did to deserve even a slice of Heaven?
Well, let's ask one of your oldest friends.

Kristen Bloeser appears. She is wearing pink wings and Chuck Taylor's to match. Her hair is in two buns. She has a romance novel in her right hand and a Dove Bar in the other. She smiles. Hello Tam. I tear up. It's been years since we've seen each other. It wasn't the lung cancer as much as her dogs catching rabies and mauling her to death in her sleep.
Kristen, why do you think Tam should be here with us?
She gave a pondering look, searching far and wide. She was an ok roommate, I guess.
Yes! See, I cleaned all the time.
You cleaned YOUR dishes and left mine in the sink. And I always cooked!But you were so great at it.
My brother was there more than I was. And I drove you to and from work everyday.
I came out to Cleveland way more than you came in to Erie.
You said my butt felt like tightly woven pudding!
THAT WAS DAVE!
Still...
Ladies!
And just like that, Kristen vanished.
Listen, I didn't know all this stuff was true. Heaven sounded so off the wall and you, yourself, was made out to be a skinny white man.
Really, could a man do all this?
We both laughed and shook our heads no.
Isn't there any way I could get in, some type of probationary period? Something? Brian Macauley transformed. He was wearing a stained up MTV t-shirt and what looked to be a sock in his pants. A beer can appeared suddenly in his hands but disappeared as soon as he tried touching it to his lips.
Brian, your Heaven is looking like Donnie, the nascar driver?
No, Donnie is part of my punishment from Amy.
Kristen didn't seem to be punished.
She was mauled by her own rabid dogs, Tam! I'm here to give you YOUR punishment. Its the only way you can get into Heaven. You must wear gouchos and granny panties. You can eat red meat and only red meat. You will never, ever have sex and must only take showers, no baths. The only music you will be allowed to listen to is country and one more thing...
Gulp
You'll never be allowed around an air freshener again.
NOOOOOOO!!!!!! Then Brian vanished and I picked myself up off the clouds. I looked straight at God, believing in her for the first time, and asked, So just how hot is it down there? And can I get a fan?