Emails from Hell, part eighteen.

Our visitor is about to see God Himself!

{beginning of email}

            “Frankenstein, come hither posthaste!” yelled Henry VIII.

            A man with dark hair and dark framed glasses came running. “Yes, your majesty.”

            “Another peon who wants to see inside of God’s Assembly,” the King-turned-Chamberlain said.

            “I’ll see to it right away, Your Majesty,” said the man, bowing deeply. Andrew chose to stay behind. The man led me through a dark hallway.

            “Are you, I mean, the real Frankenstein?” I was frightened in the darkness. “The monster?”

            “Actually,” he man said, “Frankenstein was the scientist who made the monster. Who wasn’t really a monster until the fundamentalist villagers started shouting out for his blood, or whatever he had, to be shed. And my name isn’t Frankenstein. It’s Franken. Al Franken.”

            “Name rings a bell,” I said.

            “Don’t tell Fatso who I really am. I was a comedian back in the United States. Then I got elected to the Senate from Minnesota. And, much to my regret,” he said, stopping to speak to me directly, “I stopped being funny. I regret that. The Senate was so fucked up that they really needed a comedian. Once the Republicans took over, the Senate was so dysfunctional that it would have been a comedy in itself if it weren’t so pathetic. But wait till you see this!” He continued leading me.

            He opened a little panel so that we could see The Assembly of God without being seen. About a hundred souls who had been white men were assembled in an amphitheatre. Communion was being served. Barbecue instead of bread, sauce instead of wine.

            “I thought all these jokers were out shooting and being shot by Jihadists,” I said.

            “They take turns. They come here every seventh day, or what would be every seventh day if we had days up here. Oh, here He comes.”

            And my eyes beheld God.

            A man who looked a lot like Henry VIII stood on a dais. His hair looked like he had held the blow-dryer in the wrong hand. He wore a New York suit.

            “I love you all!” God yelled. He men cheered loudly. “But I’ll tell you whom I do not love. All of those bleeding-heart liberals!” The men cheered more. “When I first came up here and assumed the role of God, a lot of bleeding-hearts were getting in, right through the gate! Can you believe it!” Some of the men shouted yes, some shouted no. “But we got that straightened out. We built a big wall to keep them out, and made St. Peter obey new orders, ones issued from me! Now the only problem is that Virgin Mary. She keeps trying to sneak people in. Just like those women who sneaked people into America from Mexico. Come to think of it, Mary looks sort of Mexican or whatever. She must be hysterical. And even though she is a virgin, she must be bleeding out of her whatever.” The men cheered.

            “We have a special guest,” said God. “May I introduce to you Vladimir Putin.” The men cheered. “Now, here is a real leader! He knows how to stand up and get his way! You do what he says, or its polonium for you! He endorsed my presidential bid, you all remember. And red-blooded Americans, such as you all were, appreciated the endorsement of Comrade Putin!” More cheering. Putin gave a lippy smile, waved, and sat back down.

            “And now, for entertainment, we have the one and only graduate of My University. Let’s hear it for Supply-Side Jesus!”

            A man dressed in a jester’s costume jumped up on the dais.

            “There’s Jesus!” I said. “I thought Harry said he was second to God.”

            “This isn’t really Jesus,” said Al. “This is just a comedian. And not a good one. I could do better.”

            “Greetings, everyone! I just flew in from Jerusalem and my arms are tired!” The men cheered. “And, being Jesus, even though I flew, my robe was not the least bit sullied or ruffled. And what a robe! I paid handsomely for it! Because of the money I paid for this robe, ten craftsmen were able to feed their families! And because of my money, I was able to hire a pedicurist too.” He stuck out his sandaled foot. “Wouldn’t you like to kiss these little piggies? The pedicurist used to be a prostitute, but now she is living up to her full potential as a woman!”

            “Outrageous,” I said. “But kind of funny.”

            “Well, he should be. Most of what he is saying he plagiarized from one of my books.”

            Supply Side Jesus continued. “Back when bleeding hearts used to get in here, one of them asked me whether I should feed the lepers. But that would just make them lazy! And maybe I should heal the lepers? But no! If I just healed them, there would be no incentive to avoid leprosy!”

            “I think I’ve seen enough,” I told Al.

            “No, you haven’t,” he answered.

            Just as Supply Side Jesus was saying that wealth was a sign of God’s favor, I said, “Oh, but I have. I’m about to…can people vomit in Heaven?”

            “You’ve seen enough here,” said Al, closing the panel. “But there is someone you should see.” He led me back down the hall. Just as we were leaving the crowd behind, I heard God say, “I love you because you first loved me.” We turned into a dungeon corridor.

{end of email}

Tune in next time to find out whom our Man in Hell saw in the dungeon!