*Ye there, Big Man?*

OK, Big Man. Ye there? C’n ye hear me?

Crivvens! I’m talkin’ to God, noo. Is this whit it’s come tae?

No just bendin’ his ear, but waitin’ for a reply.

Nae wunner the wife says I’m awa’ wi’ the fairies.

Where was I? Aye, that’s it. See, Big Man. I’ve loads o’ questions to ask Ye.

Like, where dae I go frae here? Aye, I ken, intae the box, six feet unner.

So, I’m headin’ for final orders. Time, gentlemen, please. No more bevvy. Ma tea’s oot.

I huv tae accept that. The quacks’ve laid it oan the line. Ma ba’s up oan the slates.

But. No, I’m just sayin’. Is that it? The end, of everything. Or, is there some life beyond?

I’ve nivver really thought about this before. Could I be a saint, a spirit, an angel? A ghost?

Dae I want to be? Would You an’ them up there want me to be wan o’ youse?  Don’t laugh.

I suppose I huv to be judged, put through the ringer in some way. Ye canny just let any

chancer, snake dancer, sashay through the Pearly Gates and take his place anent Ye.

Can Ye?  No way! I could be an assassin. An emissary from the place down below,

blaggin’ ma way intae Paradise so as tae knock Ye aff, Big Man. That would nivver do,

would it?

C’mon. Gies a break. I’m fadin’. Runnin’ oot o’ steam. Headin’ your way. Just tell me this.

Ma dug. Big black slobbery labrador. Name o’ Dutch. Shot the craw last year. If we could

be thegither again, well, that would be hunky dory. Is that possible?  Can four-legged

friends enter the Kingdom of Heaven? Tell me, Big Man. Is Dutch up there, with You, in the

clouds?

“Sinner, your dog lived a blameless life. He lies at my feet.”

No! The Big Man’s answerin’ me. Ya dancer!

So, can we be a team again?

Pause.

“fraid not. The Black Mark App tells me you have unshriven sins and must spend time in

Purgatory pending re-evaluation. Maybe at some future point.”

Turn up for the books. One last desperate throw of the dice.

Do You really exist, Big Man, or is this just a ridiculous dream?

Disdainful, mocking laughter cut through the dramatic organ chords as I felt myself falling,

falling, plunging into the dry heat of my penitential purgation.