Suicidal in Heaven – A Journey of Choices

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34

XXXIV

As soon as I utter the question I see a phenomenon I’d already seen in hell, the first time was with the welcome sign, then with the counter and the admission line. From out of nowhere, people, a stage and music appear in the landscape that, less than a second ago, didn’t have nothing but desolation.

I take a long time to understand the situation. The comprehension begins with the music, I recognize the beat, the rhythm, the lyrics, it doesn’t take long for me to sing along. The funny thing is that, while alive, I didn’t enjoy bands very much, but if someone saw me right now, they would think I was musicians biggest fan. While I sing, shout, bang my head, I begin to figure out the rest. I’m in the middle of a concert, a huge concert. I stop banging my head and begin to look around, I see an infinite number of people. There are so many heads I don’t see where they begin and where they end, which makes impossible to estimate the number of sinners watching the concert.

I go back to enjoying the music and, when I raise my hand to make the sign of rock ’n roll (index finger and pinky raised up in parallel, with all the others down isn’t the sign of rock?) I see there’s a glass in it. Since I’m dead and have been raped by demons, I’m not worried if there’s a drug in the liquid, I just drink it.

I always hated beer when I was alive, my opinion hasn’t changed after I was dead. But when you’re in hell and dehydrated…

I’d never had much tolerance to alcohol, not that I had done something to more my liquor, add that to the lack of food and liquids in my body and the result was me, completely intoxicated on the second sip of my infernal beer. Even so, I continued to drink, it was only after 10 sips I was able to notice the glass was never empty, so I stopped trying to drink everything. The world was spinning, I jumped twice and fell on all fours. I threw up, nobody near by seemed to mind. I wouldn’t either, vomit is nothing compared do demon’s pus. Things that are disgusting when you’re alive cease to being disgusting when you’re dead. Or almost that.

I threw up a lot, threw up ’till I got almost sober. I drank some beer to erase the taste of vomit in my mouth and began to watch the concert again. I jumped, screamed, sang, began to push people and was pushed… To sum up: I felt happier in a concert in hell than I had ever been while alive. I was too drunk to realize that consciously, but my subconscious didn’t let that realization get away. And I’m thankful for it.

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