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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Death · #1674180
Flash Fiction story
  Rockin’ it in Heaven


#

                    The table, black marble with a mirror polished surface, is planted firmly on top of a cloud.  Upon inspection, I realize that I too am planted on this cloud.  I nearly shit when this realization washes over me.  From behind me I hear a voice call out, “Belushi you fat fuck!  Get your ass over here!”  What?  Belushi?  Where in the hell am I?
                    “Hey you.  Hey kid.”, I hear behind me.  Turning around, Chris Farley saunters toward me.
                    “Me?”, I ask.
                    “Yeah, you.  Who the hell else?”, Chris says, “You got any coke?”
                    “Coke?”
                    “Yeah.  Coke.  Cocaine.  Crack.  You got any?”, he asks.
                    “Um, no.  Where am I?”
                    He looks at me and laughs that high pitched, lovable laugh we all know.  “You’re in Heaven.  Stupid.”
                    “Heaven?”, I ask.
                    “Yeah,”, he says, “Where’d Belushi go?  We’re supposed to play Hold ‘Em.  If you see him, tell that fat bastard I’m lookin’ for him.  Got it?”
                    “Ahh, yeah.  Sure thing Mr. Farley.”
                    “Mr. Farley!”, he says, “Stupid!”  He walks away, disappearing into the mist. 

         

#


                    Jesus, I got my head together.  I take a seat at the table, and before I can even take another breath Bradley Nowell sits down next to me. 
                    “Hey man.”, he says.  Dammit this keeps getting weirder and weirder.
                    “Um.  What’s up man?”, I ask
                    “You new here?  I ain’t seen ya before.”, he asks.
                    “I guess.  Is this Heaven?”
                    “Sure man.  Whatever you want it to be.  What happened to you?”
                    I’m not sure how to answer this.  The last thing I remember is injecting morphine into my arm.  And now I’m…  Oh shit!
                    “Wait!”, I yell, “I’m in Heaven?  Like, THE HEAVEN?”
                    Brad laughs, “Yep.  You’re dead my man.  Dead as can be.  How’d you do it?” 
Jesus!  What the fuck!  How?  I can’t be dead.  Shit!
                    “Morphine overdose, I guess.”, I tell him.
                    “You guess?”
                    “Yeah man, I guess. That was the last thing I remember doing.  I remember sticking the needle in my-”  Two shocks rock my body.  “What the-”  Two more quake through me. 
                    “Fuck man?  You ok?”, Brad asks.  Two more waves and when I open my eyes I can see light.  Bright light.
                    “Hey!  You ok?”, the voice asks.  I open my eyes and the paramedic standing above me, shaking his head, says, “Ok, you’re alive.  Come on.  We’re going to the hospital.”
         
© Copyright 2010 Ellis Bateman (ellis78 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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