The Path to Heaven

"Boredom is the atheist version of hell."

"What was that. Iím afraid I didnít hear you?"

"Nothing Mama." She wouldnít understand anyway. Momís a born and bred Baptist. The word atheist sends her to prayer or preachín. Me, Iís just bored. What sane person wouldnít be? Sitín on a wood pew that stinks of tongue oil, listenín to that fat bald minister tellín how we kids today are headed straight to hell. I know good and damn well that Iím already there! Not cuz of my music or danceín either, but cuz Iís bored.

"Can I see the announcements Mama?" The rustle of paper and my whisper rated a curious glance from the woman next to mom. I gives her quick smile and she looks away. Used to be dad sat there where the nosey woman is now. He got to stay home. Always does when he wants to. Not me. I go to hell once a week like it or not. A scan down the schedule shows that we have to hymns and the benediction left. About20 minutes. If lard ass moves it 15.

"Jimmy, nice to see you and your Ma here today. And, Misses Klein youíre looking lovely."

"Thank you Reverend Wells. That was a fine sermon. I wish Mr. Klein was feelín well enough to have been here."

Fatso the names Jeremy, and dadís not sick. Maybe a hangover, but not sick. HeaÖ Mom just lied so do I get to lie? Fat chance. "Reverend can I ask you a question?"

"Sure son, what is it?"

I ainít your son, "Since Jesus went around turnín water to wine at weddin parties, do you think he was an alcoholic party animal?" Now that sweet smile. There, got Ďem! Big bastardís jaw just fell off. Means a prayer, some preachín and a lickín. But hick, it was worth it.

"Jermey A Klein! You get'ta the car this instance. When your daddy hears Ö I'm sorry about his behavior Reverand. He's been acting strangely as of late."


"Want to tell me your side of it son?"

He always asked that as he shut the door. Man to man. That's how it is between us. Only he decides what is right and what is wrong. "Dad it's like this. I hate go'n to church. It's boring, and that preacher doesn't even know my name."

"That any reason for offending your mother with that cheap shot at the preacher?"

Dad could always do that. Take a persons solid reasoning and turn it into something personal and childish. I had lost before I barely began. "Should I bend over now or wait 'til ya get back with your belt."

"Won't be any whip'n today. You're old enough to be treated like as adult, though you sure don't act like one."

Couldn't decide to laugh or faint," I get off Scott free?"

"Nope, didn't say that. In the adult world the punishment fits the crime. You embarrassed your mother so you deserve to be embarrassed," oh shit, "You're not going to the dance Friday. Nor anywhere else on Friday except to school and this room." My dad, the goddamn lawyer in him never shuts up.

"What the hell. I just asked the man a question." He didn't look back, didn't but pause as he shut the door on the way out. I don't know why he said it but I'll always remember the words, "You smart ass brat. Won't you ever learn?" That's the last thing I heard him say before my sick father was found dead. His car wrapped like a Christmas bow around a light pole.

He was right though. I didnít go to the dance. Had a funeral to go to instead. There was dad resting to mom's left, the preacher at the pulpit, and me in hell two days early.



When I was young I was told knowledge is power. As I grew older I learned I had been lied to. A mule cannot be a pig until it applies its knowledge. Application of knowledge is power. But, this means nothing. Power is in and of itself useless without purpose. If you are given a block of wood it will remain a block so long as you can find no use for it. Power is a block of wood to be carved, stained, burnt, used. But the purpose then seems to have control and be the power that is gained through application of knowledge.

So now we can say, "He who has knowledge and purpose has power."

I was also taught that power means having control. But control over what? Control over others? Thatís nonsense. Ultimately we all die and true absolute control could stop death. This could imply one of two things. First, no one has power. Or second, there are stages or levels of control and thus levels of power. Since we can show some degree of control I will take the second choice which means simply there is no absolute control and thus no absolute power.

Power would now seem to be one who has knowledge, purpose, and some measure of control that defines the level of the power.



Him: If you could be what ever you wanted what would it be?

Me: Consciously dead.

Him: Like comma?

Me: No

Him: Then what do you mean?

Me: I want to see what Dante saw. I want to walk the other side and be able to tell about it. Does that scare you?


Him: Yes, it would scare me if I lived to tell. Do you wish to live to tell?

Me: No, I want to be able to decide.


Him: What?

Me: I said, "I want to be able to decide."


Him: I meant "decide what".

Me: If I like the after death.


Him: What if you donít?

Me: Then I should choose to die again.


Him: [Blanks] [Motion] [Comes to self] What do you think would make you wish to die again.

Me: If I went to a world where everyone is happy. Never yelling, fighting, cursing Ö In this place I would die again. Youíre going to ask why. [Annoyed] Your people always do. [Mad] You canít think for yourselves. [Angry] You tell me ĎWhy?!í" [Calm, but punctuated]


Him: Is it because you can not live without anger?

Me: Thatís NOT an answer. God damn it! Give me an answer! [Lungs bursting]


Him: I can not. You know that I have no concept of fighting, cursing, or hating. [Regret]

Me: I never said hating. How do you know what hating is? For that matter how did you learn the word anger? [Holmes like cross examining]


Him: That will end our discussion. [Excusitory]

Me: I lied you know. [Consoling]


Him: About?

Me: What I want to be?


Him: If you could be what ever you wanted what would it be?

Me: What you are?


Him: What am I?

Me: [Blanks] [A laugh] [Silence] [Sigh]


Him: What am I? [Forcefully]

Me: You donít know do you?


Him: What am I?

Me: Thatís why you wonít let me die!


Him: What am I?

Me: Now, I get to torture you, you bastard!


Him: What am I?

Me: You canít kill me, I canít die. And, Iím not going to tell you .


Him: WHAT AM I ?!!! [Crying Anger and Hatred]