1712. High standards

(Someone asked me, why don’t you write something depressing? I think they were being sarcastic. Anyway, here it is.)

Lachlan had lived an average sort of life. He’d told the odd fib, but it didn’t amount to much. He’d given the occasional dollar to the Salvation Army during their Annual Appeal. He’d paid his taxes. He never once got a ticket for speeding. He’d been worn to a frazzle rearing his kids and driving van-loads of exuberant youths to this game and that, and so on. It was an average sort of life.

Eventually he died. He joined the line at the Pearly Gates.

Saint Peter said, “You lived an average sort of life. The standard here is very high. I’m sorry but you’ve missed out.”

“Oh, dear!” said Lachlan. “So I’m going to Hell?”

“No,” said Saint Peter, “as a consolation prize we’re sending you into oblivion.”

729. The best of friends

Tom and Seamus had been best friends for many, many years. Their families always took their vacation together at the lake. They were forever taking the mickey out of each other; pulling each other’s leg; having each other on…

Then one day, quite separately one from another, Tom and Seamus dropped dead.

The first thing they said upon arriving in the nether world was, “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I suppose we’d better find the pearly gates and see what the story is,” said Tom.

And there they were: the gates! Saint Peter was sitting at his desk looking rather bored.

“So,” said Saint Peter to Seamus, “I haven’t had time to check. What’s Tom been like? Has he been good?”

“He’s been the paradigm of goodness,” said Seamus. “Always kind. Integrity is what he has. If he says it, then it’s true.”

“And you,” said Saint Peter to Tom, “What’s Seamus been like?”

“The biggest bastard on God’s earth,” joked Tom. “I’d chuck him into hell if I was you.”

Unfortunately, Peter believed both.

Listen the story being read HERE!

677. Thora’s questionnaire

Thora was the epitome of both meddlesomeness and overbearingness. She was therefore rather taken aback, when she died and arrived at Heaven’s Pearly Gates, to be made to wait in line. She jumped the queue little by little and ended up at the front quicker than Saint Peter had originally intended.

Thora was further aghast. No, she couldn’t go straight through. Would she mind sitting over at that side table there and filling out a questionnaire?

“Of course I would mind,” said Thora. “A questionnaire?”

“Do it!” said Saint Peter.

Question One: List five people on earth who should be the next to die. State why.

“An excellent question,” thought Thora. “There’s Ena Bisset; she had that affair with the mechanic last week when she was getting an oil change for her car. Then there’s Tania Schonberger; she drinks far far too much and hides her gin bottles under the bed. And there’s Sharon de Silva; she…”

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” called Thora to Saint Peter. “Why do I have to make this list? Haven’t you been watching what goes on down there?”

Thora stood. She strode over.

“Step aside,” she said to Saint Peter. “You’ve been at it two thousand years and need a break. Okay, hurry up you lazy people, we have to get rid of this queue.”

Thora pushed some people through and rejected others. She worked tirelessly all day. She was in her element. Not once did she have to consult the notes Saint Peter had left. She knew everyone’s business by heart.

So if you happen to have the opportunity in the not-too-distant future of “passing through”, don’t be surprised to see Thora in charge.