Dead Man Falling

John Belushi, wasted -

collapsed to the ground

which gave way

straight away

into a cliff

overlooking the sea, and the rocks.

He caught a vine

and another

clinging tightly

and inching his way up

for dear life

not even realizing

he was already dead.

Hauling himself up

and staggering on the top

and came face to face

with a smiling woman

with twelve arms.

“Well, what do we have here?”

She asked.

Belushi shifted uncomfortably.

"Well Ma’am I –“

He was interrupted –

“I am Goddess Yeshu.”

“I’m agnostic”

He replied

Goddess Yeshu laughed,

and smiled.

“Well congratulations John.”

She said,

“Now you know.”

“So”, she continued,

“You’re not a Yeshuini?”

“I don’t even know what that is lady.”

John said,

peering over her shoulder

and past all those waving arms

to see verdant plains

and forests;

azure lakes and rivers,

a village full of happy people.

“So,” asked John

“is there a bar here?”

Yeshua laughed again

“Oh John,

it seems you’ve taken a wrong turn.

We have plenty of ganja here

but no bar.”

Belushi thought for a moment

and said, “Dang, lady

if they all looked like you, and sure,

I ain’t averse to a smoke, but shoot –

no bar does not make for a happy afterlife for John.”

Yeshua laughed again, in that enchanting way

and laid her top two arms

on John’s shoulders

and pulled him to her

for a short, sweet kiss.

Then she turned him around

and with the other ten arms

propelled him off the precipice

of what was a cliff -

but was now a cloud –

these things can happen. honest.

“Bye John, nice to meet you. Good luck!”

She called as he plummeted.

Seconds later, she wondered

Huh, maybe I should have told him

about the rivers of wine

and whisky, and whatnot. Oh well…

She shrugged six of her shoulders and went back

to the business of being a Goddess.

John meanwhile was plummeting

and plummeting

with no idea of his ultimate destination

so he was doing a cartoony yell, as he fell

(like you hear in cartoons).

Eventually he passed out

and eventually

he woke up

in what seemed to be

some kind of soft, milky

egg shaped space.

It seemed a bit dim

until he realized

he still had his shades on.

So he pulled them down

and looked around

at the milky haze

and was none the wiser

as to where the hell he was now.

“Where the hell am I now?” He asked aloud.

And even as he said it

he wondered how he’d done it

breathing underwater as he was.

And a voice said

“We try not to use that word here.”

“What, now?” He asked.

“No, the H word.”

Said the voice

sounding slightly exasperated.

“Okay,” said John

“So I ask again, where am I?”

“You’re in between, John.”

“in between what? Heaven and h-“

“I told you,” the voice interrupted, peevishly

we don’t use the h word here.”

“Which one?”

“Either one!” The voice snapped.

“Okay, okay.” Said John.

“So what am I stuck in between then?”

“Well,” the voice softened,

“There’s an upstairs,”

John looked up, and sure enough

as the milky mist cleared

there was a golden staircase

leading up to a palace

with white stone pillars,

a great golden glow behind

and a scent of green trees and cool water beyond.

All class, like Caesar’s Palace in Vegas.

“Looks pretty nice.” Said John.

“It sure is,” replied the voice,

“plenty of nice people,

nice spots to hang out,

swimming pools,

a giant bouncy castle even.”

“Wonderful.” Said Belushi.

“Is there a bar?”

“Oh sure, there’s a bar.”

The voice replied.

Great people serving – angels, you’d call them even.

Great band,

any cocktails, beer, bar snacks, whatever you want.

Just one thing, John...”

John waited expectantly.

“You can’t get drunk.”

“Well that’s a he – ug, that’s a thing.” Said John.

“Yep.” Said the voice

“You can have anything you like there,

delicious food and drinks,

but you’ll never get drunk or high.”

“Hm.”

John looked down.

It was a long way down

and looked like a splodge of red and black from there.

“So what’s down there?” He asked.

“Do they got a bar?”

(John was feeling pretty thirsty by now)

“Downstairs?” The voice responded

“Oh sure, they got a bar down there.

Everything laid on -

drinks, drugs, ribs

(don’t ask me what kind),

girls, karaoke, whatever.

No bouncy castle though, I don’t think.”

“Ooohkaaay…” Said John slowly

“What’s the catch?

Do I get poked with pitchforks every day?

Is the music terrible?”

“Nope. No pitchforks John.” Said the voice.

“But this is the deal.”

“Ha.” Belushi grunted cynically.

“Hear me out now.” Said the voice.

“You’ve been pretty bad

but not a total asshole all your life.

You’ve entertained a lot of people

and made them happy.

That’s worth something.

A lot in fact.

So I’m giving you a choice:

you can come upstairs

where you can live a clean life

with love, and laughter

and new things to do

like new comedy routines, maybe, whatever.

Did I mention the bouncy castle?”

Belushi rolled his eyes.

“Only thing is, you’ll have to hang around here for a while

maybe five years or so -

just to reflect on what a jerk you’ve been

before coming on up.”

Oh Goddam!.” Said John, before thinking.

“Hey! Cut that out!” Said the voice sharply.

“Yeah, sorry.” Said John sheepishly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too” said the voice

“but I’m judgemental, it’s my job

It’s what I do.

So anyway, upstairs, nice stuff etcetera

but you gotta wait.

Other option –

you can go straight downstairs.

No waiting, just straight to the action.

And you can get as wasted as you want

but remember, John -

that’s forever.

Even if you OD again,

you’ll be back the next day

repeating the same old party,

over and over.

Your call, John. Think about it”

Belushi took about one hot minute

before jerking his thumb downwards

and saying

“Turn me loose, man.”

The voice sighed, and said

“Okay John. All the best.”

And the milky cocoon melted away

and Belushi was falling again.

He plummeted

and plummeted

for what seemed like about five years

(this god had an ironic

if not downright mean sense of humour).

Anyway, he let out the same cartoony yell

as he fell

all the way to hell.

And eventually

he landed with a thud

amidst the dirt, the pigs

and the mud.

(there were chickens too)

Belushi took a minute

to haul himself to his feet

and start dusting himself off

and come face to face

with the Devil.

He was a pretty stereotypical Devil:

red skin, horns, a tail

cloven hooves

and a big wide grin as he said

“Heya John! Welcome!

Been expecting you!”

As he clapped him on the shoulder.

“Bet you’re thirsty, huh?”

Belushi was picking bits of chickenshit off his suit

his throat was so dry

and it was so hot

he could barely croak out

“Yeah.”

“So what brings you down, John?”

John was still struggling to speak

but while fishing for his sunglasses and hat, in the dirt

he muttered “The state of modern music.”

He put them on, stood up, swallowed

and also managed to say

“I’m on a mission from God.”

The Devil’s grin stretched even wider

and he laughed like hell

(as you’d expect).

“Come on!” As he took John’s arm

“Let’s get you a mojito!”

“Prefer a highball.” Belushi mumbled

Satan laughed again. “Highball it is!” and clicked his fingers.

(he was a pretty jovial guy for a fallen angel,

didn’t seem bitter at all)

Let’s find you a seat.”

And he led him into an immense beer hall

all red and black

sawdust on the floor, catching fire here and there

half the people who ever lived must have been there.

Just at the entrance

the Devil paused, holding John’s arm

“Almost forgot.” He said, a little more seriously

and seemingly from out of nowhere

he produced a shiny new handgun

which he handed to Belushi.

“You’ll probably need this sooner or later.”

He said

“There are a lot of pretty bad people down here

as you might expect.

So what the hell, everybody gets one.”

John put the pistol

in his jacket pocket and nodded.

The Devil led him to a bar stool

where he took a seat

between Bukowski and Burroughs

nodding at them both

while a buxom, red skinned demoness

put a highball in front of him

with a big welcoming smile.

John took a long draught

draining the glass

which he set back on the bar

to have it immediately replaced by another.

He took a sip this time

his thirst momentarily assuaged

let out a refreshed “Aaaah”

(best damned highball he’d ever had)

and said “Well, I guess hell ain’t so bad.”

Bukowski just grunted, while Burroughs chuckled.

“For the most part’” he drawled.

“Just wait until the karaoke starts.”

He gestured toward the massive stage

with tacky lighting and a shitty PA

and while working with a spoon and a lighter

he muttered, “Michael Jackson’ll be here any damn minute.”

“Jackson?” Asked Belushi. “What’s he in for?”

Burroughs was busying himself

with a tourniquet and syringe

so Bukowski answered:

“Being Bad. With boys.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” Said John

which raised a laugh.

“John, you gotta remember,”

Said Burroughs as he slumped on the bar, dreamily

“some of us are here by choice

And some of us, well…”

He started dozing.

Bukowski took it up again

“You can have anything you want here John.

You can overdose twenty times a day

you can get as much pussy as you want.”

he gestured toward the line of demonesses

smiling invitingly

“and drink what you want

but this is it, man.

Booze, drugs, pussy and Michael fucking Jackson.

You might find yourself in a dark corner sometimes

crying and wanking.

You might try and kill yourself even,

but you know that won’t work.”

Bukowski returned to his whisky in silence.

Fights were breaking out here and there

so he turned on his stool to watch.

After mulling that over for a minute, John asked

“So when he gets up there,

“does nobody want to shut him down?”

“Oh sure.” Said Bukowski.

“Someone usually shoots him.

But he always comes back –

ah crap, here he comes now.”

John grimaced

and took his pistol from his pocket

and laid it on the bar in front of him

and waited. For eternity.