Heavenly Names

“Welcome to Heaven!” The young man beamed at me, his smile only slightly less bright than his blindingly colourful coat.

“Thank you,” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. After an indeterminate eon spent in Purgatory, (the wait list is awful) I was finally getting out. Just an hour ago, a beautiful woman had tapped me on the shoulder and informed me I had passed the test of humility and would be admitted to Heaven immediately. Which was surprising, because as far as I knew, there had been no test. After I died (a mishap with a vending machine—sooo embarrassing, and no, I don’t want to talk about it), I’d opened my eyes to find myself on a bench in a dull, beige waiting room. I’d been there ever since. But I was hardly going to question my good luck!

“My name is Archie Rainbow,” the man continued. “And this is Max Storm,” he said, gesturing to a chiseled man who looked liked he’d stepped off the set of a James Bond film.

I stared. “Are those your real names?”

“Everyone is assigned a new name,” he said, beaming. “It will be a perfect reflection of your truest essence, chosen specially by our Creative Department.”

And just like that, I was beaming too. Now we were talking! Finally, people would take notice and see past my bluff, balding (and somewhat portly) exterior. Finally, I would be recognized as the great man I was inside. I could imagine it now—Zachariah Arrow for my sharp intellect, or maybe Alexander Wit for my sense of humour and gift for puns.

“If you could please sign here,” Rainbow said, pointing. “Perfect! And here’s your new name!” He handed me an envelope.

Moving away from the small line of people, I tore it open excitedly.

“Oliver… Pluff?”

That couldn’t be right. Oliver Pluff was a brand of tea. Mother had been fond of it. I hurried back to Rainbow, but before I could speak, cries of dismay and outrage rang out all around us.

“Is this a joke?” said a woman to my left, staring at her envelope. “Tee Tetley?”

“Maxwell House?!”

“Taylor Harrogate?”

“TIM HORTONS???”

I looked down at my envelope. Suddenly, Oliver Pluff didn’t seem so bad.

A middle-aged woman dressed in running clothes looked at me, then hurriedly opened her envelope. She grimaced and flipped the card around.

Star Bucks.

I snorted before I could stop myself and attempted to cover it with a cough.

“Oh dear,” Rainbow said, exchanging glances with Max Storm before picking up a small red phone off his desk. After a series of mmm-hmm’s and a curt ‘I see’ he put the phone down and smiled at our little group apologetically.

“Can I have your attention, please, everyone? The Creative Department has,” he paused, twisting his fingers, “Well, they’ve gone on strike. It seems there has been some issue with the supply of caffeinated substances, hence the…” he trailed off, waving at the torn envelopes we all held.

The room exploded with sound. Several people were shouting angrily, gesticulating wildly to Max Storm, who argued back thunderously. (Ha—you knew it was coming.) Several more were crying or looking depressed, but the woman in the running clothes (Star Bucks) was doubled over laughing, wiping tears from her eyes.

I sighed and shuffled over to Rainbow, who had finally managed to extricate himself from a teenage girl who had dissolved into tears and was now sitting on the floor.

“This is the humility test, isn’t it?” I said flatly.

Rainbow met my gaze, a tiny smile appearing as he brought a finger to his lips.

“Am I really going to be Oliver Pluff?”

“You can always refuse,” he said pleasantly. “But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Turning away, he addressed the room again. “If I can have your attention please! Of course, this has been a terrible mistake. For those of you who are content with your new names, you may proceed to elevator six, which will take you straight up to the pearly gates. Those who want alternative names can follow Max downstairs. The complaints department is located in the 9th circle atrium.”

A small crowd immediately formed up around Max, though I was heartened to see several people shrug and head for elevator six.

Next to me, Star Bucks wiped her eyes, lips still twitching with mirth.

“Going up?” I said, offering her my arm. Smiling, she took it.