Immaculate Droppings

Steven Andrews?

Hello, Steven. Steve? Stevey? Which do you prefer these days?

Steve it is, I’ll update the book right now. Ok, Steve, I know what you’re thinking. I know the look well.

Correct. I am him, that’s the gate, and you’re really here.

Well, one minute you’re crossing the street on a sunny fall morning, thinking about the Bears/Packers game, and then pow! you’re next in line, eating a slice of chocolate cake, looking at my wrinkly, halo-lit face.

Ford Focus.

A man named Doug Chin.

You're actually one of the lucky ones. For some, it’s drawn out. Painful to watch.

You're not alone there. Ideally everyone goes out that way. But where's the fun in that?

What's important is that you’re here, and if your wife makes it, the reunion is going to be glorious.

I did say if.

I don’t have that information available.

Not until the cycle is complete.

Only basic information.

Natural hair color. Blood type. Things like that. I can look up relatives to see what her odds are.

Mhmm. I’ve got her fate tree somewhere around here. I’ll have them make a photocopy for you. But back to you. Welcome! It looks like you’ve had a nice life down there. Did some volunteering I see. Helped strangers with directions. Held doors open. No big trespasses, yada yada. Ok. Great. That’s pretty much it on my end. Wait a minute.

There’s an asterisk.

Let me flip to the back. Give me a second.

Hmm. That’s interesting.

Yeah, well, it says you had a pretty good arm back in your day.

Oh yeah? Well, we’re looking for a quarterback. You interested?

Satan and his army of demons.

Ben Roethlisberger.

They’re both here, but they don’t want to play.

Happy being in love.

Oh, no, with each other of course.

Gay as the day! Wasn't it obvious?

Yeah, sweet, but a shame for the team.

Kurt Warner.

Yeah, still with the gloves. A total dork. No personality. But you. We've been waiting for you.

What? Oh, the turtles! I almost forgot! My goodness, yes, that’s 89 dead sea turtles.

Hundreds of fish and birds too.

That’s a...baby beluga.

Yes, nailed it. A narwhal. I had to look it up this morning. That's a new one for me.

Yours of course.

Everything you’ve ever killed.

Well we love them too, that’s why we put them there. You don’t see a pile of mosquitos, do you?

To illustrate to you the wrath you hath wrought on our perfect marine life.

Cigarette butts, damned fool! Twenty five years of smoking eighteen cigarettes a day, indiscriminately flicked into the streets and waterways and eventual mouths of beloved sea turtles, sea birds, baby beluga, a narwhal, for Christ’s sake! Your mountain of carnage is a testament to your monstrosity. Your callousness. Your complete disregard for innocent life! The curse of indifference to consequence plaguing humankind disturbs my golden bowels.

If it were up to me, I would consider it. But they’re a merciful God.

Probation.

When you ask for and earn forgiveness.

Well, Michael Vick is almost done, you can take over for him.

Dog duty.

Every dog that ever was is up here, collar-less, running free. But they still poop for some reason, even in this sacred cathedral in the sky.

Their idea of a joke.

We're tired of ruining good sandals, so we assign borderline sinners like you to scoop for a year or two. Can you handle a shovel like you can handle the pigskin?

Great. You can start tomorrow. Welcome to the big show, Steve.