Janus

No one told me, putting a folk in a toaster was a really bad idea. Fatal, so it would appear. As I approach the gates of heaven, I wonder how I could have been so stupid. The folded over waffle, in hindsight was not worth dying for.

I'm mentally berating myself when my thoughts are interrupted by a man sporting a bright white toga.

It’s definitely not saint Peter. There’s no wings and nothing very angelic about him. He holds a key in one hand and a staff in the other, looking stern. He's a giant of a man compared to me. The white full beard does nothing to hide his strong angular jaw line.

I’d always wondered who was right, which religion or ideology was closest to the truth. Looks like it was the Romans. Who’d have thought?

As he turns his head to one side, it reveals another, also not amused, face on the back. I recognise Janus from my classic lessons. He's the keeper of doorways. One face looking into the future and the other into the past. He's how January got its name.

I smile politely at him. He doesn’t smile back. I get the feeling this isn’t his first rodeo. He asks the soul in front of me a question and listens intently to the answer. Slowly, turning his whole body around, he reveals the the face on the back of his head. The ‘Past’ Janus is not happy as he towers over the soul. He bangs his mighty staff twice. The soul drops to his knees and starts pleading, but it looks like the big man has made his decision. A hole appears in the cloud floor underneath its feet. Giving a little squeak, the soul falls through the trapdoor. The sound of his screams becoming more distant as he descends. Janus turns back to face me.

I don’t wait for him to ask the question but point off into the distance and shout. “What the bloody hell is THAT!”

He turns in the direction I indicated, and in that split second I stand shoulder to shoulder with him and mimic his moves. We partake in this strange dance like a pair of bad ballroom dancers. He leads as I anticipate his next move, his one face always looking straight ahead and the other directly behind. I'm careful to stand shoulder to shoulder with the giant like we're a pair of Irish dancers on St Patrick's day until he turns his whole body to look behind him.

That’s when I sneak into Heaven.

I almost feel bad for him as he lumbers from side to side in confusion. I can’t believe it actually worked! He soon forgets I was ever there and continues with his line of endless souls awaiting judgment.

As I sit on a cloud and sip my ambrosia, flexing my newly acquired soft white wings, I realise there're valuable lessons to be learnt here. First, 'Run away' is a totally viable option, and second, the problem with always looking into the past or the future is that your blind spot is the present.