WHERE THE .... AM I?

The first thing I saw was a vast expanse of blue sky. The second was a face leaning over me.

“You all right, son?” said a deep resonant voice. It belonged to an old man with bushy white eyebrows and long flowing beard to match. His snowy hair curled gently over his brow and his deep blue eyes were full of concern.

“Where am I?” I cliché’d as I tried to sit up.

“Now just you take it easy,” he said, sitting down beside me.

“There’s no good way to tell you this, my son,” he continued, “But I’m afraid you’re dead.”

“What!” I shouted, “How?”

“A hit and run driver. They found you too late to help.” He shook his head sadly then brightened up. “Well, never mind all that, you’ll soon settle in. I’ll get someone to take you to the Quartermaster to get you kitted out.”

“Kitted out?” I queried.

“I think some clothes would help, don’t you?” he chuckled, and beckoned to an onlooker to take me to the stores, where I was issued with a long white robe and a harp.

A harp!

“But I can’t…” I began.
”You will,” grinned the QM and dismissed me.

That was ages ago, and I do mean ages.

They have this arrangement of soft fluffy cushions dotted about and on each sits a person ‘playing’ the harp. All you can hear is the tinkley, tinkley, plunk of miss-plucked strings. All day – every day.

I put in for a trumpet but they said they were only for the upper echelons.

“A clarinet, then?” I pleaded. “I’ve always wanted to learn clarinet.”

“No”, they said. “It’s a harp and lump it”.

Well, after another aeon I’d really had enough. I went to see some bloke called Peter, the second in command.

“Look”, I said. “I want a transfer. I know I’m supposed to be overjoyed to be here, but I can’t bear the boredom anymore. I want to move to The Other Place.

“What other place?”

“You know,” I hissed “Hell.”

Peter looked puzzled. “But this is Hell.”

I stared at him. “No”, I said, “It can’t be. There’s all those cloud things and the harps…”

“Oh, you people make me sick. Believe anything if you’re told often enough. Nah, this is definitely Hell.”

“But the Old Man”, I protested, “What about him? Surely he’s…?”

“You never thought he was…?” He shouted with laughter. “Oh, that’s priceless! Yeah, he’s ‘Old’ alright, Old Nick!” and he walked away, still giggling.