The Waiting Room

Two old men meet up in a different kind of waiting room - George speaks and Fred just thinks.

"I’m telling you, Fred. It’s nothing like I expected at all. Didn’t think I’d see you here, either."

Myself, I can’t say what I expected, George. I’d tell you that too, if I could get a word in.

"Our minister never did quite get it right. All that talk about pearly gates and angels trumpeting. Hogwash, that’s what I say."

You might have something there.

"You don’t seem to be saying much, Fred. I know, I know, it’s a shock when you first arrive. You’re lucky I found you so quickly. When I arrived, nobody came to meet me."

Imagine that. You’ve been gone for years. Or was it months? Time seems to be different here.

"What’s that? Did I see your lips move? No, guess not. You look dazed. I blame it on the thin air up here. Why, when I was a lad . . ."

If I keep my eyes half closed, perhaps he’ll think I’m asleep and stop talking. Ouch, that hurt.

"Wake up, Fred. You can’t sleep here. There is no such thing as sleep in this place. Marvelous thing, really."

No sleep? You did say this is heaven, didn’t you? Or am I mistaken. You don’t suppose I ended up in -

"I know what you’re thinking, Fred. You’re probably wondering exactly which place you ended up in, huh?"

You can read my thoughts? This is scary!

"I wondered too, when I first arrived. You’ll see. The angels will be coming over by and by to take you on up to the next level. Huh. Me, I’d rather just stay here. Chair is comfortable enough."

George, is that really you talking? You like the chair? You’re not grumbling about the chair being too cold or too hard or too -

"Although, it is a little lumpy. Leather’s a tad cold too."

Now there’s the George I know. Oh, look, here comes one of those pearly winged angels. The floor is opening up to let them through. One of them is beckoning to me. Glory! A little closer and I’ll be on my way.

"Humph, here comes another one of those angels. Silly creatures. They keep telling me this is a "waiting room", and that I need to travel on with them. No sirreee. Not this old coot. This chair suits me just fine. No telling what could happen gallivanting around in the air with one of those huge angels. Besides which, I’m allergic to feathers."

Here they come. Jesus is with them. Oh this is wonderful. Take me, yes, I want to come with you!

"Not you too, Fred. What’s that, Mr. Angel, sir? No thank you. I’m perfectly comfortable right where I am. Of course I’m sure. No, I don’t want to come with you this time. Don’t you understand plain English? Fine, you do that. Take him on to heaven if you have to. Can’t see what’s wrong with letting him stay here a while and keep me company. Angel? Fred? Drat. There goes another good friendship. That’s the third one this week. For the love of Pete, you’d think they could have spent a little more on the furniture for their ‘waiting room’. Oh, look! Here comes Henry. C’mon Henry, over here. Sit next to your old buddy, George."

"George? Is that really you? Is this heaven?"

"You always were a little slow, Henry. A few sloshes short of a full pail. Still, you did come to my funeral. Now, like I was telling Fred. . . "