Storytime:
The Atheist’s Trip to Heaven
By Cupideros, © 09.07, 2024
One day a man died. He was clearly an atheist and wore, no shoes, white pants, and also a white T-shirt declaring: “I am an Atheist” in bold red letters.
The man walked in his bare feet. He found himself in a foggy hallway in Heaven, which was a neutral space not designated for any specific Heaven. No bodily needs plagued him. He was neither hungry nor thirsty. But he wondered, “For how long did he stroll this foggy hallway?” He could not see further than his hands, but he kept walking and ambling forward. He considered himself a very smart fellow, clever in his rhetoric and able to turn a losing debate into a winning one; although, he sacrificed the truth often to win his debates. Money was money, and on Earth that was the currency of life. Surely, he could talk himself out of this foggy situation and into a better, clearer one! Finally, the fog before his hands gave way to a series of white doors all lined up in a row!
Each door had a religion’s name in bold on the front. Some of the religions the man recognized, but others were long, long, gone religions like the Ancient Egyptian Religion and so forth. High up, three-quarters of a way up, was a little small two-inch-by-two-inch square peep-hole door. Someone could open and look out and talk to anyone at their door. He kept walking; some of the religious scripts were unreadable to him. “I’ve studied a lot of religions in my day. I’ll find one I recognize.”
So, the Atheist man was now happy. He was making progress. He was not aimlessly wondering around in the fog, clueless and purposeless. He had a purpose and he had a goal. Get into one of the religions!
He walked up to one ancient religion’s door. The Atheist didn’t care at this point; he just wanted to be out of the blank, empty, foggy hallway. He wanted to be around people again.
“I’d like to come in,” said the Atheist man, after he knocked on the religion’s door.
It had taken a while, because no one had come to that religion in a long, long time. The man who answered the door said, “How is this possible?”
“What do you mean,” replied the Atheist?
“How is it possible you can come inside when this is a religion that has a God and a Goddess, which you clearly do not want to follow?
“Oh, this T-shirt.” The Atheist man laughed. He took, or rather tried to take off, the “I am an Atheist” T-shirt.
“No. No,” replied the man at the two-inch-by-two-inch peep-hole square. “You are what you are. Your T-shirt represents: The truth of your belief up here.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” professed the Atheist, still struggling to remove his T-shirt in various ways. He tried lifting it from the collar like a man does. Then he even tried to lift off his “I am an Atheist” T-shirt from the bottom hem like a woman.
“It’s too late to change your mind,” said the man in the peep hole. “Try another religion’s door. Goodbye.”
“Wait! Wait,” cried the Atheist.
The click of the square peep-hold closing sounded final.
The Atheist shrugged.
Silence.
So, the Atheist man walked onward down the long hallway. It was better to stay on a straight line since that’s how he found the first religion’s white door. In the meanwhile, he kept trying to remove his T-shirt with the letters in red and bold, “I Am an Atheist!”
He soon reached another white door. He knocked.
A woman came to the two-inch-by-two-inch peep hole. “What do you want?”
“Entrance.”
The woman went away for ten seconds. ‘You’ve never prayed to our Goddess and God before. We don’t trust you.”
“I am a smart guy. I mean, I am an intelligent fellow. I would be an asset to your religion.”
“You’re T-shirt tells the truth. Be gone.” She closed the square peep hole.
“I’m not as bad as it seems—”
Silence.
Again, the Atheist man struggled with his white T-shirt, trying to remove it by pulling at the short sleeves. “Why did I wear this?”
He walked for fifteen minutes more before reaching another religion’s door: That read Abyssarianism.
“Oh, I know this religion,” said the Atheist man, in a happy tone to himself. He knocked.
“A Black man came to the square peephole.” “How can I help you?”
“I would like to come in,” replied the Atheist in a hopeful tone.
“That’s rather impossible. The time to join Abyssarianism was when you lived on earth. You’re dead now, and your T-shirt declares your true religion.”
“Oh, this thing—” the Atheist man struggled. He laughed an tried again to remove his internal declaration of The Truth—I am an Atheist. “This is a mistake.”
“Look. I’ll give you one test. I’m being very generous here.”
“Go ahead,” answered the Atheist man.
“What is the Truth?” said the Black man behind the two-inch by two-inch peep hole.
The Atheist had this argument for years and years with various people, committees, groups, and religions. He was quite famous in his time, but now he is long forgotten. “The Truth. There are many Truths. My own truth,” for example.”
“I never knew you. I never knew anyone who was an Abyssarian and said, My Own Truth, is the Truth. Keep walking. Maybe another religion will accept you.” The Black man closed the peep-hole door.
“No. Listen!” pleaded The Atheist. “I know a lot about Abyssarianism. I know that “There is no Abyssarianism without Resilience.”
The peep-hole opened again. A white redhaired woman looked at the Atheist, “But being resilient in the Truth is the thing, and you don’t know what The Abyssarianism Truth is my fellow. Walk further down,” she closed the peep-hole.
So, the Atheist man kept walking. He came to one religious door after the other and was unable to pass their test. Finally, after weeks of walking, talking, and trying to explain his true internal religion—boldly printed on his white T-shirt, he found a door that said, “Atheist Religion.”
“NOW WE’RE TALKING,” replied the Atheist to himself. He knocked. He knocked again. He knocked a third time, and the door opened. The Atheist saw the green and blue ball of substance spinning in the dark universe with its twinkling white starts. “Nooooooooooooooooooo!” The Atheist yelled.
The Atheist turned into a small falling star of light and fell toward the planet Earth.
***
“Here’s your miracle baby,” answered the nurse.
The brunette woman held her arms out. “Give him to me. I want to see him,” her shaking, exhausted female voice declared.
At first the Atheist felt small and tiny, but he liked the cozy wrap of his new clothes. He opened his eyes and looked at his new mom. She happened to be a drug addict, but she was happy to see him, nevertheless.
“My little Jewish baby boy.” She hugged him close to her. “No—you’re not going to be circumcised. No male blow job for you, little one. You’re going to be a heterosexual male. I insist on it,” said the birth mom.
The heterosexual Abyssarian nurse smiled and said, “We need as many heterosexuals as possible in this crazy world, yes.”
And so, the Atheist found his Heaven. Maybe it wasn’t the Heaven he wanted, but it was the Heaven he qualified for.
—THE END—
