TUTORS DON'T CHANGE
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LE BYE BYE CRUEL WORLD
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I kick the bucket, knock over the pail, shed flesh and bones, and that invisible part of me that keeps living takes off, up a long narrow tunnel, and I emerge at the other end to land smack in the middle of a big bunch of male angels. A third of them are playing cards smoking "Heavena" cigars, another third are practicing take-offs and landings, while the last third are just kinda winging it.
LES TWO BIG CARRIER ANGELS
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I sit in what appears to be a waiting area, pick up a Playangel magazine. But something is bugging me...like, why didn't I land somewhere close to the Pearly Gates, where St-Peter works. Suddenly, two burly angels wearing carrier tags appear next to me. They tell me to get ready, that they'll be flying me to meet St-Peter. During the flight, they warn me to be careful, that St-Peter is in a real grouchy mood. They've given him a new computer, one that works off social security numbers. But they didn't send anyone to train him...and he has to learn it all by himself...from a huge computer handbook.
LE **** STOP
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Suddenly, I feel real hot. We're entering **** territory, I'm told. My two carriers slow down, stop for a chat with Lucifer. Lucifer is quite pleased with his conversion from oil to natural gas. We're ahead of schedule, he proudly announces, puffing on a huge cigar. Then he takes off his sneakers and wiggles his toes at us. He's got five! Had a transplant, he informs us. At the left of Lucifer's desk, I notice a heat control panel, along with a list of residents by job categories.
The control button under "Teachers" is turned right up to "maximum". An extra notch marked "extra hot" has been added to the button under Lawyers. An extra extra notch marked "super hot" has been added to the button under Preachers.
My two carrier angels accept a double hot gin, one-gulp it down, see you later Lucifer, and we're flying again.
LE MEETING OF ST-PETER
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I cough politely. St-Peter painfully looks up from his computer manual, and tells me "not again" with his eyes. I feel guilty for getting there at such a bad time. I offer him a Player's Light. He shakes his head sadly, points to a no-smoking sign. Then he turns on his computer, keys in his password, gets a "down for 5 minutes" message.
He bangs his desk with his left fist. Then he decides to step out the Pearly Gates for a smoke. If my phone rings, he tells me, pick it up and tell 'em I'm in the washroom.
As he's lighting his second Export Plain, I notice the computer screen coming to life. Trying to be helpful, I wave at him and point positively to the screen.
He throws down his cigarette, crushes it with his foot, and comes back. On his face is written "why don't you mind your own business, you bastard".
Pheeeew...at least he didn't tell me to go to ****...yet.
LE ENTRY INTO HEAVEN
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After entering my social insurance number, confirming I'm Denis Borris from Canada, Earth, St-Peter hits a few more keys, bangs his desk, tries again, breathes hard, tries again, gives up holding his head in despair Here we go again...this stupid computer...can't get to your list of sins... and they won't send me any help...got to learn it all by myself...you know, I wish they'd give this job to St-Paul, that lazy bum!
He takes a few seconds to cool down, then looks at me; he decides that I look honest...because he starts to question me.
SP: Did you commit many sins?
ME: Well, a few, you know...but not that many.
SP: Gimme an example.
ME: I used the office photocopier to copy some personal stuff.
SP: Bad boy. Gimme another example.
ME: I pretended I was going to meet a customer but it was really to go outside and have a smoke.
SP: Nothing wrong with that...d'you think you suffered enough to deserve heaven?
ME: Yes...I think so.
SP: Gimme an example.
ME: Well, during a business trip to Toronto, I shared a room with the General Manager.
SP: That's sure rough...anything else?
ME: One day I went to the washroom and sat in the booth next to the Collections Manager.
SP: Stop! That's enough! You poor fella. You certainly deserve heaven. Follow me...we'll find you a place to stay.
LE HEAVENLY CORRIDOR
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He leads me down a long corridor, doors on each side. I see one marked "Teachers". I peek inside: it's empty. Didn't get one yet, explains St-Peter...they're all in ****.
A bit further down, I see one marked "Senior Managers' Secretaries". I peek inside: it's full, like I mean, real full. They all make it here automatically, explains St-Peter...they suffered enough.
A bit further down, I see a door marked "Catholics", followed by one marked "Protestants".
ME: Gee, Mr. Peter, I always thought that Protestants didn't go to heaven.
SP: Well, that's true, but only until recently; you see, we just signed a "Free Trade Agreement" with Lucifer.
LES TUTORS
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Then I see one with a big question mark painted on it.
ME: Mr. Peter, who's in there?
SP: We're not sure...they pretend they're too busy to talk to us.
ME: Gee...what do they do?
SP: They seem to spend every day attending their own meetings. Some of them think they know everything. There's even a couple of them that applied for the Big Boss' job.
ME: Wow! Are you serious? And you don't know who they are?
SP: No idea...except they call themselves "Tutors".
ME: That right? I used to deal with a few of them: they sure don't change!
