After I moved to Heaven I had high hopes.

After I moved to Heaven I had high hopes. Well, let me tell you that even in death, the saying "Life sucks, don't be fooled by location changes" still applies.

Surely you're familiar with Hell's nine circles, each one punishing the denisens of the deep with appropriate degree of suffering. In heaven there are twelve stories of bliss. I

'm stuck on an elevator between two floors, trapped in a bliss purgatory. But the worst thing about heaven is the culture. Have you ever met a harp player who isn't insufferable?

The elevator doors opened & I had to take a flying leap down to reach purgatory. "Gonna be sorry!" the harpist shrieked as the doors slid shut with a zing. I fell hard, but at leas

thought, if anything, Purgatory would have corridors of gray glass, but no, they just had to go and make it blue. I reach out a finger to touch the glass panelling, when suddenly

I translucent haze brushed past my face. "Don't touch the glass, you'll leave smudges." How was I to know Purgatory had hall monitors? I was ushered to wait in line with the rest

of loser souls. In Purgatory they have these waiting rooms with the most god awful magazines. Knitting Weekly, Reader's Digest. All of them are way old too. But that's just the

tip of the iceberg. Playboy, Penthouse...even Hustler...the women are now in their 70s...and they parade around naked with their flabby skin and...well, you get the picture.

Mr Arthur reclined back in his office chair, and realized the consequences of his actions. He then pressed the big red button. You know, the one that makes everything go Boom. End.