Asking Forgiveness

I hadn’t heard the phone chime because there had been some sort of ruckus out in the street and I had put on my noise-canceling headphones so I could get some sleep. It didn’t sound like the end of the world or anything. It was done via text for Christ’s sake. There was a new message on my phone when I woke up. It was from god, with a small “g.” That’s how they signed it. It said, “Your judgment is complete. Your status has been confirmed as LB – Left Behind. You do not qualify for transfer to Kingdom of Heaven (KH).”

I figured one of my techie friends with a sardonic sense of humor had sent it. The most likely suspect was Billy, so I called him up.

“Jason?” he answered warily. “Is this revenge for that aged photo thing I did to you? If it is, just stop. I’m asking forgiveness. I don’t even know how you’re doing this, but stop, bro.”

“Really?” I said. “I was calling to ask you the same thing. I mean, who else would send me a text message from God saying that I had been left behind.”

“No, brah. That’s what you’ve been sending to me.”

“There’s something weird going on. I’m gonna take a look.”

I looked out the window onto the street and saw that some cars had smashed into parked vehicles. Around each minor collision site, a small group of people gathered, pointing and shrugging. Some of them pointed at their cell phones.

I looked for my mean neighbor. Her car was in the driveway, but I could hear her cat, Colonel Whiskers, screeching inside. I broke down the door and saw her clothes dropped casually on the floor. I retrieved her cell phone from the floor. This was her most recent text message:

“Your judgment is complete: Your status has been confirmed as KH – Kingdom of Heaven.”

I lived life on Earth a little bit happier than the rest of those who had been left behind because I now had Mr. Whiskers in my life. Billions of people went missing, more than twenty percent of the population. There were no bodies to bury and even the grief was short-lived. There was plenty of food for those who were hungry. Nobody complained about using properties which were vacated by rapture to be used to shelter those who needed it. We had teachers, artisans, farmers, builders, and healers among us. Most of those who had ascended to the Kingdom of Heaven were great men and women: politicians, bankers, real-estate magnates, CEOs and hedge fund managers. I wondered what had become of them and one night was answered in a dream.

All of them, men and women alike, were wearing orange jumpsuits emblazoned with the KH logo. They were being unloaded from a tightly-packed shipping container by angels who wore helmets and carried billy clubs. One yelled, “Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven penal colony. Reap what you have sown!”