Die

There's a man you meet before you die. He talks to you about all the things upcoming. He points out all the benefits of dying—and there are many. He tells about all the drawbacks of being a dead person—and, yes, there are many of those, too.

This man you meet just before you die is large and friendly, and he is also black. His hair is a little bit black, and a little bit white, and a whole lot gray. There are bumps all over his face, and he says that his name is Gumdrops. And he tells you from this moment on (starting...now!) you my friend will be called the SugarBoy.

And Heaven is a pile of sweets. And Hell is gingerbread everywhere you see. And you can choose to go wherever you want. And you can skip from one to the other, and it doesn't matter at all because God and the Devil have long since buried the hatchet in an old tree stump. No one's punished and no one's favored. It was hard enough just living. It was hard enough just waking up every single day.

We all deserve to take our ease.

There's a man you meet before you die. There's a set of rules this man lays out for you. And, there's no time to blog.