I'll be going backwards here and blogging some pictures of St. Peter's Pearly Gates first, partially because I already blogged a picture of me on a rock near the gates. Klund pointed out that the gates aren't really in the middle of a swamp, but Mrs. Klund pointed out that they are rusty, and that annoys some of the locals.
Here's my beautiful family. Dead after an exhausting night of Wii that ended in multiple coronaries. Well...maybe Eryn's problem was falling off the rope ladder or being scared by the youngest Klund's spooky faces as she slept in the top bunk. It's difficult to determine the exact causes because we've moved beyond the need for physical bodies. But not walking sticks. I think even Dante and Virgil used walking sticks in Purgatorio.
Unfortunately, Heaven doesn't have one of those automatic cameras, like on the roller coasters at the Mall of America, so we had to take turns taking pictures.
OH NO! What's this! Heaven is locked to us. Sinners! We're so bad St. Peter doesn't even come out to deny us himself, he just threw a chain on the gates and went out for breakfast. I can only assume I'm in trouble for vanity, given that last photo of me on the rock. Eryn seems too young to have sinned so grievously, but perhaps excessive candy consumption is on the new short list. We all know Pooteewheet's sin of choice. Don't we?
Exiled from Heaven, we traversed the fiery rocks of Hell. I know. Hell looks a lot more fun than one would suspect, and the rocks much less fiery. And that bridge in the background is an upgrade, because Charon was about due for retirement, which really eliminates some of the terror of boating over a river full of lost souls. But times change. Only moments later all those trees were on fire. They can only light them up for a few minutes each day. Oil prices being over $100 a barrel and all.
Remember how Jesus came down to Hell, gave the place a good tossing, and released a number of questionable, borderline sinners? Bet you didn't know he does it in a Mustang convertible. I believe Kyle could pull this off in his Mustang, now that he's got turn of the (first) century hair. We didn't see Satan's Diablo around. I suspect he was at the St. Peter coop making sandwiches.
Yep. Jesus gives you a ride in his Mustang, and you're in. No questions asked. Here's the view from inside Heaven after he dropped us off. He did make us chip in for gas. Don't think you can just walk around the outside of the gates. Mystical forces constrain the unworthy. Yea, they are cast out and forced to visit Satan at the coop and eat his infernal sandwiches, or to work at Hell's woolery, conveniently located across the street. Hope you're all good and I'll see you soon.
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