Afterlife

What happened? I just died; now I’m in the afterlife. Everything is red and sultry. Look over there: David Hume is talking to some Druids. Now I meet Dante and Saint Augustine. We’re surrounded by flames and mist. Everyone’s laboring hard, hauling enormous boulders. Why the heck is it so gol darn warm? I see Nietzsche and some other philologists. That’s strange: the only people who aren’t here are those who trusted God. Everyone’s sweating, due to the climate. Now a guy approaches holding a butcher’s knife and tells us to get to work.

The afterlife is enjoyable. Everything moves five times faster than before. All you do is drink booze all day, and everything else turns out fine. All the decor is pink and gold. The only problem is that the air has a funny scent. The ways of change here are exceptional: cats become dogs, dogs become bats, and bats become cats. I now see Wittgenstein gadflying around with Socrates. I greet them and ask: “Where are Descartes and Pascal?” They invite me to throw some harpoons at a whale-shaped target.