There is a theory that souls get to heaven through the exertions of spiritual dachshunds running along a treadmill built from the bones of cosmic giants. The dogs run as fast as their tiny legs will take them, moving the bones in a slow, grinding path around the edge of the universe.

Threads spun from God's sweat dangle from the bottom of the treadmill, scraping imperceptibly across the infinite breadth of creation.

The souls of dying humans are picked up by these threads. They slide up like banana slugs climbing a tree, eventually taking their proper place in the afterworld.

There is a theory that souls get to heaven by being sucked through a tube by God, His lips working like those of a divine vagrant siphoning spiritual gasoline. God covers the tube with His Thumb, and sucks a little bit to get the flow going. Thousands of people — some of whom have been waiting around for decades — are removed from the Earth's ozone layer, and they flow smoothly toward waiting recepticles in the world beyond.

There is a theory that electric-blue diving bats come down in the middle of the night and put listless, expelled human souls into old-fashioned glass Coca-Cola bottles. The bats then tuck the bottles under their wings, and fly through the spiritual void that seperates man from God. Their wings flap. They sing the praises of heaven as they soar majestically through the Infinite. They carry their cargoes with the efficiency and reckless energy of bicycle couriers in a major metropolitan business district. They get the job done.

And then there is a theory that when human beings die, they go nowhere. That with the disintegration of our brains, so goes the disintegration of our concious thought, and the distinct identity that makes us human. The obliteration of our spirit is instant, permanent and complete.

As it turns out, the first theory is correct.

Serious religious scholars would not have a problem with this. Mere facts can almost always be swallowed by the flexible elastic web of codified human knowledge, tradition and speculation.

It's the idiots who would be thrown for a loop.

Those who might worry about the welfare of the dogs should be reassured to know that they are allowed regular breaks, and are fed spiritual ground beef to their hearts' content.

chapter three: sacred ropes ripple upwards >>>