Heaven, Day One, Conclusion

8:00pm: I got back to my hotel room 30 minutes ago. That makes it 8:00 if the analog clock by my bedside is correct, but I don’t really trust analog clocks, I should check my cell phone. It never fails me. The man who accused me of receiving a blowjob (an incredibly magical one) from his sister called me around 7:30, he said that within an hour he would be at my hotel room. I don’t know why I didn’t just agree to meet him at the bar, either way we’re destined to meet. At least I think we are. I am in Heaven after all, that must mean something.

There’s still time to leave, but I don’t where I would go, he has my cell phone number. I’m sure he’d find me somehow. Besides, I don’t get mysterious phone calls that often in my life. I should really take advantage of this opportunity. If what he says is true and I did get a blowjob from his sister, and if what the bearded Christ said is true, that she’s Jesus Christ, then that would make him Jesus’s brother. I didn’t know that Jesus had a brother. I don’t read the bible much but I’m pretty sure it’s not in there. Maybe there’s still time to go ask one of my new Christian friends from the seminar. “Hey, does Jesus have a brother? Or what if Jesus was a woman, what would you think?” It’s probably a bad idea. I’ve already done enough to complicate my situation here. What was I thinking? Heaven? A blowjob? I guess I had a choice about the blowjob, but I don’t think I did. I thought it was a dream, but according to the man on the phone there are no dreams in Heaven. That doesn’t make any sense. But then again Heaven really doesn’t make sense either. Especially a Hilton version of Heaven, not that I can be sure that this is the extent of Heaven, there could be other places to stay in Heaven. Maybe there’s a Double Tree Inn, or a Motel 6 for the poor people to stay in. All kinds of people get into Heaven, I’m assuming there’s some class structure here. We’re all civilized beings- I hope.

8:30pm: Sure enough, there’s somebody knocking on my door. I’m assuming it’s the man on the phone but I’ve got to check the peep hole, it could be room service and I know I didn’t order anything and I’d prefer not to be bothered if I’m going to become involved in any sort of endeavor that entails secret phone calls. The man in the peep hole looks like the fucking uni-bomber. His hair looks god awful. When’s the last time this guy showered? You’d think that if he was smart enough to get my number and know when I receive oral sex that he’d be well acquainted with this building, therefore being aware of the fantastic shower situation in the bathrooms. “Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s the guy from the, you know, phone. I was all like we can do stuff for each other and you got a blowjob from my sister or something. Remember?”

I did remember because it was an hour ago so I let the filthy mystery man in. For the purpose of me not having to use quotation marks in this conversation, I am WJ and he is DJ.

WJ: Hello, I’m Woe Jozney, but you already knew that. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the bar. I guess we were going to meet eventually, I’m sorry I was so reluctant to come meet you. It seemed like the right thing to do when you get a mysterious call. Like in the Davinci Code or something. I don’t know. Have you seen the Davinci Code? You know, with Tom Hanks?

DJ: No, I’m afraid not. I don’t have a lot of time to watch movies. When I do I mostly watch my Seinfeld VHS tapes.

WJ: I see. Well come sit down. There’s no reason we can’t have this conversation and be comfortable.

DJ: Yes, thank you. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink, would you? I’m parched. Taking the elevator can be exhausting.

WJ: Yeah. I’ve got water. I might have some whiskey, but I’m not sure, I had some earlier when I…

DJ: When you?

WJ: Oh nothing. I mean- you know. The thing with your- you know- sister. Let’s forget about it, or not forget about it. But let me make you a drink.

[I opened the fridge and the Jameson was most certainly still there. I made the mystery man a drink]

DJ: Thanks, I love Jameson. I love all drinks actually. I usually just drink Canadian Hunter so this is a fucking treat.

WJ: I guess we should start with a proper introduction. Right? You know my name. What’s yours?

DJ: Oh yes, where are my manners? I apologize I’ve had a few today. I’m Drunk Jesus.

WJ: Drunk Jesus?

DJ: Yes, that’s my name. You know my sister from earlier, but then again who doesn’t? If I had a nickel every time she… Um. I shouldn’t talk that way about her. She’s a bit of a whore, but I mean that in the nicest way possible. She’s a nice girl, she just, you know.

WJ: First let me say that I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way. I was just trying to take a nap and I thought it was a dream so I didn’t think much of it. You know I normally would not accept fellatio from a girl with a beard. I’m not weird or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m a weirdo.

DJ: The beard’s fake.

WJ: No way

DJ: Way, she just wears it for fun. She likes to wear it during intercourse, it’s just the way she rolls.

WJ: Man, if I would have known I would have taken it off.

DJ: That’s what they all say.

WJ: But wait, was it real? I mean, was it a dream or-

DJ: Shit if I know man. Do you mind making me another drink?

WJ: Sure, it’s no problem. I’m just wondering because you said that dreams don’t existing in Heaven and I’m pretty sure it was a dream but-

DJ: It’s a contractual obligation with the Hilton. It’s really complicated. I’m not super involved in the management here, I’m kind of the village idiot. Boss Jesus takes care of most of those things.

WJ: Boss Jesus?

DJ: Oh shit. I’ve said too much.

WJ: It’s okay, I can keep a secret. Just tell me. It’s fine.

DJ: Things are gonna get weird after this. Do you understand that?

WJ: Well, I already got a blowjob from a bearded female Christ so it’s not that weird, but I guess the beard was fake so it wasn’t as weird.

DJ: But you believed it was real.

WJ: That’s not my point. I’m just saying I can handle whatever it is you tell me.

DJ: Really?

WJ: Really.

DJ: Well fuck, I guess we’ll start at the beginning.

Drunk Jesus and I ordered another bottle of Jameson, two bottles of sangria, and a four pack of sugar free redbulls from the room service. He was going to explain everything to me, but he had a joint with him and after we smoked it he passed out cold. I’m pretty stoned right now so I’m gonna put on the Discovery Channel and pass out. Jesus Christ this guy snores like a motherfucker. Counting Sheep. 1…2…3…4…5..6…..

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