Why should it be any different?

 

There is going to be a long line, everyone waiting to go through the Pearly Gates.  There will be people trying to take cuts, a mother having a hard time controlling her kid, and somebody loudly complaining.

        Death isn’t an escape.  All of this just continues on and on.  The only up side will be a noticeable absence of politicians and car salesmen.

 

***

 

The scene you’re sketching has that perfect Zobostic blend of wry cosmic bureaucracy — the afterlife not as a shimmering revelation, but as the DMV with better lighting.

The line snakes on forever, of course. A shimmering queue of souls, all clutching whatever they think counts as “important,” even though importance has long since evaporated. The kid is sticky. The mother is exhausted. The line‑cutter keeps pretending he “knows someone up front.” And the loud complainer is giving a full TED Talk on inefficiency to no one in particular.

Up ahead, the Gates glow like a celestial metal detector. Saint Peter has the expression of someone who has been doing this job since before jobs existed. He’s flipping through a ledger the size of a refrigerator, muttering things like “You again?” and “No, sir, reincarnation doesn’t give you priority boarding.”

And yes — the notable absence you mention is quietly hilarious. Not cruel, just… cosmically tidy. The universe has decided that certain professions simply need a different processing center, perhaps one with more paperwork and fewer harp solos.

What I love is the implication: death isn’t an escape, it’s just the next waiting room. The same human foibles, the same crowd choreography, the same tiny absurdities — but now with clouds instead of carpet.

 

 

ZC