"Welcome to heaven, may I have your names, please?" he said.
"Uh, Newt Gingrich."
"Mitt Romney--hey, is Moronai around?"
"One thing at a time Mr. Romney. You'll have plenty of time for bar hopping later."
"Bar hopping? What the...?"
"Okay, Gingrich--that's with two i's is it not--Gingrich line one and Mr. Romney if you will proceed to line nine."
"Catch ya later Newt," said Mitt. "Let's grab a drink some time."
"Sure," said Newt, crossing his fingers behind his back and lying through his teeth. "I'd love to."
"You know," whispered the Saint to Newt, "That really doesn't work at all. I'm going to have to write you up."
Flustered, Newt hurried over to his assigned line and picked up a brochure that described the process whereby he would be assigned a caseworker, an afterlife partner, eternal home and means of transportation (after all, heaven was a very big place). Newt's caseworker was an up-and-coming seraphim named Cletus.
"Let me get your file here," said Cletus.
"Take your time," said Newt, shielding his eyes against the blinding light surrounding Cletus. "I've got all the time in the world." He chuckled and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially "that's a little afterlife joke."
"Cute," said Cletus, rolling his eyes and preening wings three, four and six. "Like I haven't heard that a few times over the past 6,000 years. You're a regular Methusaleh."
"Methusaleh?" asked Newt.
"Yeah, you know, world's oldest man," explained Cletus, now crawling under the desk and digging through stacks of manila folders. "Also happens to be the world's oldest comic with the world's oldest act. Hasn't written anything new since the flood. You can catch him down at the Improv in the entertainment district every Friday night."
"Oh," said Newt, entirely confused. "Right."
"Holy, holy, holy Toledo here it is!" Cletus shouted, waving a smoking file above his head. "Now we're cooking with gas. OK soooooooo. Oh. Oh my," giggled Cletus. "Haven't you been a naughty boy? Holy, holy, holy crap!"
"What? What did I do?"
"Well, it's not so much what you did do as what you didn't do. You didn't deal fairly with wife number one and you didn't tell wife number two the truth. Plus there's that whole lobbying thing. Very messy."
"Oh. Well. Sorry," he murmured and shrugged his shoulders.
"According to this, you just baaaaarely got in. But, not to worry, not to worry. You're still here, aren't you? I must say though, this will affect the ways things are from here on out."
"Why?" asked Newt. "What do you mean?"
"Well, everyone in heaven gets a partner, home and celestial car. But the quality of those things is determined by your pay grade and your pay grade is determined by how you lived."
"OK. I can appreciate that. So, what do I get?"
"Let's just take it slow, shall we? Gotta watch that culture shock. Why don't we take a drive to your new home so you can get settled in?"
"Sure," Newt agreed. "I'm really looking forward to a nice hot shower."
"Yeaaaaaaah, about that," Cletus hesitated and looked as if he were about to say something but then changed his mind. "Why don't we talk about that later, ok?"
Cletus escorted Newt to the underground parking garage where a beautiful, shiny new Bentley awaited them.
"This is mine?" asked Newt eagerly.
"Ah, no," answered Cletus. "This is actually mine. Yours is in the shop. Here's the claim check. It's a 1978 Dodge Omni. Should be ready some time next millennium. Sweet ride, eh?"
"Humph," said Newt as he shoved the claim check in a pocket and climbed into the luxurious car.
The Bentley floated from cloud to cloud like a dream as Cletus drove through heaven's shining streets and pointed out a few of the sights.
"Throne o' God on your right, angelic choir stalls on the left. There's the new Masonic temple going up just over there. They've been working on that for-ev-er." said Cletus.
"Ahhh," said Newt, feigning interest.
Cletus kept driving and driving. They passed through the business, entertainment and temple districts and reached the first residential districts. Street after street of breathtaking mansions with gardens, eternity pools and armed guards rolled past.
"Is one of these mine?" asked Newt eagerly with his nose and hands pressed against the window.
"Stop that!" snapped Cletus. "I just had this car detailed. Your place is a little further on."
He tapped a brilliant finger on the deluxe GPS monitor and muttered to himself. "Is this thing even on? I wanna stop somewhere for some angel food pie."
"Recalculating," said the GPS.
"Humph," said Newt.
Hours passed and Newt had just nodded off to a deep, restful sleep when he felt a burning sensation on his left arm and bolted upright.
"Ahhh!" he screamed. "What did you do? Put a cigarette out on me?"
"Holy, holy, holy drama queen," said Cletus. "I merely touched you. I'm burning here with zeal after all. If you can't stand the heat, get out of my car."
Newt glared at him.
"No, seriously, get out of my car," said Cletus. "We're here. This is your place."
"Oh!" said Newt. "This is...um...this is...well there's no other way to say it other than..."
"This is horrible," Cletus finished for him. "Yes, I know. But, this is what your pay grade gets you."
Newt looked with horror at the dilapidated shack before him. "It's an outhouse! This is where I'm supposed to live for all eternity?? You call this heaven??"
"Tsk, tsk, picky, picky," Cletus nagged. "I think it's rather quaint. Oodles of ambiance you know. Very rustic. I admit we're in the far, far outskirts of heaven but it's still heaven. Sure the area's a little rundown, but urban renewal's on the way! Give it another three or four thousand years."
"Oh man, it doesn't even have plumbing" Newt muttered.
"Yeah," chuckled Cletus. "How ironic is that?"
"Maybe I should have gone to hell instead," signed Newt.
Cletus reached out and slapped him soundly on both cheeks.
"Get a hold of yourself!" he scolded. "You think this is bad? Hell is in the Bahamas. If you're really evil they force you to stay at the Atlantis Resort. It's like Groundhog Day with water slides."
"Nooo," Newt moaned. "That's just horrible. Forget I said anything."
"Forgive and forget! That's our company motto! Take a look around while I make a phone call and check on your afterwife."
"My afterwife?"
"Wife, partner. Same thing really. You've been assigned Fidel Castro but he's not here yet. He's still alive--hanging out with Hugo Chavez at Sloppy Joe's bar and trading CIA assassination plot tales. I'd get Batista to stand in for him but you can bet he's in hell for sure."
"Fidel Castro! But...what...who...he..." Newt spluttered as his face turned several deepening shades of purple.
"Holy, holy, holy mackerel!" Cletus threw up his hands in mock horror. "Chill-ax Newt. No need to worry! I'm sure Fidel will be more than happy to let you wear the pants in this relationship."
"Humph," said Newt as he cast a longing eye at the depths below.
"Bahamas, Newt." reminded Cletus. "Atlaaaaaaaaantis."
"Brrrrrr," Newt shuddered.
The years passed and Newt worked very hard at acclimating to his new environment. Fidel Castro finally died at the ripe old age of 136 and--true to Cletus' word--he happily donned a dress and assumed the role of Newt's afterwife. (It turned out to be a pretty straightforward thing although Fidel did insist on keeping the beard; "I love you," he whined, "but papito it's my trademark!")
One day, the archangels made the rounds and announced that all of heaven was invited to attend a concert celebrating St. Peter's early retirement (after losing the keys to heaven for the umpteenth time, the powers that be had pressured him to step down). Newt and Fidel were very excited to revisit central heaven so they made a point of getting there early and doing a little people watching.
The crowds in central heaven were enormous (after all, everyone who had been anyone was there) and Newt soon found himself fascinated by all the familiar faces. Suddenly, he spotted Mitt Romney walking hand in hand with Kim Kardashian.
"Well, I'll be...Ouch!" he yelped as he felt a searing touch.
"Holy, holy, holy cow Newt," said a newly arrived Cletus. "When are you gonna learn to relax? It's just me."
"Cletus, hi, say, listen, isn't that Mitt Romney over there with Kim Kardashian?"
"Yes it is," answered Cletus. "She's his afterwife."
"What?! His afterwife?? How did Mitt Romney end up with Kim Kardashian and I end up with Fidel Castro? There is absolutely no way that he was any better than me back on Earth--especially with that whole Bain business."
"No, see, you don't understand." explained Cletus. "It has nothing to do with him. It's all about Kim. She just baaaaaaarely got in."
