All Dogs go to Heaven
It was a Tuesday afternoon in the dead of winter. I sat at
an empty table in the dark corner of McKinley’s Pub, sipping a beer while
watching this evenings players stroll in.
Old Man Peterson slowly shuffled in first. He sat at the end of the bar next to the
brick wall. He liked it there, the
boiler for the apartments above the bar was on the other side of that wall and
it was always warm in the winter. It
was a nice cozy spot for Peterson to curl up and take a snooze in the hour
between finishing his last beer of the evening and his being tossed out into
the cold by McKinley himself.
The far end of the bar was the perfect place for Peterson,
no one else would have to smell him.
The regulars knew enough to hold their breath as they walked passed him
on their way to the Men’s room. He
looked like a pile of old rags with his worn-out dirty clothing that may have
been blue or maroon at one time long ago, but after years of not being washed
they were trapped halfway between brown and charcoal gray.
A cold blast of air rushed passed me as the door opened and
Big Mouth Charlie hurried into the bar, slamming the door behind him. “Holy
crap!” I just saw a brass monkey
chasing his balls down the street. Ha-ha-ha. How ya doin’ McKinley?”
McKinley just stood behind his bar and continued cleaning
glasses. A pronounced frown came to his face as he nodded hello to
Charlie. I knew McKinley was praying
that more customers would soon be in his bar, or Charlie would talk his ear off
in no time.
Cold air continued to announce the arrival of the remaining
players for the evening. Richard, the lonely businessman who was dressed in his
$1,000 pinstriped suit; closely followed by the almost pretty, twice married,
and now “it’s complicated” Amanda, who last, but not least, was followed by
Arnie the bogus Viet Nam Vet.
Arnie, of all the players on my stage this evening you are
my favorite. You are so full of crap.
Arnie my dear boy, making up war stories, making yourself the star of every
veterans magazine article you ever read.
These things don’t make you a Veteran, even if your friends at the bar
half believe your tall tales. Just like
you my dear boy, many good men were rejected as 4-F by the draft board. Arnie, you couldn’t get over it. You made up
lies to fill in the void in your life.
Now you can’t stop living the lie.
McKinley cracked a smile as Arnie sat next to Big Mouth
Charlie and the two of them proceeded
to talk and bullshit each other into oblivion.
Richard pulled a $50 bill from his wallet, and Amanda pulled
her bar stool closer to his. Richard
bought Amanda a drink, and Amanda thanked him by placing her hand upon his
upper thigh.
I looked at the clock on the wall. There was 25 minutes left to go, and all my players were on stage
playing their parts perfectly.
Oblivious to what was waiting for them.
McKinley picked up a scrap of paper and held it out to
Amanda who raised her open hand to McKinley as if pushing him away at the same
time she bobbed her head up and down as if to say “I know, I know.” McKinley gave her a stern look and placed the
slip of paper next to the register as Amanda leaned over and whispered in
Richard’s ear. Richard smiled broadly and mouthed the word, “SURE.”
Amanda got up and went to the Ladies room. Richard got up precisely 1 minute later and
headed for the restrooms as well, but he also entered the Ladies room, not the
Men’s.
“Peterson. Peterson!” Barked McKinley, “Time to take out the
trash.” Old Man Peterson maneuvered his arthritis-riddled body off his bar
stool and headed to the kitchen. There
were two bags waiting for him; one filled with garbage, and another, much
smaller bag, filled with the left over and half eaten sandwiches from
McKinley’s Tuesday $5 lunch special.
Peterson took out the trash, and secured the precious bag of food under
his coat. Then he walked back out into
the bar to be met once again by McKinley’s stern voice, “OK, that’s it
Peterson. Finish your beer and go home. Peterson looked McKinley in the eye and
smiled an unspoken Thank You.
Richard was the first one back to the bar from the Ladies
room. He sat back down, unnoticed by
Big Mouth Charlie and Arnie the Phony Vet.
Amanda emerged some minutes later and rejoined Richard at the bar. She pointed to the register and handed
McKinley a $100 bill. McKinley went to
the register, tossed the slip of paper into the trash, and returned to Amanda
with a twenty, and three ones.
It was time for Peterson to go home. His beer was empty and he had a precious
cargo of food to carry home. There
would be no snooze by the warm wall of the bar for him tonight, because I
shield good people from unnecessary pain whenever the plan allows.
Old Man Peterson didn’t see the handsome young couple that
pushed their way past him into the bar as he was shuffling out. No one in the bar saw them, except me.
They came to my table and sat down. The pretty young woman looked at her
watch. “Less than one minute to go. “
The handsome young man interjected, “I only see five of
them, and three of them are ours. I was
told it would be three and three. What’s up?
“Don’t worry. You
will get your three. We don’t cheat or
lie, that’s your domain.”
With a roar louder than a hundred dragons, with a blast of
heat hotter than a volcano, the old apartment building boiler on the other side
of the brick wall exploded, and five souls made a painful transformation from
flesh to spirit.
McKinley, Richard, Arnie, Big Mouth Charlie, and Amanda
found themselves standing in a surreal field of mist. Before them they saw a man in pure white robes, and he started to
speak to them.
“Rupert McKinley.
You have given half your till to the mission across the street from your
bar for 30 years. You give back at
every opportunity, while others only take.
Come to me. “
The handsome, yet evil, spirit couple from the bar waited
patiently, hidden in the shadows, as McKinley walked towards the Spirit in
White. The mist surrounded McKinley and
he disappeared into a bright light.
“Sergeant Arnold Prinlow.”
Arnie’s ears perked up. The spirit was calling him Sergeant. Arnie started to cry as the spirit motioned
for him to come closer.
“Arnie, my dear Arnie.
You are not well. Your mind is
not whole, but your spirit is strong.
All the good work you did at the Veterans Hospital for so many years
shall be rewarded. Come and enter
herein, and forever be called by the rank of Sergeant.
The spirit dried Arnie’s tears with his robe and Arnie
walked on into the mist of eternal peace and joy.
The spirits eyes turned to flame. He looked at Amanda. “Harlot! Harlot with AIDS who knowingly
spread this plague to all who were weak willed!” The Spirit clenched his fist and Amanda burst into flame, and she
fell through the mist. In an instant she was gone from sight.
Big Mouth Charlie started to tremble and he jabbered
senselessly as he seemed to melt into a ball of sweat.
Richard looked up.
He was still dressed in his suit, and he was carrying his briefcase.
“Do you think I don’t know what’s in the briefcase
Richard?”
Richard dropped the briefcase as if the handle was burning
his hand. The briefcase hit the mist
and popped open. The papers held within
it started to float upward and spiral into a tornado of whirling paper blades.
“You loved money so much!
You have been embezzling from countless thousands of investors for
decades!” The Spirit in White thrust
his fingertips at the paper tornado and it engulfed Richard in its swirling
mass of sharp edges, slicing into his flesh, inflicting ten thousand cuts. Richard screamed at the top of his lungs as
he fell through the mist and plummeted into the eternal darkness below.
“AND YOU! Your name
is too bitter on my tongue to ever be spoken.”
Big Mouth Charlie was whimpering and shaking like a leaf as
he crawled to the feet of the spirit.
He started to beg, “I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry. The little boy grew up fine. He is fine. I didn’t do
any permanent harm to him, he’s fine.”
“One little boy? No.
No, buy my count there were 23. You are
an abomination. Fine! FINE you
say? You destroyed those little
boys. Each of them has grown into a
monster just like you. Just like you
they are defiling little boys, destroying their lives, creating more monsters. You will pay for all of them. Every
generation of them!”
The Spirit in White motioned with a broad sweep of his arm
and the evil spirits emerged from the shadows.
“Take him, he is yours.”
No sooner had the Spirit in White spoken than the evil young
woman morphed into a hideous creature with nails like iron claws and the teeth
of a saber toothed tiger. She pounced
on Charlie and tore him into bloody shreds of flesh as together they sunk
through the mist into the eternal darkness, with Charlie’s screams of agony
slowly fading away into the abyss.
“That’s three for me and only two for you.”
“My you are as observant as you are evil, aren’t you? Why not stay a moment and watch?”
The Spirit in White slowly passed his hand over the mist and
it cleared away. Looking down into
Peterson’s apartment the specters could see him opening the bag of sandwiches
from the bar. Peterson slowly peeled
back the slices of stale bread, and removed the meatloaf within. He crumbled the meatloaf into the bowl of
his dog Champ. Like Peterson, Champ was
very old and afflicted with arthritis as well.
“AWE that’s so cute, but it’s still three to two!”
“Keep looking.”
The specters looked down once more and saw Old Man Peterson
in bed asleep, with Champ comfortably snuggled in at his feet.
“Still three to two.”
“Not quite.”
The mist drew together once more and Old Man Peterson stood
before the specters. The Spirit in
White held out his hand, and Peterson walked to him.
“So big deal, three – three. It’s a tie.”
“Wrong again.” The
Spirit in White pointed with his finger, and there in the mist was Champ, young
and filled with joy as he ran to be reunited with Peterson.
The Spirit in White smiled at the evil one and softly said,
“You lost. Now go back where you
belong.”
The evil one
departed, and Peterson, Champ, and the Spirit in White all walked together into
Glory.
