A Short Story

While walking down the street one day, George "Dubya" Bush is shot by a disgruntled NRA member.
His soul arrives in heaven and he is met by St.Peter at the Pearly Gates.
"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems
there is a problem: We seldom see a Republican around these parts, so
we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in; I'm a believer." says Dubya.
"I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from the Man Himself: He says you have to
spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."
"But, I've already made up my mind; I want to be in Heaven."
"I'm sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter
escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to
Hell.
The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf
course; the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature a perfect
72 degrees. In the distance is a beautiful clubhouse. Standing in front
of it is dad...and thousands of other Republicans who had helped him out
over the years: Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, Jerry Falwell.... The whole of
the "Right" was there...everyone laughing...happy.... casually but
expensively dressed. They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about
the good times they had getting rich at expense of the "suckers and
peasants". They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster
and caviar.
The Devil himself comes up to Bush with a frosty drink, "Have a
Margarita and relax, Dubya!". "Uh, I can't drink no more, I took a
pledge," says Junior, dejectedly.
"This is Hell, son: you can drink and eat all you want and not
worry, and it just gets better from there!"
Dubya takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he
thinks is a really very friendly guy who tells funny jokes and pulls
hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like a Yale Skull and Bones brother with
real horns.
They are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it's
time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Bush steps on the
elevator and heads upward.
When the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and St. Peter
is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says,
opening the gate.
So for 24 hours Bush is made to hang out with a bunch of honest,
good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things
other than money, and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or
frat boy joke among them; no fancy country clubs and, while the food
tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor,
he doesn't see anybody he knows, and he isn't even treated like someone
special! Worst of all, to Dubya, Jesus turns out to be some kind of
Jewish hippie with his endless 'peace' and 'do unto others' jive.
"Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself, "Pat Robertson never
prepared me for this!"
The day done, St. Peter returns and says, "Well, then, you've spent
a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for
eternity."
With the 'Jeopardy' theme playing softly in the background, Dubya
reflects for a minute, then answers: "Well, I would never have thought
I'd say this-I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all-but I really
think I belong in Hell with my friends."
So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down,
down, all the way to Hell.
The doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren
scorched earth covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste... kind of
like Houston. He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags
and chained together, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags.
They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime.
The Devil comes over to Dubya and puts an arm around his shoulder.
"I don't understand," stammers a shocked Dubya, "Yesterday I was
here and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and we ate lobster and
caviar... drank booze. We screwed around and had a great time. Now
there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!"
The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, "Yesterday we were
campaigning; today you voted for us."