Bill Holder tried to sleepwalk through life, after Jennifer divorced him. But his wakeup call came from the police. They politely informed him that his 14-year-old daughter, Lisa, had been arrested for shoplifting. Ashamed that he had neglected her, Bill became a dedicated father.
Now twenty-two, Lisa was a senior at Boston College, on her way to becoming a physicist, (whatever that is). She said there was good money in it -- music to his ears. Jokingly, Bill asked if that meant she could fill his prescriptions at a discount.
She answered with the traditional "Daaaaaad!" to convey her exasperation with his foolishness. He could still bring out the little girl in her.
"Oh! That's a pharmacist isn't it." He wondered if she would miss his stale sense of humor.
No one needed him anymore and he became depressed. Wise doctor Murray suggested exercise, which sounded like an admirable way to produce a heart attack. His girl would get a sizable insurance settlement. So Bill jumped on the dusty stationary bike and pedaled until his heart was pounding harder than a drummer at an infantry charge. He pumped iron until he couldn't straighten his arms for days. No luck, the only thing Bill got for the effort was a toned body. At least he'd leave a fit corpse.
Bill called Lisa and told her that he needed to make some changes.
He had to pull the phone away from his ear, when she yelled, "HELLO! It's about time!"
After selling the house, he put the rest of his possessions in storage. The family construction business he practically gave to his greedy kid brother, Jack -- who'd probably be bankrupt within five years.
Finally, Bill was a free man and officially a tourist... at least until the money ran out.
'Every great rock and roll band makes a farewell world tour, so why shouldn't I,' he thought. So his travels began with a 7-day tour of Rome. A few lady friends hinted a desire to accompany him, but when you feel like putting your head in the oven you don't want someone around to tell you that you're baking at the wrong temperature. As a result, he flew solo, first class.
Bob and Ethel Morgan, a nice couple from Wisconsin celebrating their 40th anniversary, chatted with him on the Rome tour bus. After talking exclusively with Bob for a few miles, Bill got the impression Ethel didn't appreciate him distracting her husband from marital bliss, so he distanced himself at the Coliseum. Bill wanted to end life right there, as a gladiator, but the guide informed him that wasn't an option anymore.
The Sistine Chapel is where his Roman holiday took a strange detour. The structure was much smaller than he imagined, 134 feet long by 44 feet wide. He'd built larger foyers. The plain, boxy exterior masked the splendor that lives within. As Bill entered, an overwhelming fatigue engulfed him. Sagging onto an empty bench along the wall, he leaned back to admire Michelangelo's portrayal of the creation of Adam. God looked surprisingly European.
Closing his left eye, Bill pointed with his right hand and slowly traced down Adam's arm that reached out to his Maker, wondering what it must feel like to touch the hand of God... Suddenly, he was surrounded by fire and a man's voice was screaming, "Faith! Faith..."
That's when Bob shook him, "Bill, wake up buddy."
Opening his eyes, Bill could barely distinguish the concerned face hovering over him. "I'm awake," he said, struggling to straighten up, and feel normal. "How long was I out?"
"I'd say about 5 minutes. You were mumbling something -- sounded like 'faith'." Bob laughed, "What happened, you get a vision?"
"I must've been dreaming."
