This is my story for fun. Yep, it still probably has errors. Sorry. Tried to catch them all, but I am sure I missed some. So did my editor. We were never that good in English anyway. Probably why we never wrote that best selling novel. So sue us, Or better yet, write some nasty comment for me to read and mull over for hours on end till it causes me not to sleep at night.
All characters are over 18 and are fictional. Any resemblance to any real-life persons or situations is purely coincidental.
I awoke to find myself confused and in a very unfamiliar surrounding. I was sitting in a room, very similar to that of my middle school principal, except almost everything was gray.
There was a gray desk. On the wall was a gray clock. Behind the gray desk sat an older gentleman dressed in a gray suit. On the desk was a gray nameplate with the name Peter written in gray letters. The only other thing in the room was a very large gray binder sitting in the middle of the top of the desk.
I said, almost everything was gray. To my left, there was a white door and too my right there was a red door. Short of that, there was nothing. No sound. Nothing.
I sat for felt like hours, just staring at the older gentleman. Him eyeing me and me eyeing him in silence. In reality, it was probably only like a few minutes, but to me it felt like forever, before I had the nerve to say something.
Me: Hello.
Peter: Are you getting it yet, or do you need more time?
Me: I think I am getting it. Am I dead?
Peter: Yes, Tom. I am sorry to say that you are dead. Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Peter. I will be the judge today for your judgment.
Me: Peter? You mean, as in The St. Peter?
Peter: Yes. Some have called me that before. However, where here in paradise, we prefer not to use titles anymore. In paradise, I am just Peter. Of course, that being said, when if you get a chance to talk to the "big guy", we still tend to address him by his title. And, I should stress, if you are unfortunate enough to go through the red door, the "boss" down there is insistent on your referring to him by his title. But let's cross that bridge if it is needed.
Me: OK. Do you do everyone's judgements?
Peter: No. Not at all. Actually, I do very few judgments now. Doing judgements is a tiring task. I am getting older and there are so many people that come through now, that I have to have a lot of help. There is an entire staff of people who do judgments. However, today is a special day, and it was all hands on deck. The judgment team wanted to close shop early so we could catch the big game. Therefore, I agreed to pitch in and take a few cases to help lighten the load.
Me: The big game?
Peter: Oh yeah, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are taking on Einstein, Elvis and Lincoln in the 3 on 3 beach volleyball finals of the All-Paradise Shootout. It is going to be very exciting. Ever since Lincoln joined E squared, they have been unstoppable. He is very tall and can work the net better than most. This is the first time in a few millennia that a team has put up a decent challenge to Team Trinity.
But enough of that, lets get on to your judgement so we can out of here and maybe you too can catch the game.
That being said, Peter opened the gray binder on the desk and quickly leafed through the pages stopping every few seconds to make some notes. After a few minutes, Peter looked at me and spoke.
Peter: What do you remember about, the end.
Me: Well, I guess is all started about 6 months ago. My best friend's wife, Sandy passed away in a sudden car accident. She was coming home from work and was hit by a drunk driver. Killed instantly. Shocked all of us to our core. The kids were devastated and it really hurt my wife Toni and her husband Frank.
Peter quickly moved through the binder stopping abruptly on a page. He looked for a few seconds, murmured to himself and then spoke.
Peter: Yes. I thought so. I know Sandy. I remember when she passed though judgement. I was her judge. She is a very beautiful woman. Both on the inside and out. When she passed through here a while back, she practically took the express train through the white door.
If that is your path, I am sure you will be able to see her if you would like at the volleyball game later today. She is huge sports fan here in paradise. As a matter of fact, I says here that she had asked to come speak on your behalf as a witness in your judgement.
However, according to the notes, "her testimony was not needed". Interesting. There is an additional note here, but I will save that for later. Please continue.
Me: Well, as I said, Sandy and my wife Toni were best friends from college. They met as freshman roommates, and hit it off immediately. You would think they were sisters. This is when I met them. I saw them in a bar off campus one night, and I watched them as they got hassled.
My roommate Frank had run to the bathroom, when I saw them getting "pawed" by this random drunk guy. I was pretty drunk and in addition to thinking I could sing and dance really well, I thought I was Superman. I went over and told the jerk to stop it, or I was going to kick his ass.
Well, a fight ensued, and I got my ass kicked. Eventually Frank stepped in to help, and we proceeded kick the jerk's ass. The girls were so impressed that we got ourselves some phone numbers. Those numbers turned into girlfriends. And those girlfriends turned into wives. It was always going to be the four of us together until the end.
Peter listened closely, so I continued.
Me: After we were married the four of us had great lives together. We were always there for each other. We stood up for each other, during the others wedding. When we had kids, we were there for each other. When we went on vacations, we went as a group. For over 30 years, everything was golden, until that day about 6 months ago, when we got the call that Sandy had been killed.
And then it all started to change. To go bad.
Peter: How?
Me: Well.... The a few years before Sandy's death, the kids had all moved out of the houses and had all gone on to their own lives. It took some getting used to, since they all live many states away, but we quickly got back to being the Awesome Foursome. Hanging out. Drinking together. Doing fun things as a group. Heck, we probably saw each other 5 nights a week, up until Sandy's death.
After that it all changed. Frank immedialty became depressed. He became bitter and angry that life had cheated him. he would not accept help. He never wanted to go out. He never wanted to visit. He just sat in his house and drank by himself. Toni and I were very worried and told him so many times.
For a while, we attempted to get him professional help, but he flatly turned us down. He was even very rude about it. We were at wits end. Out of ideas, until one Saturday when I was getting ready to cut the lawn Toni told me she had enough.
She told me that she planned to go over to Frank's house and break him out of his funk. Whatever it took. We had been best friends for too long and she owed it to her best friend's memory to do what was necessary to get Frank back to his old self. Little did I know it at the time when I agreed, but that apparently that included having sex with him.
I sat their sad for a few seconds and reflected on the end of my life and what had become of it. Peter said nothing, allowing me to ponder to myself.
After a few minutes of dead silence, I began to speak again.
Me: I did not realize they were sleeping with each other until the very end.
Peter: Really? How did you find out?
Me: It was another typical Saturday. I got up, was going out to do some yard work when Toni told me she was going over to cheer up Frank. I agreed, but as she left, I felt both happy and sad at the same time.
Peter: Happy and sad?
Me: Yes. Happy that Frank had finally broken out of his funk after months, but sad that Toni still felt the need to go over every Saturday and spend the entire day with him. I know it was selfish, but my wife had done her job. She had helped our best friend get his life back on track. It was his responsibility to get it fully back in order. She had listened to him, talked with him and helped him deal with the grief. He had to do some of the lifting himself. Or so I thought.
Peter: And?
Me: It all came to an end when I came in from working in the yard. It had been particularly hot, and I thought I might be getting heat stroke, so decided to sit down and get a drink. I came in to grab some lemonade, when I found the note from Toni on the kitchen table.
It said:
Dear Tom,
As you know I have been going over to help Frank every Saturday to get him to start living again and I appreciate all the patients you have shown me so far. Sandy would not have wanted him living like he is. I know you already know that Sandy and I once made a pact, that if one of us died, the other would do everything in our power to help the surviving spouse get back on with their life. I feel I am living up to her expectation of me.
I thought I had tried everything I could with Frank and I was very frustrated at being so unsuccessful. I tried talking. I tried making him take walks in the park to get him out of the house. Nothing worked. That was until one day about four weeks ago, I tried something complete new to try and shock him back to reality.
Without any indication to him, I took his cock out and gave him a hand job. Yes, I said a hand job.
