You may be asking yourself, where is Reynolds during all of this? Well
just keep asking.

***

Edwards shook the sleep from his mind and looked around him. It was
very bright, and a fine white mist hovered around his feet. There was also
an unusually large amount of Amish people. "What the--" then he saw his
own form. Draped around him in place of the khaki pants and white shirt
he had worn before that beam struck him was a white robe. "Aw dammit!" he
shouted, then flinched as the Amish people glared at him.

"You're going to want to go see St Peter," said a bearded menanite, hiding
his disgust behind his usual wall of stoicism.

"Okay... uh... how come you guys are out here? Why don't you go see St Peter
too?"

The Amish man shrugged. "What's wrong with out here?"

Raising an eyebrow, Edwards wandered forward, until finally he came to
a collasal podium. Sitting at the top of this oversized and seemingly
excessive structure was a goat.

"Uh..... St Peter?"

"Baaaaaaaah."

"Are you....?"

"Baaaaaaaaaaaah."

Edwards blinked.

***

"Will someone get me a damn cup of coffee!? Is that so much to ask!?
Shouldn't be suprized, like the newscaster of a second rate station in
a crappy run down town could get any respect! THIS TOWN SMELLS LIKE OLD
PEOPLE! Are we ready to go on yet?"

"You've been on for about ten minutes now."

Kip stared. "You serious?"

"Yes sir, I tried to tell you for the first four minutes, but gave up since
you were obviously very busy making lewd gestures at passing women."

"...So that thing where I shouted the F word and flipped off God...?"

"Broadcast live. You may not have wanted to kick that puppy either."

"Hello, we're here live at the site of a floor collapse in some building
that, undoubtably, smelled like old people. Standing next to me is the
former secretary of the CEO, who was killed a few days ago under mysterious
circumstances. What do you have to say about the collapse?"

"I can't believe what you did to that puppy...."

"Dont you have anything to--"

"Poor innocent puppy..."

"It was looking at me funny. But we're not talking about me."

"Are you satan?"

"Maybe. But back to the collapse..."

***

"You know what's funny? You know what's just hilariously, side splittingly,
pants-peeingly funny?"

"What?"

"I think I have a crushed pelvis."

"That's not funny."

"You're right. MARY MOTHER OF GOD THE PAIN!"

"...Pants-peeingly?"

"I needed more adverbs, so I made one up."

"Adverb? Wouldn't those be adjectives?"

"They end in -ly."

"And that means adverb?"

"Yes."

"You know what's actually funny? For years I worked under this beam, and
there was this little vent thing right above my desk that always blew the
air directly in my face, I hated it. I would always wish that vent would
just fall off or something... and now that same vent is crushing my stomach."

"That is funny."

"But mostly sad."

"Nah, mostly funny."

"Quit laughing. I'm dying."

"Well so am I. Its like two prisoners laughing at each other on death
row."

"Death row, huh? So who'd you kill, hahaha..."

"Couple hookers."

"........"

***

Edwards shook the sleep from his mind and sat up.

"Man, I had the weirdest dream... there were Amish people, and a goat,
and Jane Fonda covered in cream cheese..."

"Baaaaaah."

"Oh don't tell me--"

"Baaaaaaaaaah."

"Where's Jane Fonda?"

"Baaaaaaah."

"It's official. The afterlife sucks."