|All Scars Go To Heaven
Author: Jonah Heman PM
Where do scars go when they die? A question not easily answered. This is the story of one scar's journey to the afterlife, and the deadly web of blackmail, sleaze, and deceit he soon found himself entangled in. Caldecott award winner. Thanks for reading!Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Adventure - Chapters: 9 - Words: 52,881 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 01-16-09 - Published: 10-31-08 - id: 2590672
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So this is my new book! It's been over a year in the making so hopefully it's readable. Please R&R, and thanks for reading! :)
"Mommy, is my scar sleeping?" asked Little Joey, cradling an unmoving scar in his wee hands.
"Let me see it." said his mom, picking up the scar. She shook it lightly, checked its pulse, then pressed her ear against its leathery hide to examine its heartbeat.
After a few moments, she put the scar back in her boy's hands. "We'll be sure to give it a nice funeral." she said softly.
Little Joey immediately burst into tears.
"Alright, alright! We'll give it a GREAT funeral!" said his mom grumpily.
"W-with a Vietnamese barbershop quartet?" sniffled Little Joey.
"Of course." said his mom. "All the usual traditions will apply."
"YOU'RE THE BEST MOMMY EVER!" said Little Joey happily, giving her a big hug.
"What can I say? I'm just THAT good!" she bragged.
"But I'm still sad about little Scarry." Little Joey sniffled. "Why'd he have to die? Why can't he stay with me forever?"
The mom, sensing trouble, blindsided him with a basin of hot oil.
"YOW! HOT STUFF!" he shrieked.
"Now then, I believe it's time I told you about scar heaven." said his mom magically. "Scar heaven is where scars go when they die. It's a beautiful place. There's nowhere in the world a scar would rather be."
"Not even scar hell?" asked Little Joey excitedly.
"Close but no cig-scar." chuckled his mom. "That's an old scar parable, as written in their people's ancient religious text, The Scar'an."
"How glorious!" said Little Joey, making no effort to clean his flesh of the deadly oils. "Tell me more about scar heaven!"
"Certainly. In scar heaven, there's nothing but smooth, unmarked skin as far as the eye can see. A scar can set up camp wherever his heart desires." said the mom romantically. "In scar heaven, scars live in peace with one another. There is none of the senseless scar warfare and needless violence we've grown accustomed to on earth."
"R-really?" Little Joey whispered weakly, barely maintaining consciousness as what was left of his flesh continued to sizzle.
"Yup!" said his mom. "Your little Scarry is in a better place now. It's time to let go."
"I guess you're right. Thanks mom." he said, wiping away a tear.
"Anytime." she said kindly, breaking his thumb.
MEANWHILE, UP IN HEBBIN
"Careful... Careful... Easy does it..." said Satan gently, as God reached out a trembling hand toward the unstable Jenga tower. "Just take it slow..."
"I know what I'm doing!" said God grumpily.
"No you don't. You're supposed to take blocks away, not add them." said Satan.
"I thought we were playing Reverso-Jenga." said God.
"Whatever, I never said anything about Reverso-Jenga." said Satan. "Stop making stuff up."
"I'm not!" said God. "You're not pinning this on me, Satan! You got nothin'!"
"I've got more than you think." said Satan coolly, dropping his purse. A camera fell out of it. "Oops. A hidden camera. I'd hate for it to have filmed anything... unusual."
God narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?"
"100 bucks. Cash." said Satan smoothly.
"And if I refuse?" asked God aggressively.
"Then everyone in existence learns you don't know how to play Jenga, the easiest game ever." said Satan, patting the camera. "I'll give you a month to pony up the dough. After that, I send a copy of this tape to every major news station in the universe. And when that happens, you can kiss your reputation goodbye."
God stood up and pointed at the door. "I think you better leave." she said intensely.
Satan smirked and backed out the door. "Thirty days, God. Thirty days. Think about it." He shut the door behind him.
"Aw man! Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?!" moaned God, sitting down on the couch and putting her face in her hands.
"Rob a few banks!" suggested Evil God, appearing over her shoulder. "Or better yet, become a prostitute!"
"For an evil conscience, you've sure got a lot of great ideas." said God. She turned to her other shoulder. "What do you think, Good God?"
"Don't listen to her!" said Good God, popping into existence. "Prostitution is a sin!"
"What about bank robbery?" asked God.
"That I'm not sure about." admitted Good God. "But if it's endorsed by that treacherous varmint then it HAS to be bad!"
"Last I checked, making harsh generalizations was a sin as well." said Evil God, sounding hurt.
"I seriously don't think that's a sin." said Good God. "I mean, it isn't nice, but..."
"It is too a sin! I swear!" insisted Evil God. "Right? Right?" She looked to God for reassurance, but the older girl just shook her head sympathetically.
"Fine." said Evil God. "I guess I'm just an IDIOT then!" She started crying.
"Hey now, don't cry." said God, patting her on the back. "You're not an idiot. I've known you for a billion years, you're a very intelligent person. Everyone's wrong sometimes."
"Th-thanks, God." said Evil God, blowing her nose. "You're a real pal."
"Don't mention it." said God. "But yeah, I hope you won't be offended if I go with Good God on today's moral crisis. This emotional breakdown has cast your credibility into serious doubt."
"I understand." said Evil God sadly, disappearing.
"Will she be okay?" asked Good God, concerned.
"Don't worry, she's been through worse than this." said God. "Like the time I dared her to eat a toy truck."
"Wow! Did she do it?" asked Good God.
"You bet!" said God. "Ahh, I remember it like it was chesterday..."
"Happy chesterday, Evil God!" said God happily, raising a wineglass. They were in a fancy restaurant, celebrating their good fortune on this cool chesterday evening.
"Please, call me Linda." said Evil God.
"Linda. I like that. Has a nice ring to it." said God. "So, did you get me any chesterday presents?"
"Nope." said Linda. "Did you get me any?"
"Nope!" said God. "I love chesterday, don't you?"
"It's definitely my favorite holiday." nodded Linda. "And this is the best one yet!"
"Even better than last year?" asked God "With the chesterday parade and the famous Running Of The Chesters?"
"Yeah, maybe not." admitted Linda. "Those Chesters sure know how to run, don't they? Whew! I'm STILL worn out!"
"You said it." said God. "And did you see their manly chests? Those guys sure lived up to their name, let me tell you!"
"Total hotties." agreed Linda. "Did any of them hit on you?"
"Are you kidding?" asked God. "They were all over me. No mere mortal can resist my charms."
"Juicy, explicit details. Right now." commanded Linda.
"Nothing happened." said God. "As the omnipotent ruler of all existence, I feel I have an unspoken code of decency to follow. Just one of my many responsibilities as God."
"Wow." said Linda. "So have you cracked the code yet?"
"Not yet!" said God, frustrated. "It's because no one's spoken it! But once I figure it out I'm gonna be decent as they come!"
"So what you're saying is you actually DID sleep with one of them." translated Linda.
"Yes, let's say one." agreed God. "Oh look! Food's here!"
"For the lovely lady, a bowl of our finest clam chowder." said the waiter, setting down a bowl in front of her.
"Thank you!" said God politely. "Is it good?"
"Yup!" said the waiter. "The best there is!"
"Alright!" cheered God.
"Gullible fool." said the waiter quietly. "And for the evil conscience, a pinecone. Rare, as requested."
He put down a plate in front of Linda and lifted the lid extravagantly, revealing a toy truck with a delightful lettucey garnish.
"Uh, I didn't order this." said Linda.
"What?" asked the waiter, walking away.
"I said I didn't order this!" called Linda.
"I can't hear you! You're too far away!" the waiter called back, walking out the door.
"Linda, just eat it." said God impatiently.
"What?! Eat a toy truck?! Are you crazy?!" demanded Linda. "This thing's gotta be an 18-wheeler! Just look at it!"
"THAT guy doesn't seem to mind eating a toy truck." said God, discreetly pointing at a businessman across the restaurant, eating a toy truck with his coffee as he checked the stocks. "You want to be better than THAT guy, don't you?"
BACK IN HEBBIN
"Then what?" asked Good God.
"When Linda failed to ingest the entire toy truck, her grief drove her to take her own life..." said God sadly.
"Oh no!" said Good God, putting a hand over her mouth.
"...TO BEAUTIFUL TIJUANA!" shouted God. "Look, she sent us a postcard! 'Dear guys! Wutup! I'm having a great time in Tijuana! Wish you were here. I'll bring you back a sombrero (edible if possible). Love, Linda.' Well isn't that nice!"
"I'm glad she's doing alright." said Good God, relieved. "She seems to have completely recovered from that tragic toy truck incident."
"Postcards can be deceiving." said God wisely. "Though the odds of such an occurrence are infinitesimal, it is possible she merely feigned a amicable demeanor so we wouldn't worry about her."
"You really think she's capable of such treachery?" asked Good God worriedly.
"She's always kept to herself. Frankly, I don't know WHAT she's capable of." said God seriously. "I think we need to be much more careful around Linda in the future. God knows what could be at stake!"
"Since you're God, does that mean you know what's at stake?" asked Good God.
"Yes! Our lives!" said God. "I'm happy you asked."
"Me too." said Good God warmly. They hugged.
Suddenly an angel in a suit burst into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but you're needed at the gates!"
"What is it this time?" asked God impatiently.
"Wally spilled some coffee on them, ma'am. We need you to help clean up." said the angel.
"How much coffee?" asked God intensely.
"Well, you know Wally. It was a pretty big cup..." coughed the angel.
"How much coffee." repeated God, narrowing her eyes.
AT THE GATES
"This is a lot of coffee!" noted God as they descended down to the gates in a diving bell.
"Yeah, you know Wally." sighed the angel.
"Where did he get it all?" asked God.
"That's what we're trying to figure out." said the angel. "Boston is suspected.
"Boston? Oceans of coffee?" asked God skeptically. "Kind of a stretch, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but it's the only lead we've got." said the angel determinedly.
"Where's Wally now?" asked God.
"He ran away." said the angel. "Boston is suspected."
"Makes sense to me." said God. She looked down. Through the thick brown liquid she could see the faint outline of the gates. "Wait, what's that?"
"The gates." said the angel. "The outline's pretty faint, but yeah, that's them."
"What about that thing behind them?" asked God, pointing. "That little thing right there."
"Gee, I dunno... Boston?" shrugged the angel.
"That's your answer to everything, isn't it?" asked God testily.
"No! I swear!" said the angel.
"What's two plus two?" asked God suspiciously.
"B... Boston?" whimpered the angel.
"Nope." said God.
"Then it's GOTTA be Boston!" replied the angel enthusiastically, jumping up and clicking his heels together! He managed to jump while inside a diving bell. That's how confident he was in his answer.
"No." said God crushingly.
His spirit cracked and empty, the angel struggled to summon a reply to this devastating assault upon his ego. But before he could piece together a salvageable statement, THEY came.
Sweatband after sweatband pummeled the diving bell, thrashing it about in the briny deep like a beetle on a leash.
"The sweatbands are attacking!" cried God. "This is no outlands skirmish! This is a full-on battle!"
"But the treaty-" stammered the angel as the diving bell was rocked by another wave of sweatbands.
"The treaty is over!" shouted God. "This is war!" Just then the bell was shattered by the toughest blow yet, and both God and the angel were swept into the coffee sea.
God had never learned to swim, and she knew she could only hold her breath for 20 seconds, max. The currents sucked her away from the angel (who was fighting a losing battle against the much nimbler sweatbands) and into unknown waters.
Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she saw a shadowy figger swimming towards her...
"HEY GUYS, CHECK THIS OUT!" shouted Satan excitedly, doing a handstand.
"Pitiful." scoffed a damned soul.
"But this skill takes eight years to perfect..." wept Satan.
"Ah. You must only be on the first one." said the damned soul. "Pawn."
"You're a total fag and a jerk." said Satan sensitively. "And it's pronounced 'pone', by the way."
"You're pronounced pone." the damned soul shot back. "With a capital 'retard'."
"Whatever, you're just jealous because I'm Satan and you're a fat grub in a pot." said Satan insultingly.
"I am not!" whined the damned soul.
"You're right." sighed Satan wearily. "I don't know what I was thinking."
"Probably that I was a really cool guy." suggested the damned soul.
"Yeah, that had to be it." agreed Satan, nudging him. "You cool guy, you!"
"Shucks, I'm speechless!" said the damned soul, blushing.
"Mornin', Satan!" said Mister Mailman, riding along on his postman bike.
"Mornin', Mister Mailman!" said Satan. "Have you any letters in your bag for me?"
"Nope! You did get a magazine though!" said Mister Mailman sunnily.
"Is it..." Satan looked around and then whispered scandalously into Mister Mailman's ear. "...Playboy?"
"Nope! Consumer Reports!" laughed Mister Mailman, handing it to him. "Have a lovely day!"
"You too." said Satan. He then added under his breath, "...You obesity research."
Mister Mailman, who was walking away, stopped in his tracks. He turned around and angrily stomped back, looking Satan straight in the eye.
"What did you call me?" he said quietly, teeth clenched in fury.
"I didn't call you nuthin, man!" trembled Satan. "Y-you know me-"
"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!" roared Mister Mailman.
"An obesity research." admitted Satan. "B-but I assure you, I meant nothing by it! Please spare me!"
"Oh, I'll SPARE you, alright." chuckled Mister Mailman. "Spare you the luxury of having unbroken knees!" He kicked Satan's knees and they broke.
"Aw man." said Satan. "Those knees owed me money."
"I'll cover their debts." said Mister Mailman. "How much did they owe you?"
"Well, the left one owes me 30 bucks, and I loaned the right one 100 bucks just last week." said Satan.
"Done." said Mister Mailman, handing him a shiny 130 dollar piece from his pennypouch. "Now, begone with you!"
"Yes, milord!" said Satan raggedly, scampering away.
"And you, what are YOU looking at?" asked Mister Mailman crabbily, turning to the damned soul.
"The biggest obesity research in the world." replied the damned soul defiantly.
"Bah! You shall pay dearly for your insolence!" shouted Mister Mailman, kicking at his knees but catching only air. "What the-?!"
"Looking for these?" chuckled the damned soul, holding his own knees.
"Not anymore!" yelled Mister Mailman. He kicked the knees out of his opponent's hands and stomped them firmly.
"Oh de agony..." said the damned soul timidly, falling to the ground and crying.
Mister Mailman simply scoffed, a tiny smirk of amusement creeping across his face at the sight of the man's suffering.
"Pansy." he said insultingly, getting on his postman bike and riding away, swift and elegant as leaves on the wind.
BACK IN HEBBIN
God slowly opened her eyes, feeling a faint sea breeze on her face. She seemed to be lying on a beach someplace. As she regained her vision, she noticed a scar looming over her. What did it want?
"Hi! I'm Scarry the scar!" said Scarry the scar. "I saved your life!"
"Core, man." said God, sitting up.
"You bet!" said Scarry. "Those sweatbands sure gave you a beating! I've never seen their kind attack in a group like that!"
"Yes, generally they're a solitary breed." said God, sitting up. "Something must have disturbed their migration."
"Perhaps... Another swarm?" suggested Scarry.
"It's possible." said God. "But I was thinking something more... EVIL."
"Something like ME?!" came a familiar voice from behind them.
God leapt to her feet and whirled around. "YOU!"
"Long time no see, God." said The Migration Disruptor, his cape rustling in the breeze. "You look as ravishing as ever."
"Why'd you do it, Migration Disruptor?" asked God angrily. "Sweatbands are my creatures too!"
"Just felt like disrupting some migrations to pass the time." said The Migration Disruptor cruelly. "Those weaklings were the perfect target."
"Bastard." said God, clenching her fists. "Stay back, Scarry. I'm gonna send this lumpy lion to bed."
The Migration Disruptor just chuckled. "Don't get so cocky, God. It just so happens I have an ace up my sleeve."
God smirked confidently. "Hate to break it to you, but that top you're wearing is... SLEEVELESS!"
The nefarious villain looked at his shirt and saw it was true. "Blast it! I'm unarmed!"
"Quick, God! While he's defenseless!" shouted Scarry.
"Right!" nodded God. "HOLYYYYYYYY...." she began charging up her attack. "SOUUUUUUUUUUL!" She launched a huge energy beam at the helpless Migration Disruptor, frying him like a poached egg in a San Antonio greenhouse.
"That takes care of that!" said God heroically, striking a victory pose.
"Awesome!" said Scarry. "You're like a superhero!"
"Oh no, nothing like that!" she said modestly, striking another pose. "I'm just... God!"
"God, huh? So am I in heaven then?" asked Scarry.
"That's right!" said God magically. "All scars go to heaven!"
"Even if they're serial rapists?" asked Scarry, eyes glimmering with wonder.
"Even if they're serial rapists." God warmly replied. She paused. "You aren't, right?"
"Not at the moment!" said Scarry cheerfully.
"Great!" said God. "So what's this island you've brought me to?"
"No idea!" piped Scarry. "Are we lost?"
"Guess so!" laughed God. They high fived.
Suddenly, an ancient Spanish galleon approached.
"I heard the sound of your high five and came as fast as I could." said the captain. "Is everyone alright?"
"Shaken but alive." reported God. They got on the boat and immediately heard a faint hooting from below deck.
"What's that?" asked God.
"Nothin'! You're hearin' things!" said the sea captain. "Whar you blokes headed?"
"Heaven." said God.
"I don't believe in heaven!" said the captain. "Let's go to Earth instead!"
"You don't believe in heaven? I'm God! I'm living proof!" said God.
"Too late!" said the captain. "Once the coordinates are logged in, there's nothing I can do!"
"Aw man! I don't wanna go to Earth!" complained Scarry the scar. "I was just there!"
"Tough crumbs, kid!" said the captain. "But don't worry, thar's plenty do aboard the SS Swirlybye! Games and treats galore!"
"Sounds great!" said God. "What's your name anyway, old pal?"
"Tone Jog Hilly!" said Tone Jog Hilly, dancing raucously with a jug o' whiskey. "But you can call me Captain Hilly!"
"Captain Hilly. I like it." said God. "Got a nice ring to it."
"Yep. Got it from me former wife." he said fondly, stroking a gold ring on his left hand. "Aye, Clarissa. One day I'll be joinin' ye in the briny deep, my love."
"Ew." said God.
"Who's up for tetherball?!" shouted Scarry, throwing a ball at Captain Hilly's head and knocking him to the deck.
"Scarry! Shouldn't you keep that beast on a tether?" scolded God.
"Sorry." said Scarry.
"No prod." said God, with a heartwarming nod.
"Don't you mean prob?" asked Skinnyleg Bob, watching The Blob with some corn on the cob.
"I said prod and I mean it." said God to the peanut, stealing his sweater before he could clean it.
"Okay. God, give first mate Skinnyleg Bob back his sweater." said Captain Hilly. "That's an important part of the SS Swirlybye uniform."
"Nice going, man." said God glumly. "You ruined it."
"You are a hog." agreed Skinnyleg Bob.
"No, don't even try." said God, patting Skinnyleg Bob on the back. "We've lost it. It's over."
"Sorry..." said Captain Hilly sadly.
God stubbornly ignored him. "Come on, GUYS! Let's go aft!" They did so, leaving the captain alone with his guilt.
"Psst! Scarry! Wake up!" whispered God, holding a lantern.
Scarry rubbed his eyes. "God? What are you doing here at this hour?"
"I wanna investigate that suspicious hooting!" said God.
"But Captain Hilly said you were imagining things!" argued Scarry.
"You can't just imagine a hoot that real, that visceral." said God passionately. "So are you coming?"
"Is it FAR?" griped Scarry.
"No." said God. "There's a trapdoor a few feet away from here."
"More like a few FARS away." said Scarry.
"Seriously man, you have nothing to fear." insisted God. "There isn't a far for miles."
"Well, okay." said Scarry, getting out of bed. What God didn't tell him was there was actually a far among the ship's crew. She figured it wouldn't notice them. She figured they could take their chances.
She couldn't be more wrong.
"Hagga! Wooga! Wazang!" yelled Johnny Far, jumping out from behind a barrel.
"RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!" screamed God. They booked it into that fuckin' trapdoor, jumping in there and bolting it behind them.
"We're safe." exhaled God, quite relieved.
"Not quite!" shrieked Scarry, holding up the lantern. "SPIDERAMA!" The eight legged bastards were all over the place, crawlin' around like they had somethin' to prove.
"WHITEHAAAAAND..." shouted God, a swirl of white light engulfing her right fist, "SPLITTERRRRRR!" She bashed those damn bugs to kingdom come.
"Good work." complimented Scarry.
"Likewise." she said coolly.
"So he was smuggling some spiders?" asked Scarry. "Was that the secret?"
"No, I think the spiders were... guarding something." said God creepily. "But what?"
She raised the lantern, casting its light around the room. The dim, haunting glow revealed shelves and shelves of...
"Jelly jars." she said, horrified.
"Good god." said Scarry. "There must be a hundred of them!"
"What would a simple sea captain need this kind of firepower for?" asked God, taking one down from a shelf.
"Whatever his motives, this can't be legal." said Scarry.
"Should I open it?" asked God, shaking the jar gently.
"I don't see why not!" said Scarry cheerfully. "What's the harm of a little ole jelly jar?"
As God unscrewed the lid, Scarry had no idea how deeply he would regret those words.
"HOOT!" hooted the jelly as soon as God got the lid off.
"OH MY GOD, I TAKE IT ALL BACK!" repented Scarry.
"Hooting jelly!" cried God. Shocked, she dropped the jar, causing it to shatter terribly. The abominable jam was splattered all over the place, hooting from every surface it clung to.
"IT'S A LIVING NIGHTMARE!" shrieked Scarry.
"Oh my god, Scarry!" said God, an expression of realization on her face. "If you rearrange the letters in Hooting Jelly, you get..."
"So." said a menacing voice from behind them. "You've uncovered my secret."
"...Tone Jog Hilly." finished God.
"Turn around slowly." said the cruel captain. "I've got a cutlass and I'm not afraid to use it."
"He's bluffing." whispered God as they turned around. "Nothing scares him more."
"Wrong!" said Tone Jog Hilly unconvincingly. "There's a lot that scares me more! Such as ghosts, or Frankenstein!"
"You're scared of FRANKENSTEIN?" asked God, unable to believe it. She turned to Scarry and lowered her voice. "This guy's a pushover."
"That was harsh, God." said Scarry, offended. "I'll have you know I LIKE Frankenstein."
"Well, I mean, I'm not saying it isn't a good movie-" started God.
"No no, don't try to sugarcoat it!" said Scarry loudly, crossing his arms and turning away. "I guess Frankenstein just isn't COOL enough for you! Please, FORGIVE my ignorant mortal tongue!"
"Aw c'mon, I didn't mean it like that..." said God apologetically.
Sensing a crack in their allegiance, Captain Hilly attacked when they were at their weakest.
"Shwa! Shwa!" he shouted, thrusting and parrying with his razor-sharp cutlass.
"Careful, Scarry!" said God, dodging the weapon's strikes while pointing at it. "That thing ain't messin' around!"
"There's only one way to know for sure." said Scarry grimly. "Cutlass, are you messing around? You know, just pulling our leg? It's okay if you are. We don't make a habit of judging others around here."
The cutlass hesitated.
"Don't listen to 'em, Cartwright." said Tone Jog Hilly reassuringly. "They're just trying to trick you."
"Yeah right. Get real. I'm God. I don't trick people." said God. "On the contrary, I encourage a balmy kinship among all my pals and associates."
"Sounds kinda nice." said Cartwright dreamily.
"Cartwright, no!" said Captain Hilly. "These low lifes are the enemy!"
"They are?" asked Cartwright. "Funny thing, I never noticed a balmy kinship between US."
"We never needed one!" replied Tone Jog Hilly. "We've had an unsociably arctic kinship since day one!"
"Sorry, but that just isn't enough to satisfy me anymore." said Cartwright. "Maybe when I was just a kid. Maybe when I was just a wee cutlass cub, a-bouncing on your knee. But I'm an ADULT now, Tone Jog! An adult with adult needs, ones that you could never HOPE to fulfill."
Tone Jog Hilly fought back tears as these words assaulted his ears, swinging blindly at the god and scar before him. But it was no use. Cartwright turned upon his master, running him through like the pitiful dog he was. Blood, guts, and intestines sprayed all over the place, mixing with the spilled hooting jelly in repulsive pools of filth.
"That's disgusting!" said God. "Right, Scarry?"
"Eh, sword of." he chuckled.
"I GET IT!" rejoiced God. They jovially square danced the night away.
A FEW WEEKS LATER
"LAND HO!" shouted Skinnyleg Bob from the crow's nest. There the earth was, floatin' in space like a glorious orb.
"Finally! We're here!" said Scarry happily.
"Not quite." said Skinnyleg Bob. "I was just calling Mother Earth names."
"Are we close enough for her to hear you?" asked God.
"I hope so." said Skinnyleg Bob. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called again. "Land ho! Oh, LAAAAND HOOOO!"
"What?" asked Mother Earth.
"Are we cleared for landing?" asked Skinnyleg Bob.
"Where are you coming from?" asked Mother Earth.
"Heaven." replied God.
"What kind of cargo are you carrying?" she asked.
"Oh, you know..." said Skinnyleg Bob, overly casual. "Vitamins, money for the poor, heart transplants... Just the usual stuff..."
"Don't forget hooting jelly!" shouted Scarry.
"Whoa!" said Johnny Far. "Ixnay on the ootinghay ellyjay!"
"Toopytay hooperbay?" asked Scarry.
Johnny Far paused. "That isn't pig latin."
"Yeah huh." said Scarry. "It's a southern dialect."
"Sorry guys." said Mother Earth. "Hooting Jelly is a class A contraband material. I'm afraid you're all going to jail." Some elite members of the Earth's royal guard swarmed the ship and put them all in cuffs.
"And the jelly?" asked Skinnyleg Bob.
"Sunup execution." replied Mother Earth sadly. "It's the law, fellas. My apologies."
All the jelly in the cargo hold began hooting wildly. It seemed to know something was up. However it was powerless to avert its fate as Mother Earth's guards put the jars in big "TO BE EXECUTED" crates.
"Thank god." said God.
"Thanks." complied Scarry.
"They was like family!" said Johnny Far, wiping away some tears.
"Yeah." chuckled God. "ABUSIVE family."
"Nice one." said a guard, giving her a somewhat awkward, handcuff-hampered high five.
And chapter one ends with a sickening bang! What will happen next? Who knows! Is it worth a review? Please say yes! :D