A.N Now, before you read this story, I need to establish something right here, right now. This story is not intended to be offensive. It's not intended to make any religion look stupid. It's just something funny I thought of in response to a prompt. If you don't think that you can handle my slightly unorthodox views of heaven, then I suggest you don't read this story. If you can, read on and make sure you leave me a review telling me what you thought. Okay, I'll stop with the authors' note here.

Chapter One

If revenge is bliss then it follows that bliss is revenge. For us humans a state of constant bliss is commonly known as heaven. So, putting all of this information together, do you see what I see? Do you see that revenge and heaven are words that should be used synonymously? If you can't then you'd better be going to hell, because heaven would just confuse the heck out of you.

Heaven. I'd been here for just over a month now and I have to say, that it is not all it's cracked up to be. If you're expecting fluffy white clouds and a big, nice guy called God, then you can just think again. There are no clouds in heaven; it's basically just a huge flotilla of wood that floats. Think it's not scientifically sound? Get over yourself, this is heaven.

Anyway, God's not what I was expecting either. I was expecting a big guy with a fluffy, long beard and a nice, white robe. Instead, I got a punky teenager who loves Britpunk. That's not saying God's a teenager or anything, that's just the form that he's chosen to take on at the moment. He loves trends and until skinny jeans are out of fashion, that emaciated teen body is all we're going to see.

The other thing about God I didn't expect was the fact that he is one vengeful dude. I mean, it is kind of obvious when you look over a couple of history books - or even the bible - that God really likes his vengeance. There was that thing he did in Egypt, killing all the first-born kids in each family and such. God's message is clear; don't mess around with me or my people.

Up here in heaven though, we're all God's people and, the fact of the matter is, we get bored from time to time. There are no televisions up here, no computers, no internet. Hell, there aren't even any clouds for us to watch rolling by. So what are we supposed to do? Twiddle our spiritually enlightened thumbs, or put them to good use?

We decided on the latter and our idea of good use? Revenge, pranks. I'd have to say, that the best two pranksters in heaven are definitely God and his son Jesus. Jesus, that guy was good, if you'll pardon the pun. This year, though, I was intending to give the guys a run for their money – well, not really since we don't have any money up here, but you get what I mean. I'm going to prank my little heart out and get revenge on everyone in heaven for every little thing they've ever done wrong.

Jesus, for example had annoyed me just last month on Christmas Day, (the day I'd died incidentally) by giving me a bad present. No, really, it was bad and not just averagely bad. He gave me a shoelace. That's right, a single, frigging shoelace (note how I don't swear properly. How else did you think I got up here?) . So, now I'm going to put his shoelace to good use by using it to get back at him.

God too, owes me big-time. That one time when he lost his newly acquired converse shoes - which he'd taken hours to get from Earth - I helped him to find them. The job had taken me hours and hours and hours. And what had I gotten in return? A nod. That's right, a nod. God really was taking his new punk-rocker personality very seriously. In life those annoying little emo kids on the corner block had annoyed the heck out of me and now, with his new attitude, God was too.

Oh and you know who else I was going to get? And this was going to be the best one, St. Peter. Yep, that's right, the guy who lets you in at the gate (it's actually more like a step with a ribbon that he has to lift). So what did Petey do to get me off side you ask? Well, it's not so much what he did as what he didn't do. Peter's like one of those annoying receptionists. When I showed up here, he refused to look up from his long rolls of parchment records no matter how hard I rapped on the wooden table. He made me wait for hours and hours. Then, when he finally decided to pay attention to me, I had to go through my life's history in tedious detail before he'd let me in.

So, what, exactly are my plans? Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?