"Why didn't you respond to any of my calls?" I asked Derek and John. The twins looked at eachother, then looked back at me. They were trying to make up an excuse for disappearing for six months without telling me or answering my calls and emails.

"Um...we were vacationing," said Derek.

"Vacationing? Where!"

"We were in the tropics. On an island off the coast of Tahiti. It is really beautiful." said John.

"And you didn't tell me! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Derek and John both took a step forward at exactly the same time to comfort me. All it did was creep me out. "I can't even count the number of times you've done things like this! I thought you guys were my friends."

Before they could answer, I stormed out of the cafe and onto the streets. Damn it, I had to get away from them. They had always gotten on my nerves a little, but this was just...over the line. There were times when I had felt like calling the police to report missing people. I couldn't think about it right now; I would find them tomorrow and reason it out with them.

The next day, I got up, made myself a cup of coffee, and went to work. I had an office job in the city, managing the merging of the wealth of wealth management firms. I know, sounds pretty boring. It is.

And even though I had told myself I would find the twins today, I actually found myself avoiding the places that I thought they might be.

The twins were together almost all of the time. They had home lives separate, but other than that, they were almost like the same person. And they went to the same places almost every day, so I knew where to not go.

I got home and made myself dinner. I was single, which at this moment I truly resented. I really craved a nice delicious salmon instead of ravioli from a package. As I went to bed, I realized how much Derek and John meant to me. I also realized that there was a good chance they would never be my friends again.

The next several days passed uneventfully. Tuesday...Wednesday...Thursday. I pushed my way through the work week, the weekend a tantalizing reward ahead of me. I pushed all thoughts of the twins out of my head. I had a pretty ordinary week.

Until Friday.

On Friday morning, I was woken up by my telephone instead of the alarm clock. I sat up, blinked my eyes, and answered the phone. It was my coworker. "Hello?" I said.

"Hi there, this is Steve."

"Hi, Steve, why call me this early in the morning? I'm at the alley right next to my house."

"My car is not starting. Can you drive me to work today?"

"'Course, Steve!" I said. "I'll be on my way as soon as I can."

"Sorry for the inconvenience, man."

"No problem!"

I got up, took a quick shower, got my clothes on, had some cereal, and jumped into the car. I drove to said alley, and stepped out of the car. I took a quick glance into the alley. There was no sign of Steve.

"Steve?" I called out. No answer. "Steve, I'm serious, man. Where are you?" Still no answer. I decided to walk up the steps to his front door and knock. I waited a few seconds, still no answer. What the hell was going on. "Steve, this isn't funny."

I sat down on the steps to wait for him. I decided I would only wait a few minutes, then leave. If Steve was trying to prank me, he wasn't being funny.

I heard a sound on the step above me, and then a sharp pin-prick feeling in my left arm, not unlike getting a shot. Whoa, are these bees?, was my first reaction. My second reaction was to turn around; to look at whoever was behind me. But my vision was blurry; all I saw was a fuzzy figure standing in front of Steve's house. I'd never been stung by a bee; this have been an allergic reaction to bees. Or that guy might have stabbed me with a needle.

The only thing I knew was that within ten seconds, I was passed out cold.

I woke up to nothing but silence. I felt the hard cold ground beneath me and the cool air around me, but didn't have the energy to open my eyes. When I finally found that energy and pried my eyes open, I knew instantly where I was. I was in an airplane. I was tied to one of the seats, and for some reason, all the windows were sealed shut.

What the hell is going on, I thought. Did Steve capture me? Was he a terrorist? Was he going to kill me? Was I powerless to stop the next 9-11?

No. Steve was sitting right across the alley from me. He was tied up very securely too. And from the looks of it, he was just waking up too.

"Hey Steve! Do you have any idea what is going on?"

"Not a clue, man," he said. "One moment I was in my bathroom and then everything was blurry and I woke up here."

"So that's why you weren't in the alley like you said you would be."

This seemed to stump him for a second. "Um...yeah. Yeah, that's why I wasn't there in the alley."

I looked around the cabin. The door to the cockpit had been pulled down, so we couldn't see the pilots or where we were going. All the windows were shut or just for decoration for some reason. Behind me was a door that seemed to go to the bathroom, but the only label it had was a sign that said, "PROPERTY OF NASA"

"Wait a minute," said Steve. "They stole this plane from NASA?"

"I can't imagine how they would do that," I said. It was pretty clear that we had been kidnapped by terrorists, but how did these terrorists acquire a NASA plane? Two thoughts flashed through my mind. 1: We're in the hands of some very powerful people. 2: Derek and John have very close ties at NASA.

Wait a minute, could Derek and John be behind this? No. They could be obnoxious flakes, but there was no way they would capture me and put me on a plane to who-knows-where. And why were Steve and I even on the plane in the first place?

At that moment, the door to the cockpit opened, and two middle-eastern men with huge curly beards and thick heads of curly hair burst into the cabin, guns raised. "We are Safavid and Aladeen," said the one I assumed was Safavid in a very over-the-top middle eastern accent. "And you have information that we want."

Aladeen (who looked very similar to Safavid) spoke now. "We will untie you, but if you show any sign of resistance, we will kill you."

I wondered what information they wanted from us, but I didn't dare ask. I let them untie me and watched them untie Steve. They led us into the cockpit and let us look at where we were going. We were flying over an idyllic green landscape dotted with farmhouses here and there.

"Now," said Aladeen (I think). "We want to know where the White House is."

"What!" I blurted out. That was not the question I thought they were going to ask me. Although I shouldn't have been surprised.

"Listen," said Safavid. " Either we head straight into New York and you die, or we head straight into the White House. But if you tell us where the White House is, there is a 50 percent that we will give you a parachute and you can escape the plane.

"All right," I said, trying not to cry. I always thought these things happened to someone else. But unfortunately, we're all someone else to someone else. "Washington D.C is where the White House is."

"Thank you," said Aladeen. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a die. "If the number is over 3, I will let you go."

He tossed it high into the air, and it landed on the ground. I glanced over to look at the number that was facing up, and cringed.

2.

The next few hours felt like a blur. Being about to die tends to do that to you. Steve and I were tied up inside the cockpit, totally helpless, being forced to watch the flight to D.C without anything to do about it.

"All right, there it is," said Safavid. "Prepare for landing."

Both of the middle eastern people laughed. Didn't they care about dying as well? Apparently not.

We descended into the city, and as I looked down, I realized that none of the cars were moving. Or the little tiny people specks, for that matter. They had probably all stopped to photograph the crazy low-flying plane.

"All right, there's our building. 10...9...8..7...6...5..." I watched with utter hopelessness as the plane descended on the whitehouse. "3...2...1..."

I didn't even feel the impact. I saw Safavid get behind me and grab something out of his pocket. What was he doing?

"...0," said Aladeen. The plane shuddered a little bit, and then everything was white.

Everything stayed that way for a while. I saw the blurry images of faces, shadows, and lines, all over a layer of white. Was I dying? Was this what dying was like?

When I finally came to, I found myself on a cold marble floor, looking at somebody's feet. When I looked up, I realized that I was actually looking at...

I jumped to my feet. "Oh my god...you're God!" I was standing next to a tall man with a long gray beard and white robes.

God nodded. "You are right. Welcome to the heavenly room."

"Wait, what about the pearly gates? Don't I go there first and meet with St. Peter? And where's Steve?"

"Steve is in a different heavenly room. And...um...well...yes, the Pearly Gates."

Had I just stumped God?

"The Pearly Gates...yes...they're under maintenance. There were some...sewer problems."

"Ah," I said. There were sewer problems in Heaven? "So, what do I do in the heavenly room?"

"Why, you watch your funeral, of course," said God. "Now you should get to the heavenly computer, over there. You're funeral is about to start. We have had the heavenly computers since the beginning of creation."

"But aren't funerals weeks after the person has died?"

"Yes," said God. "But this is more of a eulogy by a few friends of yours."

Intrigued, I walked up to the heavenly computer and took a look at it. "Funny, this looks an awful lot like the new iMac to me," I said to God.

"That's where you're wrong, mortal," said God. "Steve Jobs stole the design from us."

"But how did he get into heaven? And the new one is designed by Tim Cook."

"No it isn't!" shouted God. "Steve Jobs designed it before he died, and it was just released under Tim Cook."

I shook my head. I couldn't believe I was getting into an argument with God over computers. I sighed. "Well, I guess I'd better watch my eulogy."

The screen flickered to life, and I watched a streaming live image of a lawn that looked very familiar. The lawn was cut up to say "R.I.P-" and then my name. Rats...I was hoping I would at least get a tombstone. But I guess a cut-up lawn would have to do.

I realized that this was Derek's house the moment Derek stepped out onto the lawn, followed by John. Very solemnly-almost too solemnly-they walked across the lawn to a rock, where Derek stepped up first.

I began to feel my throat swell up. I didn't bother to think of why they were doing a eulogy when it was just the two of them there; all I was thinking about was how great they were. Yes, they were flakes, but they were totally awesome flakes.

"I would like to begin," said Derek, "By thanking our dear departed friend for all the amazing things he did for us. John and I, no matter what we do or where we go, have always thought of him, every single day. He was our best friend, death isn't going to change anything between us. John, I'll hand it to you."

Derek stepped down off the rock and John stepped up. He wiped a tear from his eye and began to speak. "I used to be a bad person. I was into drugs, you know, heading down the wrong path. But then I met the person who changed my life." His face began to quiver. At first I thought he was about to cry, but it didn't quite look like that. "He came in and he...and he...he helped."

John burst into laughter. He turned to Derek. "I just can't do it anymore! I just can't."

I jumped off the chair and turned to where God had been standing. "What the hell is this? Are you trying to punish me? To make me feel miserable! Huh! Is that..." I stopped mid-sentence, realizing I was talking to a blank white wall. And the wall wasn't anything special. I was surprised I hadn't noticed that earlier. It sure didn't look like a heavenly room.

And God hadn't teleported anywhere. I realized that lining the wall was a flight of stairs down. God must have left while I was watching my funeral. What a weird sentence.

I walked down the stairs, rounded a corner, and continued down another flight of stairs.

And then I did a double take.

The heavenly room was actually Derek's attic. It had just been painted white, cleaned up, and some linoleum had been laid over the floor. It hadn't been marble; that was just my delusional mind. Just linoleum.

Was Heaven Derek's house? It was nicer than usual, but there was still underwear strewn around his bedroom. Maybe Hell? Well, not bad enough. So what was the situation?

I walked down another flight of stairs to the dining room level. It was just a dining room. Not gold. Not crawling with demons. Just a dining room. Kind of somewhere in the middle of Heaven and Hell. Purgatory maybe. Wait, no, that was a Jazz Club called House of Wolves. So where was I?

I walked out the front door...and stopped in my tracks.

There were Derek and John, sitting on the rock, chatting away. They didn't notice me yet. Between them and me was the cut-up lawn.

When they saw me, they were shocked at first, and then smiled. "How did you like my middle-eastern garb?" asked John.

I stood there, frozen in shock. "That's right, I'm Aladeen. You seriously fell for that one, didn't you? April fools, buddy!"

"How did you...how did you...You didn't actually destroy the White House, did you?"

"Sure did!" said John. When he was greeted by silence from me, he added, "Just kidding, man. You're so frickin' gullible it's not even funny."

"We went to our friends at NASA and said we had a special project, and we needed to borrow a state of the art flight simulator," said Derek. "Then we drugged you and dragged you onto the plane, then drugged you again the moment we 'crashed'. It was a really powerful drug."

I just stood there, smiling. "And...you did this all for me?"

"Absolutely, my friend," said John. "And it was the coolest April Fool's prank I've ever pulled."

"WE'VE ever pulled," added Derek.

"And, what happened to Steve?" I asked. This was the last thing I needed to work out.

"Oh," said Derek. "Steve was God. He left while you were watching your eulogy to go to a meeting."

"You guys are the coolest people ever."