At the Pearly Gates

I blame too much Voltaire. But what can I say, I do it all because I'm evil ;)

The bells of heaven are ringing
 Out loud and clear and primal.
The angels stream down to the gates
To greet some new arrivals.

At the back o' the line, I'm waitin'
Lookin' round awkwardly.
They've met some funny sorts, but I,
I doubt they're ready for me.

The angel at the roster,
In his robes so white and pale,
He smiles at me and asks to hear
My mortuary tale.

I shift my feet and snicker,
My face, it burns bright red.
I'm mortified, I want to die, but
I'm already dead.

And so it comes together,
Of how, in Chemistry,
I had a little mishap and
Got blown to smithereens.

Saint Peter gives me funny looks,
He thinks I might be mad.
And Michael  he just laughs and points,
Because he's sure I am.

The angels laughed their heads off,
God's in hysterics too.
He shakes my hand and says, "Well,
That was bright of you."

But did they let me in, you ask,
Well, unfortunat'ly,
They thought I might be trouble so,
They dropped me in the sea.

Got picked up by a cruiser,
Which I waved down in panic,
However, not so great for me,
It was the damn Titanic.

So here I am, in line again,
With a whole new tale to tell.
If this keeps up, I'll pack it up,
And get some peace in hell!


The End

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