Bill Clinton's Amazing Adventures Through Space
by Jay M. Allbritton

Free Excerpt (Part V)

            Randolph opened his eyes and did not recognize his surroundings.  He was standing in a dark hallway.  He turned to look behind him.  He was staring at a brick wall.  With no other option, he walked down the hall and hung a right.   

            He came into a large room, which looked like a bank lobby and was equally pristine.  Three tellers, all species that Randolph had never before seen, sat at stations behind a large counter.  The teller on the right, who seemed vaguely feminine, waved him over to her with a slimy purple tentacle.

            “May I help you?”

            “Yeah, can you tell me where I am?”

            “This is customer service, sir.”

            “Customer service for what?”

            “The afterlife, sir.”

            Randolph looked around.  Well, this is an improvement over the floating into the light routine.

            “So, I’m dead?” he asked.

            “What’s your number, honey?”  Oddly enough this purple woman, who looked like a cross between an octopus, a gargoyle and a bottlenose dolphin, sounded like she was from Arkansas.

            “Number?” he shrugged, “My social security number?”

            “Unt-unnh.  Your afterlife identification number.”            

            “I haven’t got one.”

            “Do you have any ID at all?”

            Randolph wasn’t entirely sure if he had pants on.  He looked down to see what he was wearing.  Jeans.  In the back pocket he found his wallet.  He rifled through pictures and credit cards for a moment and found his driver’s license.  He passed it to the clerk.

            “Yeah, I don’t know what this is.” She asked.

            “That’s my diver’s license.”

            She shrugged, took the card and fed it into a slot on her computer.  Whistling a tune that sounded vaguely like Sinatra’s My Way, she waited.  After a couple of off-key bars she said, “Ok, Mr. Heath, you are not dead but rather here on a one day pass.”  A laminated card and his license spit out of the slot.  The receptionist caught each with a different tentacle and handed them to Randolph.

            The laminated card had words from some strange language typed in five neat lines.  Randolph shoved them both into his back pocket.  “That’s good to know.”

            “Yeah, besides, if you were dead, you would have gone though the relaxation process.  You would have floated toward this great light with some ponderous voice in your ear for what seems like an eternity before popping out here.  I had to do that when I died.”

            “You’re dead.”

            She nodded.

            “I’m so sorry,” Randolph said.

            “It’s okay.  I’m not supposed to tell you this, but being dead is like, way better.  Don’t tell nobody, 'kay?”

            “Kay.”

            The receptionist quickly examined her computer screen.  “I see here that you are expected to see a Dr. Omi Querden.  He’ll call you when he’s ready for you.”

            “Call me?”

            “One second,” the receptionists said, holding up a tentacle.  She pressed a series of buttons and something grey sprayed from the same slot that produced his day pass.  The grey liquid congealed on the desk into something very much like a cell phone.  She handed it to Randolph.

            “Ok, you’re all set.  Just hold onto your day pass in case you’re stopped.  Also, you can use it to get free admission to the musical ‘The Afterlife is the Life for Me’.  I saw it twice.  It’s okay.”

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