TropeTales #5 - Nostalgia Heaven (Martijn)

No title

It was the year 2070, if you could consider time to pass normally here. Or maybe more importantly, if you could apply a Christian calendar here. The last thing Bobby remembered was falling down his stairs. He was 90 years old and fragile, he shouldn't be able to shrug off a fall like that.

He looked around.

Damn.

He knew this place. It's been years since it was last on his mind, but he knew it all too well. On the left was a hill of sorts. A manageable climb with an opening at the top. A volcano. It wasn't erupting right now but he knew what was gonna come out. At that point it started rumbling. There it was. Beer. Pure beer. On the right was something else entirely. A flashy building, neon lights, written in bold red letters the words “Strip Club”. He couldn't believe his eyes.

At that point people started approaching him. “Our savior!”. “Oh Lord, he finally arrived!”. Some of these people he recognized from a long time ago, most were strangers. “Guys it... it was all a joke!”, Bobby shouted. “It was all a goddamn joke! How can I really be here?!”. “Because you lived according to our Lord's words!”, one of the bystanders exclaimed. “For fuck's sake, I made up those words! And they were just common sense anyway!”, Bobby Henderson replied.

In the year 2005, Bobby Henderson wrote The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster as a satirical response to the teaching of creationism in schools. It was never meant to represent any sort of Truth. As a satirical religious book, it did contain its own version of the Ten Commandments, known as "I'd Really Rather You Didn'ts”, including no-brainers like

“I’d really rather you didn’t use my existence as a means to oppress, subjugate, punish, eviscerate, and/or, you know, be mean to others. I don’t require sacrifices and purity is for drinking water, not people.”

and

“I’d really rather you didn’t judge people for the way they look, or how they dress, or the way they talk, or, well, just play nice, okay? Oh, and get this in your thick heads: woman = person. Man = person. Samey-samey. One is not better than the other, unless we’re talking about fashion and I’m sorry, but I gave that to women and some guys who know the difference between teal and fuchsia.”

It also contained a description of the Spaghetti Monster's Heaven, including... a beer volcano and vast amounts of strippers. In the decades after its publication, Bobby's mock religion gained an actual following. Truth be told, towards the end of his life he wasn't involved in it anymore. Creationism wasn't taught in public schools anymore, and being part of a religious movement went against what he stood for. That was the whole point of the goddamn book.

Several Pastafarians, as the Spaghetti Monster's followers were known, approached Bobby decades ago when he was still in the public eye. He liked his movement back then, it was still silly and fresh and serving the right purpose. He recognized some of those people here in this... was it really Heaven? Most of them were strangers to him, but the colanders on most of their heads gave them away as Pastafarians. “Oh savior Bobby Henderson”, one said, “I had doubts at first, but after I died 35 years ago now I learned Heaven was exactly like you described in the Gospel, I am so happy to finally look you in the eye and thank you for guiding me!”

At that point a shadow was cast over those gathered. Bobby looked overhead, seeing exactly what he expected to see. Strands of spaghetti. Giant meatballs. “Welcome, Bobby Henderson. Words can not express how grateful I am for your work. The people of the Earth were lost in false religions before you spread my word. Your place here in Heaven is well deserved.”

Bobby facepalmed.

Oh well, beer, strippers, people who share his sense of humor. This could be worse.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gospel_of_the_Flying_Spaghetti_Monster