Writing for Fun
February 2017
Another World - Bob Wendelkin
The operating theatre was brightly lit and the patient was in the hands of the anesthetist as he injected the drugs into the veins on the man’s arm.
‘Just count to ten,’ instructed the anesthetist.
‘One, two, three, four, ah, ah five,’ replied the patient as the drugs took hold and unconsciousness took over his body.
‘He’s all yours,’ said the anesthetist to the surgeon.
‘This man has a serious condition and has only a 50/50 chance of coming out of this operation but without this operation he has no chance. So wish him luck,’ said the surgeon as he crossed his fingers as he called for the scalpel.
The surgeon made his incision into the patient’s chest and exposed the ribs.
‘Rib cutter and spreader please.’
The surgeon opened the chest to expose the man’s heart.
‘Heavy Duty Positronic Nerve Grinder,’ joked the surgeon to help relieve the tension.
‘We are losing him,’ said the anesthetist with urgency in his voice.
‘He’s gone,’ continued the anesthetist.
The surgeon then tried all the techniques to revive the patient.
As he tried the ghostly figure of the patient started to rise from the operating table and walked to the side of the theatre where a hooded figure was waiting for him.
‘Over here, boyo,’ said the figure with a very heavy Welsh accent.
The patient, still looking around, made his way over to the hooded figure.
‘Who are you,’ enquired the patient.
‘Oh, I’m here to collect the newly dead and take them to the clearing station where they can be booked in and assigned to the proper place.’
‘I didn’t know that collectors were Welsh.’
‘Oh business is so heavy these days that God has had to contract the work out to agencies. I’m with the Welsh Agency. I’m Die the Death’ replied the hooded figure.
With that the hooded figure took hold of his customer and both began to ascend upwards faster and faster. ‘I’m going to heaven, am I?’ asked the man.
‘Too early to say, boyo, I’m only instructed to collect you and take you to the clearing station where your eventual destination is decided.’
‘By God?’
‘No, boyo, the human race has expanded so much beyond his expectation that he can’t cope. Now he has put it all out to agency workers.’
Up they went until they arrived at a vast hall. It was gently lit with warm light and music was being quietly played. There were very long queues of men women and children lined up and waiting their turn at the counters. At the counters agency angels were standing with bored looks on their faces as they questioned the newly dead.
‘Why are there separate queues for men and women? Aren’t souls all equal?’
‘Oh yes boyo, but that is on the other side of the counter.’
‘But why are there separate queues this side?’
‘At one time the queues were mixed then God went down to earth on one of his visits. It was the Supermarket Checkouts that caused the change. He found that many ladies seemed totally surprised that they had to pay for the goods. Only after packing the goods would they plunge their hands into their bags to search for the money, causing long delays. Most men he found had the money in their hands before they had to pay. He even found that sometimes the man was out of the Supermarket before the lady who was in front of him at the checkout. So to help out, God separated men and women and put twice as many angels to look after the ladies, even so they still have the longest queues. Anyway you are next,’ said the Angel of Death as he departed to collect his next body.
‘Have you got all your bits?’ asked the angel.
‘What bits do you mean?’
‘Look when you were born you were issued with a complete set of bits that make up the Human body. All these bits have to be checked in as God is very keen on recycling. Any missing bits have to be accounted, missing bits have to be paid for by time in Purgatory. Now have you got everything you were issued?’
‘I have had my knees and hip replaced and I did have my appendix removed when I was a boy, and my teeth fixed, oh, I had cataract operation and my gallbladder was removed.’
‘Did you ask the surgeons for the bits that had been removed?’
‘No, I didn’t know I had to.’
‘You are typical of the victims of the Medical Profession, they cut and carve but never think that these are your bits and that you may be accountable for them. It’s only been a major problem that started in the 19th century. Before that the doctors only just cut off the occasional limb. Now they think it cleaver to interfere in every part of the body without any regard to how it will affect God’s recycling programme. In the old days it was mainly a problem of missing bits for Jewish Men.’
‘Can I go back and see if I can find them, they must be somewhere.’
‘No they burn them. If they were of any interest you might find them in a glass jar pickled in alcohol in some museum. No you are here and so let me see what penalty you have to pay,’ replied the Angel as he began to total up the time to pay for the missing bits.
‘While you are doing that you can you tell me why that old lady seems so bent over with worry, she seems to have all the worries of the world on her shoulders.’
‘Oh that’s Old Mother Nature. The poor lady. God has given her instructions that as Mankind is destroying the planet by his over use of its resources, she was told to reduce the number of human beings. The only trouble is that as soon as she finds a method Mankind finds a way of thwarting her. She had used Plague, Ebola, Malaria, and Small Pox and many other diseases but they have been pushed back by the medical profession. So that disease takes fewer people, now she has to rely on more cruel method that of slow starvation.’
‘I didn’t realize that these diseases were there for control purposes to preserve the planet. Any idea what her next plan will be?’
‘Well I heard that she is thinking of reducing the number of females being born, as it’s females that produce the children, fewer females means fewer children.’
‘I can see that being popular with a certain type of poof, sorry, I mean man.’
‘Well God hasn’t sanctioned that method yet as he loves the ladies. Anyway we are here to sort you out not sort out mankind. You have quite a few bits missing, not altogether your fault but the fault of the medical profession. However, you will have to serve a century in Purgatory making the replacements.’
Just then Die the Death returned and took hold of his arm.
‘The doctors are at it again and you may not be due here at this time Boyo. I’ve got to take you back just in case,’ said the Angel of Death.
‘You mean that I won’t be going to Purgatory just yet?’
‘Doesn’t look like it Boyo.’
‘You only have a couple more minutes to bring him back,’ said the anesthetist to the surgeon who had his hands deep in his patient’s chest as he massaged his heart.
‘Oh, it looks like you are going back, I expect I’ll see you in the future sometime, good luck,’ said the Angel of Death as he began to fade.
‘Thank you for looking after me up there. See you again.’
The patient’s heart started to beat and his lungs began to fill.
‘My word this one’s a strong one, I thought for a moment that had I lost him but I knew I could save him,’ said the surgeon as he congratulated himself.
‘Not with you doing the operation,’ said the anesthetist in a most servile manner, as he wanted to become a surgeon and join the surgeon’s team and help to prolong the health of mankind and the destruction of the planet.