[ WP ] Reaching paradise after you die is n't about how good you were or if you sinned . All that matters is if you pass the test .

It was described like a Rorschach Blot test only the cards were either all black or all white. She asked me to'describe what I saw' on the card. She, Linda, the Senior Assistant Assistant to Saint Peter, who, for lack of clarity was no where to be found. Neither was the Senior Assistant to Peter. When she introduced herself to me, she left her hand out to shake but, asked not to touch her just'mock' the shake... Something about germs, in the afterlife, apparently, peoples neurosis carry-over like a birthmark left on the soul. Or perhaps a neurosis is the carry over of the soul in the body, or both or I do n't know what the fuck I'm saying but what have you... 
 
 I mocked the'hand-shake', Linda, the Senior Assistant Assistant sat down on the pleather beige couch across the Ikea designed coffee table that had USWeekly, National Geographic and something about Apps to download, like a pan-flit. I did n't have my cell but maybe the Apps pertain only to those who get the'Green Card' to pass over. Yeah, she called it a'Green Card'... I was yet again, testing for a Green Card, side note: I'm Icelandic but I was born ( before I died ) in New Jersey during a time in which my mother was dating this guy named Marcos, who for what I was told, was some kind of Military Chemical- Engineer who moved around a lot because he had some shit he sold to Canada that was classified at the time. Something that made it hard to trace alcohol on one's breath. Anyway... 
 
 `` Badger?'' Linda asked unsure, my name she meant... 
 
 `` Yeah...'', I responded. I can always tell when someone has that thought about my name, they always look back at the name on the paper, like the name was going to suddenly read'just kidding'... 
 
 `` How was your trip?'' Linda smiled. Is this a joke? Or did I miss something? 
 
 `` Trip?'' I asked. Linda smiled some more. She did n't or did she ever in the fifteen minutes we were together in that room, that God awfully lit room with the fucking beige couch and that coffee table, and pictures of what looked like Motivational Posters framed on the walls, clarify her thoughts. I'm not sure if this was just her, or this was protocol... But fucking-a, its stressful. 
 
 `` I-uh-well-okay, so I was in the pool, and I remember the pool, and I dove in and then I heard this noise, like a'click' noise and then I saw my mom's vagina, no joke, then I saw Jackie who I lost my virginity to at the abandoned morgue down the street from my Aunt's house, and then I was outside waiting in the line, outside here... that, that's all I remember...'', I trailed off, some postmortem-amnesia syndrome. That's Linda's assessment. 
 
 `` Well, Badger, you died. In that pool.' Linda stopped, she smiled again. 
 
 A slight but what felt like about three hours worth of an awkward pause before I said anything, `` Um, how did I die exactly?'' I asked. 
 
 Linda, still smiling, pulled out the blank black and white cards. She set them on top of the Us Weekly... 
 
 `` Well, the moment you dove into the pool, the Telephone wire had disconnected precisely when you dove in, and needless to say the Telephone wire slingshot into the pool, that click noise, was the very first second of contact. You fried for a good thirty minutes before your girlfriend came out to find you...''. Linda still smiling... 
 
 I, me, shocked, angry, baffled and then... Wait, that's right! The fucking Telephone wire in the backyard, the one I've been yelling at my landlord about... Jesus fucking Christ, it actually happened... my girlfriend by the way was the reason I moved back to America, but as far away from Jersey I could afford, Nevada. 
 
 `` I see...'' I said in regards to Linda's'death synopsis'. I started biting my nails again. Linda reached over to grab the Cards. she held them in her hands, toying with them with her acrylic nails. 
 
 `` Badger, here we have a test, a simple but important test. No, there's no Libra Scale or judgement passed or any sort of Indoctrinated Process of God's criteria for permissible souls, just a test. We're not very fundamental. More academic if anything. The test, I have in my hand, goes like this: I hold up a card and you tell me what you see. Understand?'' Linda, smiling... 
 
 `` Rorschach? Right?'', I asked, Linda smiling and nodding... `` Okay, shoot...''. Linda shuffled the cards and then held one up. 
 
 I stared at it, I was n't sure if she was pulling a fast one. 
 
 `` It's blank. Its just all white...'' I said. 
 
 `` Is that what you see?'' Linda asked. 
 
 `` Oh, wait that's the card?? I thought --'', Linda turned down the card and held up a new one, another all blank white one. 
 
 `` That was n't my answer though... that was a question.'' I said firmly. My soul was at stake. These cards meant everything. And Linda just keeps smiling... She wiggled the card before me, as if to keep me on track and to avoid backtracking or explaining anything, which I now know, Linda is a master at. 
 
 `` Uh-Uh- a toothpaste!'' I blurted out. Toothpaste? I did n't even see that. It just came up. Linda turns down the card, holds up another, blank but black card. 
 
 `` uh-uh-uh a pumpkin with, uh, no, shit...'' I'm failing, I know it. Linda turns down the card. Another... 
 
 `` fuck me, a fucking uh-I do n't know, Linda, its all black!'' I'm definitely going to hell. She turns down the card, and again, another... 
 
 `` uh -- uh-oh, oh a bike. A god damn bike.'' I say, Linda smiles, turns down the card, yet another... 
 
 `` uh, you know, a pair of titties, I mean why not?'' I'm just throwing this shit away, Sorry soul, I'm so sorry, I mean what do want from me? I tried. I really did... Linda holds up another... 
 
 I stare at this one, longer than the others, I suddenly feel like I may still have a shot at redemption, `` Jesus Christ on the cross''. Okay, I'm definitely becoming Satan's cock bitch. 
 
 Linda gathers all the cards. she writes notes down on the back of one of them. She then puts the small bundle in her pocket. 
 
 `` Well, Badger, now I just need to bring this data to the office and I'll be with you shortly...'' Linda turns to go but not before smiling as she does. I watch Linda walk the thirty feet from the beige couch to the rustic door... 
 
 My foot is dancing, my nails are down to slivers and I just keep thinking about that Telephone pole back home. 
 
 edited for spelling and length.
