"The Judgment of Harry Punch"

As The Cynic Online Magazine has had this story for a month, and thus I have allowed them their first electronic publication rights as per our agreement, I feel it appropriate to now post this on my own site. I got the inspiration for this show watching Inside the Actor’s Studio when Robin Williams was on the show. The moderator asked him the question: If you go to heaven, what would you like to hear God say? Robin Williams then responded with the basic joke of this story. I won’t relate it now as that would give it away, but here it is: “The Judgment of Harry Punch.”

On Thursday morning, early, after ditching a beautiful blonde, Harry Punch climbed into his freshly minted Porsche convertible for the last time. He never saw the stretched Hummer blow through the red light. Nor did he see the news coverage of his funeral, an impressive spectacle mobbed by Hollywood's finest gowns and tuxes. But most importantly Harry Punch missed the reading of his will, and the parceling of his considerable estate to various battered women's charities, organizations to which he contributed quite generously in life, if one considers victims a contribution.

Perhaps what surprised Harry Punch the most about death, were the pearly gates, great big shiny bars that seemed to rise into infinity, and the fact that St. Peter let him walk right through without a single question.

Comedian that he was, Harry Punch found irony in the reversal of his life-long expectations. Ever since he lost his virginity at the age of fifteen to a meaty brunette (Harry remembered women by the color of their hair) he knew God would never let him into Heaven. Every year he received further confirmation of this fact from the sisters at St. Jude's Jesuit school, and the clergy at his parish, or at least he did until his parents kicked him out, and he took the opportunity to remove himself from the church.

Thus it was that Harry Punch ventured into the midst of the Heavenly Host and cringed as their golden trumpets roared an anthem reminiscent of John Phillips Sousa. As he ducked his head and covered his ears he spotted a shaded door in a dark corner and hurried towards it. Whatever lurked on the other side couldn't be worse than the over bright decoration and perky inhabitants he had seen so far.

As soon as he stepped through the door into a dimly lit, smoke filled...bar, Harry Punch loosed a peal of laughter. Not only was Heaven filled with irony, it held its share of cliches as well. Worse still, a short bald man stood on a stage with a microphone in his hand, "Mr. Punch, welcome."

Harry Punch blinked and realized the fat man on the stage spoke to him. "Thank you, I think."

"No thanks are necessary Harry, we've been waiting for you," the man on stage waved to a chair beside a chubby redhead, "Have a seat."

"I think I'd prefer one at the bar."

The man on stage laughed, and the scattered crowd did the same. "I'm sorry Harry, we don't serve alcohol here, not in your Heaven."

"No booze in Heaven?" Harry Punch shook his head and retreated to the door. It was locked. "What's going on?"

"Have a seat Harry, eternity's a long time to stand."

"But-"

The man on stage who upon further inspection resembled Danny Devito shook his head and grinned. "We've devised a special place for your kind Harry, a place filled with special tortures for your special sins. So have a seat and we'll get on with the show."

"Show?"

The man on stage nodded. "The sooner you sit, the sooner we start."

"But-"

"Yes, that's what I'm asking you to use," the man on stage said and the audience rumbled with appreciative laughter.

Harry tried the door one more time before he slumped his shoulders and trudged to the offered seat. As he settled into the hard backed chair he leaned to the redhead and asked, "Who is this guy?"

She didn't move, just whispered through the corner of her mouth, "God."

"God, this jerk is God? Danny Devito is God?"

The red head nodded slowly as God stepped to center stage and raised the microphone to his mouth. "Two Jews walked into a bar..."