“Jeff- can you hear me?”
“Yeah. (Chuckles) Where the hell are we?”
“We’re not in Hell, man. We’re just dead. I’m in the grave next door to ya.”
“What!?”
“Yeah, I know. Pretty weird, but already pretty stock. Turns out being dead is pretty much the same as being alive- limited confines not withstanding. But never discount the imagination!”
“Wait, man. Uhhh how did we get here?”
“Oh, you know. Our species’ predilection to self-destruct. Remember the election?”
“Uh, yeah. (More chuckles) That got pretty crazy. The last thing I remember is the missiles in the air.”
“Yep. And that was pretty much that. Care for a drink?”
“But we’re dead, man.”
“Sure we are. We’re dead, blah-blah-blah. But check it out- the imagination is a powerful thing. So let’s roll back the proverbial stone and have a couple of gin & tonics, shall we?”
(Muffled clinking in a mass grave from six feet under the ground.)
