daniel curser – chapter two

Now when most people think of Heaven
They see those pearly gates
But I looked a little closer
And there’s a sign that says “Do Not Skate.”
- OPM, Heaven is a Halfpipe

At this point, I must say that I do like Daniel Curser.
I don’t mean I like him as a subject, or that I find him as merely a source of amusement. No, I mean I really like him. He’s like a puppy which had been searching all its life for the perfect chew toy, and upon finding it, refused to give it up for anyone.
When he was young, Mister Curser was known for following lost causes. He would rant and rave to anyone who would listen about the terrors of Big Companies, of the conspiracies involved with members of High Government, and he would cry when he watched the news to find such countries as America were bombing countries whose greatest technological achievements were still the little system of hand-pumped mechanisms used to suck muddy water from deep dry soil.
I have to say, in many instances, I agreed with him.
In such instances, one cannot in good conscience, I believe, even think of disagreeing with the wisdom of this man. He was sensitive, polite, and deeply devoted to his private dream of one day escaping the planet in the back of a passing UFO.
He might have been a poet, if he knew how to write such a thing. He might have been a painter, but he wasn’t very good with his hands. He might have been anything.
Unfortunately, all he could say he had become was Daniel Curser.
So, let us now leave behind the lifeless flesh of this poor wretch and instead follow his soul as it zooms upward.
Oh? What? You don’t believe in souls?
Well, no wonder you didn’t see it escaping his body right at the point the hot bullet was spat into the space between his ears where his brain should have been were it not quickly exiting through his forehead like a crowd of screaming villagers pursued by a ravenous Bengali Tiger.
Oh, dear. That did sound a bit insensitive, didn’t it?
I do hope for Mister Curser’s sake he never reads this.
I couldn’t bear for him to think I was kicking a puppy when he’s down.

Daniel Curser’s soul was, like his life, a flimsy little thing.
It twisted and turned, writhing in the wind as it made it way like a flag up a flagpole toward the dreamy realm of Heaven.
Oh, yes, there is such a place, I assure you.
Up a little, and to your right. If the moon isn’t obscuring your view, then you shouldn’t be able to miss it even without a telescope.
What?
You can’t see it?
What’s wrong with you? Are you blind?
Oh well, never mind that for now. Just try to follow along. I’m sure it will all become clear to you very soon.
What? You saw a bit of a flicker out of the corner of your eye?
Absolutely marvellous.
I’m sure you’ve just made your mother very proud.
No, don’t take it like that! Just relax. It’s not you we’re talking about. It’s Daniel. Mister Curser.
I see he’s starting to get the hang of this rising thing.
I think he’s just starting to realise that his body’s not quite with him anymore.
And, because tonight the moon is out, he can see the light at the end of what he thinks is a tunnel. I do so love the way nature intervenes sometimes to make things a lot easier. I mean, fancy trying to find Heaven on a really dark night such as this. You’ve just had your brains traumatised by a rather large bullet, and nothing’s making much sense, and then you have to find your way to Heaven without any roadsigns or traffic lights or anything. Not even a local to sell you a map or direct you to the nearest tourist office.
I do think there should be a tourist office along the way.
With a nice young helpful smiling face pleasantly informing you that yes, you are quite dead, and please take the elevavator to your right if you’ve been good, and the one to the left if you’ve been a little naughty. If you’re not sure, please check with the manager. He’ll check your reservation.
Feel free to take from the minibar while you wait.
Maybe there’s someone we can talk to about making that idea a reality. I do think it is simply a smashing idea. Don’t you?
So, do you see him now? Have I let your eyes get adjusted enough?
Yes?
Oh, you do see him!
That’s simply terrific!
Yes, he is doing cartwheels!
I imagine he’s thinking everything’s so much better now.
Everything is going to be great.
He no doubt hopes he’s going to meet God, and he can ask all his favourite questions.
Like, why do people hate each other so much yet say they don’t?
Why are people scared of spiders?
Who did steal my favourite dinner jacket that night back in ’89?
Well, I do envy him his optimistic joy right now. In fact, it is his optimisim in the face of hopeless odds which is his greatest quality. Don’t you agree?
Let us not interrupt his celebration. It’s just so nice to follow close and watch Mister Curser flip and fly.
Let him have his little moment of happiness.
Although, I do admit to feeling a little sorry for the poor fellow.
Afterall, such happiness, for those such as he, never lasts very long.
Why?
Yes, I agree he’s such an inoffensive fellow. Surely, you say, it cannot get much better than this for him? To go up to the dizzying heights of Heaven. To visit the green pastures of paradise which are, and I am so delighted to let you know, completely Sound of Music free.
Because, and this I know will surprise you a great deal, poor Mister Daniel was destined not for elevator number one, but for elevator number two.
But, on the positive side, I’m told the slippery slide downward to the depths of Hell can be quite a ride indeed. Much better than your average rollercoaster!
I so hope he sees that journey as a bit of a plus.
I know I do.

On arriving at the cloudy platform surrounding the Gates of Heaven, Daniel Curser was deeply impressed.
His soul slowly seemed to solidify, and you can now make out his features.
Unfortunately, he’s still dressed in the dirty clothes he wore on the day he died.
Let’s hope he soon finds new ones, because he truly does look very tragic indeed. Almost like something which got lost in a crowd at the zoo before being accidently pushed into the chimpanzee display and used as a bouncy toy until rescued by zookeepers desperately battling their laughter more than they battled the possessive chimpanzees.
Please don’t smile at that one. It almost happened to the poor fellow.
Do you like the Gates? Are they gold enough for you?
Yes, that really is true gold.
They were a gift from an American TV Evangelist.
A thoughtful gesture, I think. They used to be made of wood, you know. Quite dull indeed. I do hope that, somewhere in the future, someone thinks to make a gift of something with neon in it. I do think a nice neon sign would fit in quite nicely here.
Something cheerful.

Mister Curser stepped up to the gates, trembling at the magnificence of the whole thing, and gently pressed the small button inserted into one of the dusty grey pillars.
His eyes were wide and if he were a snail they would be fully-extended indeed. And, as the huge gates swung effortlessly open, he would have zipped back into his shell so fast other snails would have oohed and aahed with total envy.
So would a few turtles.
I like turtles.
They’re so green.
Like frogs.
And, speaking of frogs, Daniel jumped like one, his legs wobbling wide as though he were attempting to do breaststroke in midair as from out of nowhere, a kindly old man seemed to explode into existence amid a deafening roar of sigh and sound.
Oh! I see you jumped, too. Don’t be afraid. That’s just the Gatekeeper.
Yes, yes, I know. You were expecting, perhaps, Saint Peter.
Well, it’s not his shift.
“Hello, Mister Curser,” the Gatekeeper said. “Have you been here long? No, of course you haven’t. I’m sorry, I just popped out for a sandwich. Wonderful things, sandwiches. Don’t you think so?”
As you can tell, the Gatekeeper’s a nice sort of fellow. Do you like his purple shirt? I think he got it in Hawaaii, or someplace tropical like that.
Hardly very angelic you might think, but I think it’s just great. More people should wear such shirts.
I mean, everyone wanders around in suits and ties and black this and thats. Imagine just relaxing a bit, and wearing a nice colourful shirt and a comfortable pair of pants.
No? Don’t believe me?
Well, how’s this for a test of the truth of my proposition?
First, imagine two people.
Both of them are politicians.
Both are telling you the exact same lies.
Both are greedy, selfish and manipulative. These are, afterall, the prime qualities which make a politician.
One of them is wearing a nice suit, the price of which no doubt is beyond a normal man’s annual salary. His shoes, too, are just spiffing, and shiny and you can see your reflection in them, as well as several of this politician’s chins.
The other is wearing a nice bright colourful shirt, and a pair of shorts which could only be described as something of a Mister Hart What A Mess.
Both smile at you in exactly the same way.
Now, pick which one you would trust.
Yes, I see I have you thinking.
Good. Stay like that for a second while we wait for Mister Curser to get the bad news.
The Gatekeeper consults his little notepad.
“Curser… Curser… Oh yes, here you are. Mister Daniel Curser. Hmm, says here you’re a criminal, Mister Curser.”
“Well, not really. I mean, not often. Sometimes. Only when I needed to!”
“Yes, yes,” said the Gatekeeper. Can you tell how many times he’s heard that particular argument? “Well, Mister Curser, we could go over your record for some time, but it appears it wouldn’t have fit into my notebook anyway, so it has been omitted.” Oh, what a shame. “In any case, the verdict is in, and I do apologise, Mister Curser, but alas your application to enter the Holy Gates has been rejected. We would direct you to the little entrance just over there, and hope you have better luck in our, er, neighbouring community. Feel free to drop us a line and let us know how it goes! Oh, and have a terrific day, Mister Curser. Or, Daniel, rather. I may call you Daniel, may I? Marvellous. Good day!”
And with that, he popped back out of existence with just as large an explosion as before, and the Holy Gates cheerfully swooped back into place with a delicate click.
Very efficient, I must say, and with just the right touch of personality.
I am absolutely astounded by the pure class of that Gatekeeper individual, and I truly do wish I could invite him to a party. I must put him on the list.
Oh.
Oh dear.
Look at his face, the poor fellow.
He’s absolutely downcast now.
I do feel sorry for him now.
Even more than before, I think.
Sometimes I do think it would be nice for the Buddhists to be right.
Daniel Curser stood where he was, too shocked and appalled to even leap high in the air with fright as the Gatekeeper disappeared. That’s quite a waste of a perfectly good explosion, and no doubt the Gatekeeper felt the same.
He looked over his shoulder to see who was watching. Maybe he thought there was a sneaky camera crew, and who could blame him? It did seem as if someone were having a good joke on his behalf, didn’t it?
He looked up.
He looked down at his feet and shuffled them in the clouds.
He looked at the gates, then at the Other Entrance.
He looked back to the gates.
Then, in a perfectly clear and steady voice, one which amazes us just to hear, he yelled out, “What the bloody Hell was that all about?”
Oh, he is such a treasure!
I haven’t chuckled so much since . . . oh, well, since forever, it seems.
The Gatekeeper, however, has no such time for those who would stand on his Welcome Mat and dish out such obscenities, so I’m afraid Mister Curser didn’t get the opportunity to make a hearty 1-2-3 of it over the Other Entrance.
From inside, the Gatekeeper, annoyed at such use of obviously PG-Language, pulled the plug on Daniel and sent him to the Other Entrance via a trapdoor beneath the unfortunate new soul’s feet.
And, with a squeal of delight for the ride to come, or, perhaps, of pure naked terror, Daniel Curser dropped into the chute which would take him to Heaven’s neighbouring community, known commonly Hell.
It’s all so terrifyingly exciting, isn’t it?

Remember I said the ride was most excellent a ride indeed? Well, I’m afraid Daniel didn’t find it so. Look how he clutches at the walls of the chute, hoping desperately to slow himself down.
Instead of just letting go and enjoying the ride, he fights it and struggles to go against the flow.
What a shame. I do think he might have taken a few moments to look around. He would have noticed the most amazing things.
Like the view of Perth as he rushed downward.
Certainly, it’s not the greatest city in the world, but there is something quite pretty about it, I think. Especially the view from that delightful place, Kings Park. And, at this time of night, it’s simply breathtaking.
Unfortunately, Daniel saw none of this, and instead chose to screech and scream all the way to the bottom.
Perhaps in a few thousand years he would regret such an entrance. Maybe he would wish to do it all over.
Alas, such a thing is not possible.
It’s a one way trip, I’m afraid.
Which was why it was made so thrilling in the first place.
Have to make a good impression, you know. Otherwise, what’s the point?
And, as he landed, Daniel certainly got the point.
Three of them, in fact.
Right in his posterior.
That’s his bottom, to you. Or, if you prefer, his bum. either way, he missed his chance to turn the other cheek as it were…

Tags: daniel curser