I’m sick of this shit. I’m sick of being here. It’s all so overrated. This life I lead is totally fake, and I fucking hate it. For once I want someone to tell me the truth and to stop running around the obvious for once. I’m a failure. Come flat out and fucking say it already, and stop with the “we’re disappointed in you” shit that I have come to absolutely hate.

They don’t think you’re a failure, they just think you can do more. Please don’t push them away, and please don’t let them delve too far into the failure you’ve come to be. I need their approval. I want it and crave it, and I will do anything for it. I do mean anything. And by "I", I mean you too.

Do anything for it, go ahead. But the reality of life is whatever the person who gives that life decides. Doesn’t matter what you want, what you need, what you care about—nothing. It’s the divine right of kin to entreat the pathway of your life. It’s sickening. It absolutely disgusts me.

You can’t say that. There’s always the divine will of fate that guides you in the right direction, and supersedes whatever outside forces may exist. Stop being so negative towards the natural course of the world. They aren’t out to get you—they simply want to help you.

Your lies only drip with false hope. Everyone could use a little more bullshit in their lives, and the never ending prophecy that “people are good” fits squarely on the shoulders of dissolution and the blinders we’re supposed to don so that we may be a more fluid society. It’s the sugar coating of reality that blinds the world to the simple fact of the matter that nothing and no one is good. Not even me.

How jaded the soul becomes when everything is seen in shadows.

Don’t you see? My life isn’t their playground. Choose for me, and I’ll do something a little bit worse in return for your counterfeit good intentions. I’m just some little shit two people decided to have for the purpose of trying life over again. Over again through me, that is. My life isn’t mine at all. It’s this figment of someone else’s imagination. So, riddle me this. Why bother?

Well would you?

Would I what?

If given the chance, would you do it again?

I’d be damned..Quick. Someone's coming. Hide.

"Samantha, who are you talking to? Is there someone here with you?"

"Always Momma. Always and never."

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Those—those! were my last words?”

“Hey, I think considering the circumstances of your parting it isn’t half bad.”

“No. No. No. No! Okay. Repeat them to me, one more time. Slowly. Very slowly”

“Your finals words were, and I quote, ‘Through flashbacks and doobies, Viagra and….”

“Viagra?”

“Yes. Viagra. You know—little blue pill, gives you a hard on for hours. You really were living life with your eyes sealed shut for the bitter last months of it, weren’t you?”

“Listen here fucker, I don’t have to answer to you or anyone.”

“Actually, you do. You have an interview scheduled for a another meeting, and then with the big guy once I finish this paperwork for you, so if you could kindly take your New York laced Mafioso attitude and kindly throw it out the proverbial window, this process will go a lot more smoothly. Mmkay?

“So this is heaven? And even in heaven there’s goddamn paperwork and formalities?

“Bureaucracy is inescapable. And no, this isn’t heaven. This is a checkpoint, and based on your record here, you’re stint at a wannabe don isn’t going to translate well into an over-glorified spot beyond these pearly gates.”

“They let queers up here? Do the queers get passed those pearly gates?”

“Well, I work for The Man, himself, and despite my love for ballroom gowns, I’m not gay. I’m a transvestite. Transvestites dress up as women, and fuck women. Transgenders dress up as women, and want to be women so they can fuck men. Drag queens are gay men who dress up as women. Really simple, no? Easy to follow, I think. And yes, Christianity fucked up big time. Homosexuality isn’t a sin, it’s a formality that, quite frankly, after the whole Liberace fiasco, has been pretty much constantly overlooked. Now, do you want to know what your last words were, or no?”

“Sure.”

“Well if you can’t muster up enough enthusiasm to even know what your parting words on earth were, then I’m not going to bother repeating it for the fourth time…”

“Sorry. It’s the shock of death that just got to me.”

“Yea, it happens. Wait until remorse sets in. When I had to triage Stalin he was all candy kisses and puppy dog tails, until five years into his stay in Hell and remorse struck. Ever seen a grown man cry himself to the point of ripping out his eyelashes?”

“Can’t say that I umm have, no.”

“Me either, but I’m assuming that’s what would have happened had he ever gotten the opportunity to leave purgatory. But when you have that many sins? You’re going to be in there for a while. Let the mother fucker burn. Right, anyway! It says here you killed six men, looks like you’ll be burning too! FUN!”

“Just tell me my last words so I can move to the next station, butt-romper.”

“Butt romper? You do realize I have the power to send you to the homosexual side of heaven, which is kind of like a heterosexual homophobes hell. And, between you and me, I’d rather burn for my sins than butt fuck them away. Just saying as a fellow straight man, you know. Transvestite equals straight man. We went over this.”

“I give up.”

“Good, ‘cause it’s time to go to your next stop before you meet The Almighty. It was a pleasure working for you this evening, and I hope your pathway brings you enlightenment.”

“So that’s it? You’ll never even tell me my last words? Maybe I don’t want to know, if they contain the word ‘viagra.’”

“Oh. You told your wife you loved her. Those were your last words.”

"No viagra?"

"No. Your wife showed up just in time for you to see her, and tell her that you love her. Those were your last words, she was the last face you saw. You'll rest happy, no matter where you are, because of that. God's Speed."