The Devil's Playground

What if you had to have an interview before getting into heaven?

"What do you mean forever?"

"I mean eternity."

"Doing what exactly?"

"Whatever you like..." The silence hung in the air like a burp at a family dinner.  He ran his fingers through his beard and thought for a moment.  "Tell me Mr Anderson, what's your favourite thing in the world?"

"Whisky," I replied without thinking.

"Ahh," he said, his face frozen in thought.  "Second favourite?

"Erm... sex," I said, embarrassed to be saying it aloud in front of the creator of the universe.

"There's none of that I'm afraid.  That's the Devil's playground."  His voice shook the desk between us.  I stared at my shoelaces, not wanting to offend him more.  "There must be something you like that isn't sinful?  I thought for a moment.  And then it hit me.

"Rock?" I offered.

"Oh yes, geology, it's a marvellous pastime," he smiled at me so broadly I felt my skin warm.

"God no not that, I meant the music," I interjected boldly.  He grew in front of my eyes, filling the room.

"Out, get out!" He shouted so loud it blew me off the chair and against the wall.  When I woke I saw the fires and instantly realised just how stupid I had been. But hey, at least there was good music.