It’s just like I heard it would be like. I see myself lying prostrate on the floor. I see people giving me CPR, others calling for help. I hear someone say “it’s too late, he’s gone.” “That’s okay,” I think. “I’m glad the chest pain is over.” Then I thought to myself, “They better give me a good, Reagan-level funeral” as the scene dissolves.
So here I am standing by a desk with a man who looks too busy to notice me. He looks like the late Senator Everett Dirksen, very distinguished, very authoritative. I admire his dark blue suit, his red tie, and especially his American flag lapel pin. I see a nameplate on the desk – Senator Peters.
“Hello,” I say in my deepest, most gravitas laden voice, hoping to command some respect from this lackey.
He puts down a paper, looks up, and smiles. “Welcome, Dick. We’ve been expecting you for some time now. Your resume is remarkable. You should have no problem getting in.”
“Getting in?” I ask. “Is there anything I have to do? Is there anything that I haven’t already done?”
“Not really, Dick, just a preliminary interview. That will be it.”
Senator Peters: “Your service to the American people is wonderful. You were Chief of Staff to President Ford. You represented your state in Congress for 10 years. You served as Secretary of Defense. You were Vice-President during one of the most trying periods of time in United States history.
DC: “Thank you sir. I’ve very proud of my service to America. If you didn’t know, I received the Presidential Medal for Freedom in 1991.”
Senator Peters: “But you never served in the Armed Forces, especially during the Vietnam War.”
DC: “Well, like many young men at the time, I was in college and sought a student deferral. After college, I received a family hardship deferral.”
Senator Peters: “If you never knew the terribleness of war firsthand, how do you feel about sending America’s best into harm’s way? Seems that you’ve done that twice in the Persian Gulf.”
DC: “I know it’s a tremendous responsibility, but I know what’s best for America.”
Senator Peters: It seems that you made up your mind about Iraq long before there was enough evidence to wage war against it.”
DC: “Saddam Hussein was a brutal dictator. Our intelligence reports stated that he had links to Al-Qaeda and was cultivating weapons of mass destruction. Anyone who disputes this just doesn’t know the facts.”
Senator Peters: “It even appears that you benefited from the war with your ties to the oil industry and the defense industry.”
DC: “Nothing could be farther from the truth. Those accusations typically come from my political opponents. I have not benefited for any activity that I believe is in the best interest of the United States of America.”
Senator Peters: “Well, as I said at the start Mr. Vice President, your resume is impeccable. Congratulations and welcome to heaven. Yours is the first door down the hall on the right. It’s the red door.”
I see the red door down the hall and walk toward it. It’s this easy then, entering heaven. Christ, I deserve it. With all of the great service I gave to the good old U, S, of A. Working for that idiot Ford, never reaching the top, and then working for idiot #2, Bush, for eight years. Thank god that they listened to me, and did what I told them, those fucking idiots.
I open the door and walk in. I notice that I’m wearing a warm-up suit and that I feel fine. No chest pain at all. I also notice that there’s a sweet smell of incense in the room and there’s strange, foreign music playing. Not exactly what I thought heaven would be like, but not bad either.
The room’s kind of dark and it takes my eyes a little time to adjust. To my surprise I can see a giant round bed fitted with a scarlet bedspread and silken sheets. Then I notice the mirror over the bed. This looks like a scene from playboy mansion. What next? Girls?
Oh my god, it is girls. Young, voluptuous girls enter from a side door. So many I can’t count. Each is dressed in silk gauze. Each is dark-eyed, with a dark complexion, though I wouldn’t call any of them “black.”
They file past me and every one either smiles at me, or purses her lips, or lifts her bosom with one of her hands. Christ, am I going to get laid here? Looks like this Wyoming cowboy is going to shoot off his pistol a few more times.
So I look over these girls. None of them says a word, but their body language speaks volumes. Half of them just sit on the floor with their legs open wide and grin at me. Some look young enough to be my grandchild. Others are older, but not nearly as old as my wife. Choices, choices.
Okay, I’ll take you as I point to teenage beauty. She squeals in delight, and I heard a sigh of disappointment from all of the others. This beautiful creature literally skips around me as we head to the round bed. By the time we reach the bed, she’s naked. All I have to do is drop pants on my jumpsuit. I’m amazed that at my age, I’m hard as a rock and ready to go.
So we’re both down on sheets, which are kind of slippery. I finger her and see that she’s wet as a mop. Since she’s ready, I’m ready. I’m going in and … oh my god that hurts. It feels like my dick was just cut off.
Next thing I know I’m sitting at the desk of Senator Peters again. He’s shaking his head.
Senator Peters: “Dick, you failed the interview.”
DC: “What? We had the interview. I did great.”
Senator Peters: “That was the preliminary interview. We knew that you were good with words, a veritable prevarication machine you might say. So we put you to the test, the silent interview. You failed just like the rest of them.”
“We can now call you on all of your bullshit. You were so good on earth that we had trouble telling the bullshit from the non-bullshit. You were so convincing that even from our vantage point, we couldn’t tell if you were sincere or not. Here, I'll just tell you what we've got on you.”
“You help found the ‘Project for the New American Century’ which advocated the U.S. use its military strength as an instrument of foreign policy.”
“You directed the Energy Task Force and published a report that stated it is in the US interest to manipulate oil rich countries to secure future oil supplies.”
“You were the Bush spokesman for the invasion of Iraq and the removal of Saddam Hussein stating repeatedly that:
- he was developing weapons of mass destruction
- he was an ally of Al-Qaeda
- he supported the September 11 attacks against the US.”
“You saw to it that Halliburton Corp. received $7B no-bid contracts following the US invasion of Iraq.”
“You, sir, are a warmonger and a war profiteer. Goodbye Mr. Cheney,” says Senator Peters. He pushes a button under his desk, and just like in the movies, a trapdoor opens under my seat, and I fall into darkness. And as I fall I feel it getting hotter and hotter. “Christ, what’s happening,” I think. And it keeps getting hotter and hotter.
The next thing I know I’m lying of the floor of a cell with harsh lights shining down on me. There’s a mustached man with army fatigues standing over me. The bastard kicks me with all of his might in the gut.
“Hello, Cheney. Welcome to hell,” Saddam says.