When you hear the voice from above, will you be ready with a quick reply? I’ll admit right here that – for someone rarely at a loss for words – I was rendered speechless.

I mean, the voice was so clear to me, I was startled. But then, the nature of the question caught me off-guard. Unprepared.

The voice from on-high was crystal clear. Almost ethereal in the way it carried in the darkness behind the bookstore.

Have you had your dinner? the voice wondered.

I hadn’t. But then, I didn’t want to blurt out that answer without thinking it over for a half-second. If the Angel of Death or the Grim Reaper has some kind of challenge-test at first contact, my answer might make a difference.

No, I could say without hesitation. Then hedge it a little with a followup: But I’m on my way there now. Can you check back with me later? (Mortal trickery. I’m working on it.)

Truth to tell, there just wasn’t a precedent in my experience to know what sort of a reply to offer. Standing behind the shop with my car keys in hand, fumbling around for an answer. How long could I cheat death standing in the dark gabbing? Who really knows for certain about this stuff? That question. Strange. I would have expected something along the lines of “Are your affairs in order, Mr Bookman? Are you ready for the final chapter?”

And what if the reply is something that is repeated at the Pearly Gates? Maybe an afterlife crowd gathers there to hear the off-the-cuff answers to the Great Question, sort of like Funniest Heavenly Videos with a spirited spirit audience.

The other thing was – the voice didn’t sound the way I would have expected. (Not that I have EVER expected to hear voices, you understand.) If it was Death calling by any other name, I could imagine a voice more businesslike. Maybe a little threatening. You don’t expect to wrestle for your mortal soul with someone bearing a pleasant tone.

If it was to be my final testament, my last spoken words, I decided it would be best to stick to the truth. As a point of fact, I was getting into my car to grab a drive-through burger so I could get back to the shop and wrap up the evening’s work.

Well, I replied rather quietly. I was going to run to McDonalds…

As that part slipped out my mouth, I smelled the heavenly scent of a grilled steak – obviously seasoned to perfection. (You’d expect no less under the circumstances, though. Would you?)

But, steaks in the hereafter?

I tipped my head back to better sniff the drifting aroma, and spotted the stainless steel grill gleaming brightly in the cast of the streetlight. The lid was tipped back and I could see a thin cloud of smells-great-clear-down here smoke wafting skyward.

My neighbor. On the second-story deck in back of the loft. Obviously cooking up something a little more culinary than my plans. I could imagine the red glow of the coals under those steaks. I could imagine the red glow of my embarrassed face shining up from the parking spot down below. That was no scythe in her hand. Long-handled spatula.

I was going to run to McDonalds – that much I had already spoken aloud. Time for a quick-conversational U-turn.

…nothing compared to whatever you’re cooking up there, I finished. Smells great!

Lame, sure. Best I could do when my words began as a reply to the Reaper. In fact, I take no shame in it. Much better to answer the way I did, standing in the dark hearing a disembodied voice. I mean, it was better than screaming out like a little girl. Or throwing myself to the ground and blubbering about how all those sins over the years were accidents and Lord have mercy on me now Lord have mercy on me now.

Close call, that. Pride-wise.

I’ve decided to take a lesson from the indignity of it and come up with some fitting last words, something equally literate and moving. Something that might give ol’ St. Peter cause for thought as he reads down my life ledger. Words that cut to the drama of the moment but maintain an optimism toward this worldly existence.

Aww – who am I kidding? Think I’d remember my little speech at the moment of truth?

Not a ghost of a chance.

Come visit! (but announce yourself clearly when entering…)

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!