Remembering Hell Read Free

hierarchy comes complete with glorious wings and a set of
superpowers that would make Stan Lee jealous enough to cry. One of those
superpowers is that she can read minds. Well, kind of. What I’ve learned over
the years is that she can’t exactly read minds. It is more like she can hear
what is in your heart or soul or whatever. Of course, a lot of times, it seems
that she is answering a question that you have just formulated in your mind,
hence the mind reader rap.
    But have you ever noticed that a
lot of questions that we as humans think about are actually things we’ve been
aware of on some level for a very long time? I heard once that slot machines in
casinos are constantly putting together combinations. The second you put in a
coin and pull the lever, it lands on whatever combination the machine had
already decided on at that very second. Our inner voice speaks to us all the
time too, and it is only when we land on a particular thought that it is able
to enter our minds, where we can process it. Gabby can tell you that your soul
is going to come up with three cherries or two lemons and an orange, so to
speak. At any rate, she’s totally brilliant. I vacillate between being
completely in love with her and being outrageously envious of her at the same
time.
    However, as I walk into the agency
and see the way Gabby is looking at me, I realize I am also quite frightened of
her. Her face is filled with something not quite angry, but there is a fire
within her eyes that alludes to angelic fury. Now before you start thinking that
angelic fury is on par with angry puppies or spitting mad adorable babies, let
me remind you that angelic fury was once responsible for things like killing
the first born of entire countries and shit like that. When Gabby gets mad, or
to better describe it, righteously infuriated, particularly on Deedy’s behalf,
then she gets scary. And not like when you were a kid and your mom said “Wait
until your father gets home!” kind of scary. I’m talking Chuck Norris would
shit his pants kind of scary. So a ticked off angel is not on the top ten “must
see” list in the hereafter. And while I’ve never actually seen Gabby’s wrath, I
have heard enough stories to know I don’t want to. Ever.
    “Okay, I know you’re pissed off at
me right now. But no smiting me or anything,” I say with a false bravado and
accompany it with a nervous giggle. I walk past her to the coffee pot. “May I
have a cup of your wonderful coffee?” I’m trying to sound way more nonchalant
than I actually feel.
    “I’m not angry, Lou. And of course,
but please let me get it. Whenever you get near my coffee you always make a
huge mess,” she says with genuine laughter. Thankfully, she’s in a good mood.
    I laugh along with her. “When I was
living, Bobby used to call my sugar packets and dirty spoons Weasel Scat.” When
I was in Hell, I couldn’t even remember Bobby. It took years and a little of
Deedy’s magic before I remembered I had shared my life with a wonderful man. A
wonderful man who called me Weasel, but still a great guy. Now, of course he is
here, in Heaven. Along with his wife, a wonderful woman named Sue Ann who he
married a few years after I died. The two of them raised my daughter, Dinny.
Dinny was a nickname too. Bobby loved nicknames. Her actual name was Linda,
after my best friend in the whole world.
    Thinking about Linda snaps me back
into the present, and I decide I am willing to push the edge of the envelope
with Gabby. “You know why I’m here, Gabby. I need to talk to the boss.” I
decide that perhaps being a bit more respectful might be required here, so I
quickly add, “If that’s okay?”
    “That is always okay, Louise,”
Gabby answers with a small smile. “But you aren’t just asking to talk to him,
you are quite frankly demanding that he comes and talks to you.” She hands me
my coffee. “You don’t think that might be just a bit presumptuous?”
    “Why?” I say with