Chapter Thirty Five

We pulled into a clearing that probably wasn't 50 yards from where I rowed ashore from the river. I think she just wanted to drive a while. There was a pretty good sized party going on with barbecue, beer, all kinds of smoke, mullet haircuts, bare chests of all sexes, and a rockin band playing on a flat-bed trailer.

"How's this for heaven." Lynette pulled a hank of her long brown back and fixed it behind her big Kentucky ears. "Look who's sittin in with the band."

There was a long haired, bearded man, dressed in a flowing robe, playing a beautiful wood grain guitar. The headstock was unusual to say the least, it made a large ornate cross at the top.

"Oh my lord, it's Jesus Christ!" I couldn't believe how he could play. It didn't matter that he was drifting into an original solo inside of the tune "Jesus is just alright with me" by the Doobie Brothers. He was wailing on that cross like he was possessed.

"Pretty good, huh?" Lynette was presenting Jesus to me like she discovered him. "When he first started playing here he was so nervous he could hardly stand up. Now he just walks up like he owns the place."

The rest of the group was made up of some fabulous musicians that I didn't readily recognize. "Who's the band...The apostles ?" The song hit a break and Jesus filled the silence with a knee bending flourish. He jumped high in the air and the song came to a crashing conclusion with his landing. The audience applauded madly.

"We're gonna take a little pause for the cause, we'll be back before you know it. Drink it up folks, if we run out....Well, if we run out..."

The other band members chimed in. "What'll happen if we run out?"

"If we run out...."

The audience joined in. "What'll happen if we run out Jesus?" The call and answer session repeated a few more times.

"If we run out...Then I'll make some more." The crowd went wild.

Lynette pulled me aside to meet her girlfriends, a gaggle of beauties dressed in halter tops, jewelry, and too much make-up. "Hey everybody, I want to introduce you to Marty an old friend of mine from the coal mine." Lynette always called the accounting firm the coal mine, even when she was alive. Her friends were mostly hairdressers in their previous lives.

The girls surrounded me and covered me with kisses. One of the women with a large bouffant hairdo asked me "What are you doing here Marty ? I don't mean to offend you, but you don't look like you belong at this party."

"I'm not sure." I looked at Lynette. "You should probably ask her, she brought me here."

"I didn't bring you here Marty, I just saw all the angels down by the river and I went over to see what was going on. Jeannette is right though, you DON'T look dead."

"I'm not dead, I'm alive as hell." The atmosphere of the party was starting to rub off on my speech patterns. "I assumed that you called me here like all the other dead people have been doing."

"What happened to your head Marty? That's a pretty serious looking scar." said the girl in the cut-off jeans.

"You people don't know about me?" I was a little surprised. "I had an accident and ever since then I've been in and out of some interesting places in the afterlife."

The girls and a group of bikers who were listening in behind them all shook their heads "no" in amazement.

Lynette spoke for the group. "We don't take much interest in the living here, it's like going to the library, or watching television. It really cuts in to our drinking time."

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder that radiated down to my feet. I turned around to see the glorious face of Jesus, his left hand on my body, his right hand holding his guitar. "It's your turn Marty." The faces of the crowd around filled with shock and then excitement. As he pushed me towards the stage he forced his golden instrument into my arms. "This is where you get your chops."

I can't imagine doing anything so bold for anyone else in the universe. I put the strap of thorns over my shoulder and walked up on the flat-bed truck. The golden plug at the end of the cable running from the Fender tweed faced amplifier slid silently into the guitar and I looked towards my band mates. Their eyes gazed at me, silently asking what it was I wanted to play. As I lay my fingers on the fretboard, they seemed to hear the answer and readied themselves to join in. My heart stumbled across my chest as I muffed a few lame notes. I gathered my composure, and dove right into a phenomenal riff. It astonished me more than anybody. The cooks in the back stopped flipping burgers and turning brats and held their spatulas high in a salute, smoke pouring from their grills.

Jesus looked up at me from the base of the stage, his face glowing with a divine light. He made a fist and held it low so only I could see. He pumped his hand twice in a sign of holy encouragement. The biker standing next to him passed him a joint, and he opened his fist to receive it.

I played the distinctive open to "Manic Depression" by Jimi Hendrix and we were off and running. The crowd loved it. "Manic depression, touching my soul." I sang the lyrics while I played. "I know what I want, but I just don't know, how to go about getting it..." Lynette closed her eyes and waved her arms above her head, all the while dancing from the waist down. "Music, sweet music, wish I could caress, with a kiss...Manic depression is a frustrating mess!"

The band was sharp and the audience was with me from the start. I played the night away. The party was all fun. A few fights broke out, but no one got worried and the cops didn't come. The guys that fought would eventually stop and hug, wash their blood off with beer, and go right back to having fun. I ended the night with an original song called "Heaven in a nutshell." As I walked off the stage to an uproarious cheer, the band saluted me by breaking into "Chicken,gravy, and biscuits." by Lil Ed and the Blues Imperials. It was the most rocking night ever.

Jesus took his guitar back and patted my back. "I think you'll get it in a couple of days, see ya tomorrow night."

"Get what?" I shouted, but Jesus disappeared into the crowd.

"Ready to see my place?" Lynette was already pulling me to the car.

"Let me guess....Trailer?"

"Quadruple wide!" We got into the Road Runner and roared into the night.