Goodwill
Well-Known Member
Gerard Miken was, for lack of a better word, ordinary. Gerry was neither tall nor was he short and he couldn’t be considered a robust gentleman although he was hardily a lean man. His bushy crop of hair was neatly combed in the same direction each day and he went out of his way to don a suit and tie about as routinely as he combed his hair to the side. There was nothing provocative about Gerry.
As if his physical stubbornness wasn’t enough, Miken would do the same thing every day until the day that he died, of course. He would awaken in the morning only to find himself in an unsanitary state, so he would head to the bathroom and take care of his hygienic responsibilities before he went down for breakfast. He would eat raw toast with a bitter mug of coffee each morning. Gerry would drive to work soon after and spend the day in his cubicle doing what needed to be done, even going as far as to ignore his co-workers and neglect to respond to his stomach, which lurched around noon, beckoning for lunch. After he was finished with what his boss demanded of him he’d go home and watch a little television before getting dinner and eventually retiring for the night.
On the day that Gerry Miken died, though, things changed.
As he drove to work, Gerard turned on the radio station that he always did as he traversed the highway system. The music, which droned on and on, suddenly cut to an announcer, promoting a contest in which, if you answered a trivial question correctly you’d win a million dollars instantly. Miken knew the answer and even considered picking up his cell phone because he thought he’d be late for work if he tried to get a hold of the station to answer the question.
He got to work and was quickly ushered into his boss’ office, where he was given a proposal to work in a tropical location; in taking the position Gerard would have also gotten a raise. Miken, however, turned it down because he was afraid to move away from his house that he had known for well over thirty years.
At lunchtime, Gerard actually caved in and pleased his stomach by getting a quick bite to eat. The cashier at the burger joint he went to appeared to be his age and was extremely attractive. The woman came on to Miken, although Miken remained, or played rather, an oblivious man because he was convinced he was too old to get into a relationship, even if it was just for a good time.
Gerard Miken eventually returned home and, as he was driving, an odd storm accumulated. It looked threatening, however, Miken pursued home so that he could curl up on the coach, watching his favorite television show. He parked his car outside of his house and started walking across his lawn. Then, before he could think or even cry for help, he was struck by a shard of lightning and killed instantly.
Within that same second, it seemed, Gerard awoke with a startling quickness. He noticed that he was no longer in his front yard; rather, he was in a vast desert, where the sun was more impressive than he had remembered before. Miken decided that it best he walked in any particular direction until he found life or a sign of it at least so that he could make heads or tails of what had happened to him. After all, he had no recollection of the lightning striking him, nor did he know where he was. So, as he trekked through the rugged sand terrain, Gerard began looking around for any noticeable life. His suit was beginning to wear in the difficult conditions and his shoes, too, although he thought it best to keep them on since, if he took them off, the cooked sand’d burn him.
Gerard had been walking for days, although he did not know it at the time. He now had a shaggy beard formulating across his dulled face and his clothing had begun to perish; all that was left was rags clinging to his belt, shoulders, and knees. Miken’s facial expression was sunken and all that he could think about was finding someone to give him a drink of water.
Then, before Gerard, there was a man. He bore a tattered black robe and he seemed to be a very dark and brooding man with slender arms and fingers as far as Gerry saw and he seemed to glide across the sand, not tripping over his own feet as Miken had been doing for well over a hundred miles. The brooding, cloaked man approached Gerard and said, “Are you Gerard F. Miken?” The cloaked man was given an apprehensive nod on Gerard’s part. The Cloak, as Gerry thought his name would be, pulled out a parchment and said, “Perfect,” before walking away in the same direction in which he came.
“Eh, excuse me,” Miken bellowed to the man. It had been a while since he used his voice, so it came out coarsely. “Where am I?”
The Cloak turned around and faced his interrogator. “Why, you’re in heaven of course,” the croaky voice said. When the Cloak saw that Gerard had seemed extremely offended, he decided to delve into a much deeper explanation. “You were actually struck by lightning when you got out of your car,” Cloak explained. “It was my fault, really. You see, during your life, you took no risks. There was never an appreciation for what you were given by God. I’d say it was disrespect, however, the Big Guy thinks that’s a little harsh since, after all, there are no real guidelines to the way you’re supposed to live your life… So anyway, I decided to have a little fun with you, you being the most superstitious man on Earth. I baited you into a ton of things before you died, yet you ignored them…” Cloak saw that Gerard was deep in thought about what he last remembered. “Yes, the contest, the promotion, and the girl could’ve all been life altering events but did you want anything to do with them? NO!” He said in a long, exaggerated voice.
“Why would you do something like that?” Miken asked, almost brought to tears. “I liked stuff the way it was.”
“I was trying to give you that opportunity so that you could have a life full of ambitious adventures and a desire for more and more mysteries, however, you shied away from them. I know this place inside and out and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, heaven aint what it’s cracked up to be,” The Cloak said. “It’s been like this since the Big Guy settled down here. I tried to get you to appreciate life so that, when you got here, you’d be pleased with what you had accomplished, however, now that you’re here without accomplishments or desires, you’re unhappy and barking at me like I’m the one responsible… I’m sorry,”
The Cloak shrugged and soon faded away into the distance, never to be seen by Gerard F Miken again because, now that he had been given an answer, whether he liked it or not, he sat, never having to walk again. His time was up and he’d just have to dwell on what he could’ve done but didn’t for the rest of eternity.
As if his physical stubbornness wasn’t enough, Miken would do the same thing every day until the day that he died, of course. He would awaken in the morning only to find himself in an unsanitary state, so he would head to the bathroom and take care of his hygienic responsibilities before he went down for breakfast. He would eat raw toast with a bitter mug of coffee each morning. Gerry would drive to work soon after and spend the day in his cubicle doing what needed to be done, even going as far as to ignore his co-workers and neglect to respond to his stomach, which lurched around noon, beckoning for lunch. After he was finished with what his boss demanded of him he’d go home and watch a little television before getting dinner and eventually retiring for the night.
On the day that Gerry Miken died, though, things changed.
As he drove to work, Gerard turned on the radio station that he always did as he traversed the highway system. The music, which droned on and on, suddenly cut to an announcer, promoting a contest in which, if you answered a trivial question correctly you’d win a million dollars instantly. Miken knew the answer and even considered picking up his cell phone because he thought he’d be late for work if he tried to get a hold of the station to answer the question.
He got to work and was quickly ushered into his boss’ office, where he was given a proposal to work in a tropical location; in taking the position Gerard would have also gotten a raise. Miken, however, turned it down because he was afraid to move away from his house that he had known for well over thirty years.
At lunchtime, Gerard actually caved in and pleased his stomach by getting a quick bite to eat. The cashier at the burger joint he went to appeared to be his age and was extremely attractive. The woman came on to Miken, although Miken remained, or played rather, an oblivious man because he was convinced he was too old to get into a relationship, even if it was just for a good time.
Gerard Miken eventually returned home and, as he was driving, an odd storm accumulated. It looked threatening, however, Miken pursued home so that he could curl up on the coach, watching his favorite television show. He parked his car outside of his house and started walking across his lawn. Then, before he could think or even cry for help, he was struck by a shard of lightning and killed instantly.
Within that same second, it seemed, Gerard awoke with a startling quickness. He noticed that he was no longer in his front yard; rather, he was in a vast desert, where the sun was more impressive than he had remembered before. Miken decided that it best he walked in any particular direction until he found life or a sign of it at least so that he could make heads or tails of what had happened to him. After all, he had no recollection of the lightning striking him, nor did he know where he was. So, as he trekked through the rugged sand terrain, Gerard began looking around for any noticeable life. His suit was beginning to wear in the difficult conditions and his shoes, too, although he thought it best to keep them on since, if he took them off, the cooked sand’d burn him.
Gerard had been walking for days, although he did not know it at the time. He now had a shaggy beard formulating across his dulled face and his clothing had begun to perish; all that was left was rags clinging to his belt, shoulders, and knees. Miken’s facial expression was sunken and all that he could think about was finding someone to give him a drink of water.
Then, before Gerard, there was a man. He bore a tattered black robe and he seemed to be a very dark and brooding man with slender arms and fingers as far as Gerry saw and he seemed to glide across the sand, not tripping over his own feet as Miken had been doing for well over a hundred miles. The brooding, cloaked man approached Gerard and said, “Are you Gerard F. Miken?” The cloaked man was given an apprehensive nod on Gerard’s part. The Cloak, as Gerry thought his name would be, pulled out a parchment and said, “Perfect,” before walking away in the same direction in which he came.
“Eh, excuse me,” Miken bellowed to the man. It had been a while since he used his voice, so it came out coarsely. “Where am I?”
The Cloak turned around and faced his interrogator. “Why, you’re in heaven of course,” the croaky voice said. When the Cloak saw that Gerard had seemed extremely offended, he decided to delve into a much deeper explanation. “You were actually struck by lightning when you got out of your car,” Cloak explained. “It was my fault, really. You see, during your life, you took no risks. There was never an appreciation for what you were given by God. I’d say it was disrespect, however, the Big Guy thinks that’s a little harsh since, after all, there are no real guidelines to the way you’re supposed to live your life… So anyway, I decided to have a little fun with you, you being the most superstitious man on Earth. I baited you into a ton of things before you died, yet you ignored them…” Cloak saw that Gerard was deep in thought about what he last remembered. “Yes, the contest, the promotion, and the girl could’ve all been life altering events but did you want anything to do with them? NO!” He said in a long, exaggerated voice.
“Why would you do something like that?” Miken asked, almost brought to tears. “I liked stuff the way it was.”
“I was trying to give you that opportunity so that you could have a life full of ambitious adventures and a desire for more and more mysteries, however, you shied away from them. I know this place inside and out and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, heaven aint what it’s cracked up to be,” The Cloak said. “It’s been like this since the Big Guy settled down here. I tried to get you to appreciate life so that, when you got here, you’d be pleased with what you had accomplished, however, now that you’re here without accomplishments or desires, you’re unhappy and barking at me like I’m the one responsible… I’m sorry,”
The Cloak shrugged and soon faded away into the distance, never to be seen by Gerard F Miken again because, now that he had been given an answer, whether he liked it or not, he sat, never having to walk again. His time was up and he’d just have to dwell on what he could’ve done but didn’t for the rest of eternity.
