Donovan awoke with a start and rubbed his eyes. As he lowered his hands from his face he was surprised to notice that he was sitting in what appeared to be a big, puffy cloud. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes again. ‘Well,’ he thought, seeing that the cloud persisted still, ‘then I guess there’s nothing for it-I’m dead.’
He leapt to his feet and looked around. There was no sign of the truck that had just been bearing down on him as he stepped out of the Stinky Finger Adult Book Store, nor the small Mexican man he’d pushed out of his way as he tried to escape. There was no sign of the wood and plaster he’d heard breaking as the truck crushed him between itself and the shop, either. He scratched his head, and then began a quick check of his assorted parts. Arms, check. Legs, check. Chest, check. Nipples, check. ‘Hmm’, he thought, ‘I appear to be intact; what gives?’
“Ahem!” Donovan was startled by a voice behind him; he turned quickly, cracking his neck just a bit as he did. To his surprise he came face to face-literally 3 inches face to face-with what appeared to be an older Middle Eastern gentleman in long, flowing robes. Donovan stepped back about two feet and the man rolled his eyes as he sighed “Westerners.” “Where am I?” Donovan asked with suspicion in his voice. The old man smirked and said with a wave of his hands, “You are at the Gates of Heaven.” There seemed to be some distaste in the man’s voice as he considered Donovan, but the goofy smile on the westerner’s face forced him to chuckle a little.
“So…this is what, Arab Heaven then?” The man’s smile faded at what he clearly considered an idiotic question. “This is Heaven,” he said with some impatience, “the one and only Heaven.” “So like…Muslim Heaven then” Donovan pondered out loud as the old man scratched himself. “How come I’m not in Christian Heaven?” Donovan’s face contorted with a bit of confusion, “Or even Buddhist Heaven, I mean I did have some time with that while I was in college” he explained.
“Well for one thing,” said the old man, “Buddhists don’t have a Heaven in the sense that Christians, Jews and Muslims do. And at that, only the Muslim Heaven is real, at least as far as you’re concerned”. Donovan was a little confused by the wording of this last bit of information. “Well how did I end up here?” he asked cautiously as he gazed around and noticed several sets of gates off in the distance. His stare was caught by the nearest of these gates, which appeared to have a large group of women in long, flowing robes issuing from it.
“You’re an Islamic hero; a martyr” said the old man as he again rolled his eyes. “The man you saved will shortly go on to strike a mighty blow against the Great Satan’s minions in America. Allah rewards such bravery with Heavenly treasures.” ‘OK,’ thought Donovan as he began to count the women in the distance, ‘I guess he wasn’t Mexican then.’
“And of course, the fact that you trapped a very evil infidel who’d spilled much seed, and ensured his death has further endured you to Allah,” the old man continued, “you are going to be a very highly rewarded man.”
“And respected, I bet” Donovan said with a grin.
“Well, you’re still Caucasian, I think you’re going to have to make do with rewards. Some things even Allah cannot change,” the old man laughed.
Donovan thought about this newest alleged action. Had he trapped someone? He thought for a moment but—wait, yes, he did remember vaguely the sound of the store’s door closing just behind him before he noticed the truck. He blinked and thought; when he’d seen the truck he’d screamed, pushed the not-Mexican man out of the way, and thrown his arms wide in a fit of panic. Had he trapped someone there behind him? He guessed that such a thing was possible, and for a moment he nearly felt bad. ‘Wow, what a weird stroke of luck.’ He thought as he looked up and again noticed the approaching crowd.
“So, who are these people?” Donovan asked as he pointed to the gaggle of women moving rhythmically in his direction. As they approached in waves he noticed that they’d begun to drop to their knees, stretching their backs and arms far out in front as if reaching toward him. He couldn’t quite tell how many there were, he’d lost count at around 50 or so. “They are one of your rewards.” the old man smiled, “Behold, your Seventy-Two Virgins arrive!” Donovan blinked as he looked back and forth between the man and the gaggle of heavily clothed women. To his surprise he noticed that, sure enough, each of them had a number embroidered into their dress in a fancy looking font. 1, 13, 9, 22…they were out of order but there could be no mistake that these women were marked and numbered.
“What am I supposed to do with them?” Donovan stammered, his voice beginning to shake. The old man smiled and leaned closer to Donovan, “You’re an American, man. What the hell do you think you do with virgins?” Donovan blinked. He’d only ever met a few virgins, but as he considered the old man’s question his heart began to sink. “Well,” he said, “you teach them, endlessly. How to be careful about their teeth, how to move their hips, what kinds of dirty things they should say, why they should consent to threesomes…” “Yes, yes, fine” the old man interrupted. “I don’t need to know the details, OK? My job is pretty simple: Give you your reward, point you to the gate, and move on to the next martyr.”
Donovan sighed. “OK” he said, “But can I just ask for one slight change in my reward?” The old man’s eyes nearly boggled out of his head. “What? You wish to reject Allah’s gift?!” Donovan put his hands up in a defensive, surrendering manner and quickly corrected the old man. “No, no, no, nothing like that! I just mean that, well, maybe this gift doesn’t really fit me, you know? Maybe I could just get the receipt and take it back to K-Mart, get something that fits me a little better, that’s all. I promise I mean no disrespect for our umm…Lord.” The old man thought for a moment, and Donovan could nearly picture the words in his head as he laughed at his strange western ways.
“Fine,” the old man eventually said as he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “what would you have Allah reward you with in place of the Seventy-Two Virgins?” Donovan’s eyes lit up with excitement as he felt his big chance coming up. A grin stretched across his lips and he breathed as deeply as a ghost can before he asked in his very best serious voice, “Can I trade these seventy two virgins for three sluts?”