The Afterlife with Raymond and Peter : Stories and anecdotes : Shut Up, Little Man!
The Afterlife with Raymond and Peter —
Peter Haskett passed away in the spring of 1996. God’s judgment was swift, cruel, and really not much of a surprise: eternal damnation in Hell. Subsequently, there was a cosmic sigh of relief, a restoration of a certain metaphysical balance, for finally, that drunken odd couple, Peter and Raymond, would once again be reunited. This time, in the burning bowels of Hell.
After Peter checked in to Hell, he made his way toward. . . where else? The bar. Now, everyone knows that damnation and suffering is the main fare in Hell, and the Infernal bar was no exception:
Peter: "Uh, I’ll take a Vodker on the rocks."
Bartender: "Sorry, pal, the only thing we got here is Diet Wine Coolers."
Peter: "I have never heard anything as silly and ridiculous as that!"
Bartender: "Welcome to Hell!" Peter spied a young man and began to chat him up, snapping his blue broccoli band.
Peter: "I was written up in the Wall Street Journal in 1957, ’59, ’60, ’61, ’63 . . . "
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room. Ray had been drinking wine coolers like mad since he arrived in hell way back in 1992 in a furious effort to tie on a drunk. Ray found himself talking to a rather boastful and agitated individual [Hitler]. [Ray sat at his little table, holding his stuffed bunny].
Hitler: "I caused a vorld var and keeled millions ov people in zee conzentration camps."
Ray: "Well, I was a mean motherfucker in mah time and I still am!"
Hitler: "Of course, dee degenerate lifestyle is why ex-teer-me-nation of zee homosexuals vas necessary."
Ray: "I don’t say you are right, but I do think that the afterworld would be better off if we kill a few."
Ray, excited by all the hateful talk and finally catching a slight buzz after 13,472 consecutive wine coolers, raised his voice in a toxic fury: "I despise all queers! If there is anyone here in hell wants to argue with me on that. Go ahead. Come to me. I want to kill. I want to kill!"
Peter, recognizing that unforgettable little man voice, turned on his barstool. His eyes widened in a combination of wonder and horror. It was then that the Sartrean notion that ’Hell is other people’ dawned on Peter. The thought of being captive with Raymond Huffmann for the rest of Time enraged him, causing him to unleash his first post-mortem: "SHUT UP, LITTLE MAN!"
Peter walked over to Ray’s table.
Peter: "Here goes again, little man. You are trying to be the big man you never were on Earth."
Ray: "Fuck you, Peter Haskett. What did you do when you were on the Earth. You didn’t do nothin’ ’cept be a fuckin’ queer."
Ray lunged at Peter
Peter: "Don’t touch me, sir, you’ll be down if you do."
Ray: "Don’t fuck with me, I don’t wanna hurt you."
Peter: "Don’t you try. "
Ray: "I am perfectly willing to kick the shit out of you."
Devil: "Gentleman, break it up. Break it up."