Starbucks in the Sky

I had known all along. Here came the light. I knew when I thought I saw those squirrels high-fiving each other that I would be seeing those pearly gates (or whatever) in just a few moments. So right after my car and I got well acquainted with a tree, I floated off to see what I had gotten myself into next.


What I came to was NOT what I had been expecting. I walked through the large glass doors into a. . Starbucks Coffee House? There was a large desk at one end of the room and small tables with small chairs spread throughout. It was like I was in college all over again! Or, I had died and gone to hell. Maybe there is some sort of waiting list.


“Uh, hi? Is there anyone that could tell me what I am supposed to do here?”


A small woman with glasses and the Starbucks apron and hat was making someone’s latté, so She had to shout over the sound of the mixer for me to hear.


“Hey sweetie, the name is God, what can I do for ya?”


I blinked several times, staring at her. God? With a Brooklyn accent? And female no less? Working in a Starbucks for dead people?! I was not dead, I was hallucinating!


“You are God? And this is heaven? I am going to be in a Starbucks Coffee House for eternity?!”


Ok, so I had slipped into hysteria, can you blame me?


“Oh, just for now, sweets,” ‘God’ said. “You will probably be back down there in a couple decades.”


Now I really was confused.


“Whoa, slow down, can we start from page one please?” I almost whimpered, my mind in major overload.


“Oh. . Ok, I get it, I am sorry, kid. Tell me, what religion were you back on Earthside?”


This caught me off guard. I had grown up Catholic, but I had not been to church in years. Her comment reminded me that according to that faith, I was supposed to be in Hell or Purgatory or something. But here I was talking to God.


“Well, when I was little, I was Catholic. . .”


As soon as that passed my lips, God burst into a fit of cackles.


“Oh my goodness, you poor child, no wonder you are confused. . When you were alive, did you ever hear of the Star Followers?”


She delivered the latté to its new owner and so was able to give me her complete attention.


“Yes,” I said, raising one of my eyebrows. “Those nuts that thought there was a. . oh dear. .”


“A Starbucks in the sky,” God finished for me. “Yes, darling, this is the Starbucks in the sky, and I am here to serve you.”


I stared at Her for quite a long time, letting this all sink in. If I were not already in shock from seeing God in a Starbucks outfit, I think I would be crying right now.


“Is there anything else I can do for you?” God asked, breaking me out of my trance.


“Huh? Oh, no I am good. . I think I will just go. . explore. .”


I wandered away from the desk, pondering of the amazing pieces of information I had just acquired. I saw a group playing a game of cards at one of the tables. That looked innocent enough, so I went that way.


“Why Marilyn, you have stolen my kingship!” smoothly said a man with a very familiar top hat and beard.


“I am so sorry, Mr. Lincoln,” came the sultry voice of. . Marilyn Monroe?! And there indeed the blonde sat to the left of. .


“Abraham! Remember your wife!” exclaimed a man that looked strangely like William Faulkner. Wait, could it be. . the REAL Faulkner?! If this were Faulkner and Marilyn, then the man in the hat was the sixteenth President of the United States! If I had not been dead already, I would be having a heart attack by now.


At Faulkner’s exclamation, a soft voice from the other side of the table muttered, “I hate men. .”


I turned to the direction of the voice to see the famous poet Emily Dickinson with cards in her hands. She being there alone would have been strange enough. The fact that she was sitting next to Mother Teresa just piled more weirdness on this sundae. Needless to say, it took a little while for me to speak.


“H-Hello everyone. .” My voice quivered as I spoke. At my surprise the group, minus Emily, screamed in delight.


“Hello there!” Abraham belted as he jumped from the table to vigorously shake my hand. “It is wonderful to see a new person at the table!”


“Oh Abe, you are scaring the child. . Come dear, come see your mother,” cooed Mother Teresa as she pulled me from Abraham’s grasp and led me to a chair beside her. It was then I noticed that I could understand her Aramaic, or whatever she spoke. That must be one of the little perks of being dead.


“What is your name, sweetie?” Marilyn said in that airy voice of hers.

“uh.. Marie,” I replied, conscious thought still evading me after such a hearty welcome.


I noticed Faulkner had been staring at me but he finally spoke up.


“You have nice skin. .”


“Why thank you, I think,” I muttered nervously, thinking of a way to change the subject. “So. . You have all been here since your deaths?”


“Of course, of course,” muttered Emily, more to herself than to me. “Damned to an eternal coffee house of eternal card games.”


“Do not mind her,” Marilyn said, covering my hand with hers and watching Emily with a wary eye. “But yes, we are all still here.”


“We are too damned famous to go down there again! People would recognize us! Nine to ya, Mother. .” Abraham said, tossing an nine card on the table.


“I see. I guess that makes sense.”


I watched them play and bicker back and forth, I myself staying silent. I looked around me and for the first time noticed that the little coffee shop was. . anything but little. The room was huge, but it did have to hold God knows (and I am sure she does) how many people. The coziness and quiet, however, was characteristic of a almost empty room.


After a few moments I looked back at the small group of card players.


“What is this game called again?” I asked. When I spoke, Abraham jumped as if he had forgotten I was there.


“Revolution.” Miss Emily said. It was the first time she had spoken directly to me.


“Hm. . Sounds fun. Deal me in next hand.”


“That’s a good girl!” Faulkner said. There was something very ominous about the smile that came to his lips.


I looked away from him, watching the game as I thought to myself. I should try and have a little fun before I got sent back to earth. I ought to look around a little bit too. I had always wondered what really happened to Anastasia, or Kurt Cobain, or. . man, I was going to have to write this down!