The man died.

And because he wasn't a narcotics officer or a child molester or a Dodger fan, he went to Heaven.

After clearing St. Peter and the Pearly Gates he strolled onto the first cloud he came to, and paused. He looked around to see if Heaven was all he thought it would be.

To his immediate left there was an exact replica of Frost Amphitheatre just as it sits on the Stanford University campus. On the stage was Lydia Pense and Cold Blood, circa 1969. The man smiled and nodded in approval. Out behind the stage he saw the unmistakeable sillouhette of Half Dome, with Yosemite Falls to the left in all its spring-time splendor. Again the man nodded. Just then something brushed his leg and he looked down to see all the dogs and cats he had ever known, and they were all happy and healthy.

As he was petting the first dog he ever had, he was approached by Willie Mays and Elizabeth Taylor, who had with them a silver tray with an iced, footed Pilsner glass filled with Sierra Nevada Porter alongside a fresh, crunchy baguette and a little mound of sliced Italian dry salami.

"Dude," Willie Mays said. "Hungry?"

The man took the tray and strolled over to a spot at the base of the falls, sat down and had a long pull of the cold beer. Foam was on his moustache. A moose crossed his path. Pelicans were in the sky. As he set the glass down he looked all around and said,




"Riiiiiiight."