Sgarbe arrives in heaven

In 2088, I am finally dead of natural causes. I arrive at the “other side” and meet God (it seems to be). Pardon the indiscretion, it is an “energy” (laughs) younger, prettier, thinner, and more smiling than I imagined. When we look at each other, we both end up with a crooked smile, each holding back a guffaw.

I started:

—Lord God, thank you very much for receiving me, I presume you are the Lord God. But, if you are not, my respect is on record. — At attention, I bow my head. I hold the sides of my trousers at the waist and bend my knees. I explain. — That is how we had to do it for Mrs. Regina. — He smiles, and brings a hand to his mouth. — Very interesting space you have, congratulations. The Masons will go nuts when they find out the Architect is a fan of Russian minimalism! — I make a little gun with my hand. I smile hidiotically. — Anyway, I have to ask a question, because I committed in life to doing so. — And the whole mood changes, because we had finally reached the only subject of the conversation. — Why on earth are you not more objective?