Heaven Is A Deal by Michael Gerber

“He was an atheist? That is priceless!”

It was bad enough to have been made a fool of by the Little Professor, I didn’t need to sit there and listen to my ungrateful Hell-bound daughter take pleasure in my disappointment. “Laugh it up,” I yelled. “I guess you don’t want a computer!”

The laughter stopped so fast it was like a spigot had been turned off. The door opened a crack. “What?”

I paused at the top of the stairs. “Nothing. I was just saying that Mom and I were trying to write this book so we could get internet here in the house, and a computer for you.”

The door opened a little wider. “Any kind of computer?” Hayden asked. “Even a Mac?”

I was careful not to lie directly. “I’m sure the boy who saw Heaven has a bunch of computers. Any kind he wants.”

“And you’re not going to kill anybody?”

“Hay, this is your dad,” I said, a little hurt. “Sixth commandment, remember?” It didn’t mention anything about near-killing.

“All right,” Hayden said, a determined look on her face. “Let me make a phone call.”

Three minutes later, Griselda was on her way back to Bob’s to get the nitrous, and Heather, Hayden’s friend from Girl Scouts, was standing at the front door. “Hi, Mr. Creepo.”

“Hi Heather,” I said.  “What can I do for…”

Hayden came galumphing down the stairs. “It’s all right, Dad, you don’t have to lie. I told Heather all about it.”

“Really?” I felt a thousand pounds lift from my shoulders. I’m a simple, honest person; lying has never come easily to me. If I hadn’t been doing it for a good cause—for the best cause—

“So, where’s the gas?” Heather said, plopping down on the couch. I forgot how tall she was for her age. Popping her Bazooka like some sort of trollop, Heather brazenly flipped through one of Griselda’s copies of Godly Decorating. “Doing nitrous’ll totally remind me of third grade.”

I gulped. “You were getting high in third grade?”

“You grew up here, didn’t you? What the heck else is there to do?”

What else? Well, there was baseball, and church, and shooting stuff with a .22—but I held my temper. Instead of all that, I said, “Heather, I don’t know what Hayden has told you about her family, but in this house, we don’t use the word ‘heck.’”