Heaven Is A Deal by Michael Gerber

“Sorry,” Heather said. “H-dawg said you were pretty tight-assed.”

Ever hear something so shocking that you literally don’t know what to say? I could feel my mouth fall open, and it stayed that way long enough for my tongue to get dry. I’m sure my eyes were bugged out to there, too, because Hayden laughed. H-dawg? My daughter’s nickname was H-dawg?

“I wish I had my iPhone,” Heather brayed. “That would be an awesome screensaver.”

I didn’t offer Heather anything to eat or drink because, frankly, I wanted her out of my house as quickly as possible. I also didn’t want her corrupting my daughter, and planned to forbid the two of them from ever speaking to each other again. But for the moment I had to forbear, because the end was in sight. Heather wasn’t four, and she wasn’t a little boy, but as Hayden explained, that was actually a good thing. “It’ll be a totally new market, Dad. Look, people like to read about themselves, and seventy percent of book buyers—not to mention eighty percent of book readers—are female. Heather’s story is that of a virtuous young girl”—

Heather snorted.

“—who narrowly  escapes death, returning with even more information about Heaven. If he met Jesus and John the Baptist, Heather met all the Apostles! Maybe there’s a reunion every Thursday night, a Weekly Supper, just for old times’ sake. If he saw some relatives, Heather saw—”

“Heath Ledger,” Heather chimed in.

“Sure,” Hayden said, “and Michael Jackson.”

“I highly doubt Michael Jackson made it to—”

“Dad, Dad, you’re not getting it. This isn’t about the real Heaven, and the real Jesus. It’s some small-town preacher cashing in on his son’s weirdo imagination. If it makes people feel better, fine, there’s no harm in it. Except for maybe the part where the kid predicts Armageddon, that’s icky.”

I stood up. “Hayden Caitlin Creepo, I will not sit here and listen to you turn my religion into a crass commercial exercise! People have died for my right to be a Christian, and—”

“Speak of the Devil,” Heather laughed. “Here’s an article about it.” She folded back a page of Christian Homemaker. “No way Jesus looks like this.”

Hayden laughed, too. “He looks like that singer from the Nineties, the gay one. Wake me up, before you go-go…”

“Or maybe McDreamy from ‘Grey’s Anatomy,’” Heather said.

“I so wish I could watch that show,” Hayden shot me a dirty look. “My parents don’t let me watch anything.”