How Many Beers?
On that airplane ride last week I finished my beer and turned it to my lips, draining every last drop. I turned to my coworker and said - "Another dead beer."
He just sort of looked at me - there's not a lot to say about that, is there?
Letting a couple of moments pass, and looking out the small window, thinking about the grand universe, I said - "What if there's a beer limit in heaven?"
My coworker stared at me.
"What if we're only supposed to have so many through the course of our lives and God is keeping count?"
"You're out of your freaking mind," he said. "I know you're a writer and all, but who thinks of that shit?"
"Seriously, I get there, thinking I've lived a great life and God says "You had 72,436 beers - and you were only allowed 50,000."
"Why would he allow you 50,000 beers?" my coworker asked, finally buying in. "Maybe it's a hundred thousand limit."
"I hope so," I said.
I wanted another beer. Thankfully it was a short flight.
"I've had more than you," my coworker said. "And now I'm friggen worried. Thanks for ruining my evening." He still had some left in his can.
There wasn't a lot more to say on the subject. In fact, I was immersed in looking out the window again.
"Say, wouldn't it be easier to live if we knew for sure what the rules are?"
"They say the rules are in the Bible," I said.
"I guess," he said. "The 50,000 beer rule is easier to understand though. Perhaps you should write a better rule book."
"Better than the Bible?" I asked.
We both started laughing. "You mean you can't do it?" he asked.
"Shut-up and finish your beer," I said. "That's the final nail in your coffin. That's the one that's going to send you to the fiery furnaces of hell."
"I need to change my seat," he said.
He just sort of looked at me - there's not a lot to say about that, is there?
Letting a couple of moments pass, and looking out the small window, thinking about the grand universe, I said - "What if there's a beer limit in heaven?"
My coworker stared at me.
"What if we're only supposed to have so many through the course of our lives and God is keeping count?"
"You're out of your freaking mind," he said. "I know you're a writer and all, but who thinks of that shit?"
"Seriously, I get there, thinking I've lived a great life and God says "You had 72,436 beers - and you were only allowed 50,000."
"Why would he allow you 50,000 beers?" my coworker asked, finally buying in. "Maybe it's a hundred thousand limit."
"I hope so," I said.
I wanted another beer. Thankfully it was a short flight.
"I've had more than you," my coworker said. "And now I'm friggen worried. Thanks for ruining my evening." He still had some left in his can.
There wasn't a lot more to say on the subject. In fact, I was immersed in looking out the window again.
"Say, wouldn't it be easier to live if we knew for sure what the rules are?"
"They say the rules are in the Bible," I said.
"I guess," he said. "The 50,000 beer rule is easier to understand though. Perhaps you should write a better rule book."
"Better than the Bible?" I asked.
We both started laughing. "You mean you can't do it?" he asked.
"Shut-up and finish your beer," I said. "That's the final nail in your coffin. That's the one that's going to send you to the fiery furnaces of hell."
"I need to change my seat," he said.
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