by Pastor Pasqual in space #26

As a religious leader, I am sometimes asked to console the grieving when someone passes away.

Even if I had not heard the explosion and seen the flames shooting out of the trailer in space #8, I would have known a member of my flock had gone to Heaven because of all the crying faces and teary eyes that showed up on my doorstep. Well, two faces anyways--the deceased's wife Dot, and the deceased's drinking buddy Carl. And Carl's eyes weren't red from crying, they was red from drinking. But Dot was outright bawling her eyes out and hanging on me, covering the left shoulder of my bathrobe in tears and snot.

I know many of you are grieving Tod's demise, even if you don't show it. So I'll tell the whole trailer park the same things I told Dot to console her in these troubling times.

First of all, Tod went to Heaven. Period. He did not go in a southerly direction and he is not currently playing Yahtzee with Beelzebub.

Yes, Tod's body looked as though it had been dredged from the Lake of Fire in the middle of Hell. But that was only his bodily vessel what looked like that. His eternal everlasting soul flew up to Heaven and is probably trying to mooch change from Jesus for a Mickey's Big Mouth, if they have that shit up in Heaven.

Tod's scorched bodily vessel went to the medical college up the University for posthumous burn research, whatever the fuck that means. Tod sold his body to science for about 20 bucks back when he was homeless.

The guy that showed up in a bonebox to pick up Tod's body told me about the posthumous burn research awaiting the deceased once he reached the medical college. Apparently the doctors and med students up there never seen a human body all flash-roasted like that before, and they want to get a closer look.

If any of you start feeling sad for Tod, here's what you need to do. Think about Tod's soul floating free in the clouds, surrounded by harp-playing angels and Ray Charles and John Candy and Anil Roberts and Notorious B.I.G. and Marilyn Monroe and Michael Jackson's testicles and all the rotgut hooch he can stand.

Don't be thinking about stuff like every hair on Tod's head and body bursting into flames simultaneously and burning all the way down like miniature fuses. That only lasted for a split second. Heaven lasts forever.

Instead of feeling sorry for Tod, we should envy him, if anything. He's up there in the company of all the greatest actors and musicians and whatnot that ever walked the Earth. He can drink all he wants from a endless fountain of booze up there in Heaven, and nobody is bitching him out for it.

Tod's happier than a pig in shit now, and he'll be staying that way forever and ever, amen.

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