me and kurt cobain were waiting for a bus.

i had recently been murdered, as wonderfully reported by the sorority girl’s sexy jailbait sister.

we were waiting for this bus, ironically in death valley, california, where apparently the recently dead go to prepare themselves for the ascension, the judgement and whatever comes after that.

kurt was humming.

“how often do you have to do this sort of thing?” i asked.

not often. they knew that i would be good match for you, though, so i said okay.

he went back to humming.

he looks younger than you’d think and i asked him about it and he said that after he shot his face off they pointed a magic wand at him and poof it was back.

“what are you humming?” i finally had to ask. it was killing me.

that new j.lo song. im just jenny, jenny on the block. i used to have a little, now i got a lot. im just jenny, jenny on the block.

kurdt was the one who said for us to kill our idols, right?

“are you enjoying heaven?”

yeah. my stomach doesnt hurt up there. nobody is yelling at me. i can just be normal. walk around. smoke. nobody gives me any shit. you can go into a bar, restaurant even, nobody gives you a dirty look. theres no “smoking” or “no smoking” sections. it’s civilized.

“are there any chores in heaven? things you have to do?”

you have to laugh on at least twelve different occasions before you go to bed. but thats not very hard. it’s super funny up there. people love cracking each other up. you also have to dance for at least 15 minutes a day. i usually get that out of the way as soon as i wake up.

“what did you dance to this morning?”

jenny on the block. then whitney’s “i wanna dance with somebody” then nelly “up in herre.”

“were you into r&b when you were alive?”

on earth i wasnt very much into that sort of music, but now i am big time.

i was starting to think i wasnt going to go to heaven at all.

i was starting to think it was all a very bad dream that was getting worse.

i thought maybe i was just gonna go straight to hell, when kurt started patting his knees with his palms and singing quietly

peggy sue, peggy sue,

pretty pretty pretty pretty peggy sue.

oh my peggy

my peggy sue.

oh, well, I love you gal, and I need you, peggy sue

and to be honest. part of it scared me. but then it really relaxed me and i started to float about a foot off the bench and kurt handed me a picture of him and his family taken around christmas time.

leaving those two is my biggest regret. if you put it in your pocket it will weigh you down until we get there.

i took it and put it in my front flannel pocket and it sent me down with a thud.

kurt floated a little but knew how to control it.

how come no one ever comments on your page, bro?

“i think they’re shy.”

maybe they dont like any of this.

“if they didnt like it, they’d say so. i just think they’re shy.” i said and then listened to kurt sing a little more.

gotham pictures

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