Cosmic Correspondents Dinner
Chapter 1: In the beginning, there was a transgender comedian
In celebration of the 250th birthday of the “Great American Experiment” today, I decided to exercise some of that freedom that it supposedly stands for.
Hope you enjoy, have a great holiday weekend with loved ones, and well, … if I disappear, know that I’m on the run or that the American Gestapo got me.
“Sweet. I’m Aphrodite, but most people around here call me Di. Welcome to the Afterlife.”
The crazy woman in front of her introducing herself as a Greek goddess, even if she definitely seemed like she could be a goddess of love, beauty, and desire, held a hand out to Emma, so she took it and shook it automatically. “So I’m dead?”
“Yup, but hey, we heard that you were really funny, so don’t worry, you scored a fast track here to Afterlife Pro Max. We really need someone new for the Cosmic Correspondents Dinner tonight.”
Content / Trigger Warning:
Puritanical whack jobs, do not continue past this point! You will clutch a pearl necklace of some kind while gasping “Oh, the humanity!”
Kids shouldn’t continue past this point, but just until you’re older!
Unless you’re trying to escape the theocracy, in which case, read ASAP!
Disclaimer:
The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblances or references to real world people (dead or alive), places, organizations, events, and influence from the same, unless explicitly stated as so, should be considered as part of this work of fiction and not a factual representation, opinion, or endorsement of the same.
Somewhere…
Emma Jade
The last thing that she remembered was the terrible body odor of the guy that got mad when she rejected him, then decided to attack and kill her.
So, in other words, a day ending in y “For All Womankind.” Brought to you by the Patriarchy.
All of that meant that wherever she was, she was probably dead. Not Alive. Departed from the mortal coil. Or whatever other BS people said to explain the act of toodaloo-ing off of Earth.
As weird as it was, more so than the simple, overhyped thing that was her “life” as it was defined by everyone else, what she was most mad about was losing what she actually lived for. Her comedy.
It started out as a way for her to cope with her existence, something that she had never had the opportunity to consent to or even opt-out of, but quickly became a way for her to connect with the world around her. Something she could no longer do.
“Hey, are you Emma Jade?”
She turned around towards the sound of the voice, but she couldn’t see anything. Everything wasn’t even black. It just didn’t exist.
“Oh, whoops, sorry this is my first time having to greet the newcomer.”
Boink.
She felt a tap on her head, or whatever was the equivalent of that in whatever the hell this place was.
All of a sudden, she could see a lobby looking place all around her, and as she finished turning around, she saw a woman that could only be described by two words. “Sapphic Awakening.”
“Hi, so are you Emma Jade?”
“That’s a me,” Emma squeaked out. Her brain had always gone kaput in the presence of pretty girls and this woman or being or whatever definitely fit that characterization.
“Sweet. I’m Aphrodite, but most people around here call me Di. Welcome to the Afterlife.”
The crazy woman in front of her introducing herself as a Greek goddess, even if she definitely seemed like she could be a goddess of love, beauty, and desire, held a hand out to Emma, so she took it and shook it automatically. “So I’m dead?”
“Yup, but hey, we heard that you were really funny, so don’t worry, you scored a fast track here to Afterlife Pro Max. We really need someone new for the Cosmic Correspondents Dinner tonight.”
“Afterlife Pro Max? Cosmic Correspondents Dinner?”
“Oh yeah, right, you wouldn’t know what those are. Uhh, so let’s see. We renamed this new gated community of the Afterlife to Afterlife Pro Max just to mess with Steve Jobs since he wasn’t happy about how Apple ended up and well, he was a butthead when we didn’t let him in. We totally would have let him in if he’d looked like you though.” Aphrodite looked at her with a mixture of fascination and desire, and Emma gulped as Aphrodite continued explaining. “Then for the Cosmic Correspondents Dinner, Jesus, Mohammed, and that con artist that made those whackadoo Mormons got shitfaced once while hanging out and observing the White House Correspondents Dinner roasts and well, ... they wouldn’t shut up until the rest of us all agreed to do a Cosmic version. So once a year, we invite the Pope, an Ayatollah, a Mufti, some Protestants that get picked at random since they don’t seem to do hierarchy so well, and so on for the other religions, and we do a big party.”
“And you all need a comedian?”
“Yeah, who else is going to do the roasting? The ones we already have are all saying that they’re retired now and don’t want to have to work the event and well, if we have to listen to Noah say that stupid ‘God’s favorite coffee is He-brews’ joke one more time, we might have an Afterlife civil war. Are you worried that you can’t make good religious jokes?”
Emma grew up in American Evangelical Christianity, where the threats of fire and brimstone to sell authoritarianism as divinely ordained led to stupid things like purity culture. Where blowjobs and anal were used to maintain the stupid societal construct of “virginity” and because they would hurt way more or feel more degrading, which was the ultimate end goal of the patriarchy. As part of her escape, once she was rescued by Uncle Sam’s Rainbow Corps from the conversion therapy her parents had sent her to, she had started doing stand up with what she knew — Religion.
Or if she thought of it a different way, she’d been training her whole life for that moment.
“I’m sorry, but have you ever heard any good stand up comedy? It’s all religious. I’ve got you girl.”
“Oh, thank me.” Aphrodite said, before taking her hand again and pulling her along with her as she walked off. “And I heard you’re a sapphic girlie. So if you still have energy after the Cosmic Correspondents Dinner Roast, Sappho and I are hosting an orgy. We have a pussy eating contest if you want to judge. Mary says that her clit is still buzzing from the last one and is too sensitive for tonight. Wimpy ass Nazarene.”
The Evangelical Christians back where she was from would lose their minds at all of this, which made the only thing she could think to say all that much better. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”
Next time on Cosmic Correspondents Dinner
Interfaith Comedy Kazerne, Afterlife Pro Max, Afterlife
Emma Jade
“And without further ado, I would like to introduce our performer for tonight, Emma Jade. Emma’s a newcomer to the Afterlife, after having been strangled by some idiot who didn’t like that there were women that could have at some point had bigger dicks than him and that he was attracted to them. And no, before you ask, I’m not talking about you, Charlie Kirk.”
Robin Williams paused as the room erupted into laughter, before continuing on. “Anyways, hey Jesus, where you at?”
A hand slowly rose up somewhere in the middle of the room as the room resumed laughing.
“This one is on you broseph from Joseph.” Robin Williams said, drawing even more laughs and making Emma feel worried that she might not be up to the task. “Why can’t your followers get their shit together and realize that ass is awesome. They both have an A at the beginning. Oh, that’s right, they don’t tend to do very well at school. You know, that liberal indoctrination that they insist needs to be replaced by Christofascist indoctrination.”
… (to be continued)
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About the Author
K.E. Bartlet (KEBartlet.com)
is an author, professional hacker turned cyber warrior turned everyday whackadoo, former Silicon Valley engineer, university professor, and survivor of Uncle Sam’s Big Green … Weenie. She loves to hack life through its cheat codes, dumplings, and disappearing into a good book even while traveling around the world.
For anyone who’s read this far, she uses a pen name since she only slept through part of her OPSEC training after running out of snacks.
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