Dirk Snigby’s Guide to the Afterlife

– Jules Renard

This is the tale of the short happy life of Dirk Snigby. The time is perilously close to the present, or to be more precise, next Tuesday. Next Tuesday which was to arrive a week after last Tuesday, our hero had saved a cat. It was a neighbor’s cat and had gotten trapped in a storm drain, due to inquisitiveness and irresponsibility.  Dirk was a tall, lanky, slightly stooped man in his early forties. His leanness was extremely useful to the cat, as Dirk had been able to angle his long form down into the drain, grab the cat by the scruff of its neck and heave upward. The cat had not appeared particularly appreciative, scratching Dirk once sharply on the face. Leaping from his arms, it paused, turned and looked intently at him, blinking once slowly out of blue-green eyes, before hastily departing.   

A thin trickle of blood ran slowly into Dirk’s full lips, which would have been sensuous, had they not been tightened and pursed. His brown soulful eyes were sad. The only feature of Dirk’s that never appeared defeated or vanquished was his thick, glossy brown hair. This was due to genetics rather than grooming. Dirk’s mother, Lulu, had been a wild beauty. At nineteen, pregnant with Dirk, she had married, the union lasting just long enough for her to conceive Dirk’s sister, Mary.  

The departure of Dirk’s father was followed by a string of boyfriends, some of whom liked children, some of whom did not. Most had not stayed around long enough to make much of an impact.  Dirk longed for a loving father, if not on Earth, then in Heaven. He wanted to confide his troubles to someone and be comforted.  

Dirk read:  

He loves His creatures great and small,

He notices each time they fall.

As God protects the sparrow you see,
He surely watches over you and me.

  It sounded good, but Dirk had seen some pretty pathetic sparrows in his life; if they were an example of the Creator’s attention to detail, he was not impressed. God may have been watching them fall, but He didn’t appear to be too upset about it.           

As Dirk grew, he dreamed of traveling to distant lands, chronicling diverse cultures and mysterious peoples. He would build bridges with words creating worlds and understanding with his pen   But first, he needed traveling money.   

At twenty-two, Dirk took a job with the advertising firm of Pesky, Pesky, & Pesky Inc., planning to build up a small nest egg, and take off. However, the years passed and Dirk remained.  In spite of endless innovation, he remained nothing but a nine-to-five slave, trapped; it seemed, until retirement in an airless cell of Pesky, Pesky, & Pesky Inc. There, Dirk toiled without joy and for scant salary, trying to make people covet the uncovetable, furnishing products with snappy, often salacious, slogans, held captive by fear and his 401K plan, ensnared in a pair of golden (or more accurately, bronze or perhaps tin) handcuffs—security that kept him chained to nowhere.  

He was designed for better things. He must be, else what was the point of life? Laboring to convince fat women that the “Jell-O Diet Plan” would make them thin? That Macho Beer would gain an ugly man the attentions of a roomful of beautiful babes?   

The fat and the ugly would both soon be the quick and the dead, he reasoned, their weight and repulsiveness of no more import or memory than litheness and loveliness. There must be a greater purpose. There must be more to life than… life.  

Of course, Dirk realized he was hardly the first to find the ephemera of reality disheartening. Even Neanderthals had put flowers in the graves of their dead.

Dirk looked for meaning in life, and finding none, or at least not a unified-meaning theory, considered the afterlife. Was life after death just fear of death? 

After all, if a tree falls in the forest and I don’t hear it, who cares?    

Dirk felt like a chimp trying to understand NASA. If he couldn’t figure out this life, how could he hope to comprehend the next one? Who could offer a cogent rationale for a tsunami or explain why one baby was born in Africa, to starve, suffer, and die, while another baby was born Paris Hilton, to diet, party, and pose naked? There are those who claim that we choose our own existence… But then, who would choose to be poor and sick? Who wouldn’t choose to be Paris Hilton—and why did Paris Hilton get to be Paris Hilton? Wouldn’t Gandhi have made a more deserving Paris Hilton?

People are born beautiful, brilliant, talented… or lucky. Was luck a gene, Dirk wondered? Paris Hilton, Ringo Starr, lottery winners….they all got the luck gene.

If there was an answer, it must be in the afterlife. Ah, the afterlife: therein lay both the solution and the conundrum. How could he follow the rules and get to Heaven if he didn’t know what the rules were? The only creed religions agree upon was that they were the way, the light and truth and everyone else was damned.  How was he supposed to make an educated choice?

Ask and it Shall be Given

I'd like to believe in the terrible truth, in the beautiful lie. 

– Neil and Tim Finn

Dirk entered his cheerless apartment. His décor, such as it was, had been unchanged for years, frozen in time. He had not planned to be there long, believing this was only a small way station before beginning life’s journey. His apartment was decorated with some ragged travel posters and a few faded Rousseau jungles from his college days. It was as though his apartment still possessed the dreams and wanderlust, though aged and weathered, that Dirk had lost.   

With a poignant sigh, he opened the refrigerator door and removed a beer. Slumping onto his overstuffed couch, he listlessly punched the remote control on his television. The TV, which usually required a good two minutes of snow and static before showing a fuzzy picture, immediately snapped sharply into focus. The picture was clear, the color bright.  

This was especially surprising because Dirk Snigby had a black-and-white TV. 

Gazing intently into Dirk’s eyes was a darkly handsome man. He was tan, with glossy raven hair, deep-set brilliant black eyes, and classical features. Dirk wondered if it was Carey Grant Classics night.

“Are you concerned about your future?” Carey asked in the sympathetic yet all-knowing voice used by newscasters and psychics.  

Dirk nodded.  

“Do you feel like you’re missing something?”  

Dirk inclined his head in agreement.  

“Do you feel there must be more to life? Do you wonder about the afterlife?”  

Dirk had disregarded the colorful transformation of his hitherto black-and-white set, but now he snapped sharply to attention.   

Why am I talking to Carey Grant? Dirk thought. And why is Carey Grant making an infomercial?  Still, Dirk had been in the ad business a long, long time, far too long to be suckered into something just because Carey Grant appeared to be addressing his recent thoughts.  

“We are now offering,” the handsome (if slightly smarmy) Carey look-alike continued, “a fully accredited course that will provide you with the answers to just such questions.  

“World Religion 101 is a brief yet comprehensive guide to all of the world’s major religions, with special emphasis on the afterlife and Heaven. Enroll now and all this knowledge can be yours (Here it comes, Dirk thought) for the amazing, incredible, phenomenally low, low, lowwww price of fifteen dollars.”  

Fifteen dollars, that is low. Too low.  

“Lest you fear the price is too low,” Carey continued smoothly, “be aware that this is a One-Time Offer only! After tonight, the price will return to its normal $575.”  

Whew, thought Dirk, that’s quite a difference. Why?  

“Quite a difference, eh?” Carey continued, “Why, you may ask… why are we offering such a low, low, lowww price tonight? Knowledge, my friends! We want to encourage the quest for knowledge!”  

I’ll bet. You want to encourage the quest for more money in your pocket.  

“Skeptical? If not completely satisfied with the knowledge you receive, we will offer a ten-day, one-hundred-percent money-back guarantee. Simply call 1-800 1HEAVEN… that’s…1-800-443-2836 to reserve your space tonight!”  

What have I got to lose? It’s only fifteen dollars.  

“After all, what have you got to lose… except your ignorance? You can learn more about us at our website, whatsinafterlife.com, and register on-line at the same time. In fact, as a special introduction to our website, first time users only will get a special thank-you bonus. That’s whatsinafterlife.com.”  

Suddenly the color flashed off and was replaced by the usual black-and-white static and snow.  Jeeze, That’s some connection! They must have a really powerful signal.  

Dirk rose and slouched over to his laptop. He pressed on the power, but before he finished typing whatsinafterlife.com, his computer flashed into brilliant color.  

Welcome Dirk flashed on the screen.  

Wow, computers are amazing. I used to have to log on before it would greet me by name.  

Do you wonder about the meaning of life, or even if there is a meaning?  

Yes.  

Well, wonder no longer. Instead, take advantage of our amazing introductory offer. No, that’s NO money down. Simply press the yes button flashing NOW. Not only do you receive our materials absolutely free of charge, a $560 saving, but also this Thursday an exceptionally qualified instructor will be available to answer all your questions.  

That’s tomorrow, there’s no way I can receive and read any materials by then.   Nevertheless, almost without volition, Dirk moved his mouse over the “yes” and clicked.  

Congratulations! We’ll see you tomorrow night at 8:00 pm at Elysium College near you!  

I’ve never heard of Elysium College.  

Need a map?  

Before Dirk could answer, a map flashed onto the screen.  

It’s right around the corner, strange that I never noticed that street before. How weird, I could have sworn that I knew every street in this neighborhood.  

Dirk’s musings were interrupted by a loud thud. He walked over to the door and, upon opening it, found in his entryway a bulky package with his name emblazoned on it in fiery letters.  Dirk hauled it into the living room, peeled off the tape, and tore it open. Inside lay a large manuscript, bound in dark wine-red leather. It was warm to the touch and read, Religion and the Afterlife 101

Amazing, how on earth could they possibly deliver so quickly? Either this is a first-class operation, or they are really desperate for enrollment. 

He pulled out the manuscript, and, beer in hand, slowly began perusing the contents.  

Dirk could not remember afterward what he had read, or indeed even if he had read. But that night he dreamed of burgundy manuscripts and warm velum pages covered in arcane symbols. As he watched, the black letters changed to scuttling crabs that raced along the pages, and the velum uncurled itself, turning into a sandy shore along an azure sea.