When last we left Sam, he was under house arrest, plotting to end his contract in Heaven by destroying physical reality.

Tied to my chair, a grand plan for how to transfer everything from physical reality into Heaven popped into my head. As the idea flooded my brain, my eyes widened with a joy I hadn’t felt since I was tricked into being born. That was back when my head was still full of propaganda about making a difference, and being an important part of the universe. Man, was I naïve.

“The grand plan” came to me on the last day of my house arrest as I rapidly channel surfed. Having grown tired of watching things in heat and intergalactic warfare some days earlier, I bounded from one camera in one corner of the universe to the next, looking for anything remotely interesting, but found nothing. I mean, I was jaded before my house arrest, but at this point I was what Gleetonians called “glurpy,” which roughly means, “To be at a point so distant from wary as to make jaded appear joyous.” I was so glurpy in fact that I was no longer certain the term “decency” applied to anything in the entire universe. To me it was a mocking term like “perfection.”

“20 minutes to go, Sammy,” taunted the doughbag angel Clarence, who stood guard outside my door.

Little did I know then that I was about to hatch my plan and have all my glurpiness vanish. For you see, the thought of the Gleetonians made me curious about what was going on with good old Gleetonina. So I flipped to the wide shot of the hazy purple and pink planet. It was in that moment I gained inspiration from the most dazzlingly, and profound sight . . .

The entire planet was in the grips of a super massive black hole, which was slowly but surely consuming the entire planet. Both of Gleetonina’s stars had been sucked away, and all life on the planet including every single Gleetonian had already perished. That meant that all the Gleetonians were already in Heaven. There was no fucking or fighting to be found within 65 trillion kilometers of the system.

That’s when it hit me — black holes are the universe’s drains, sucking physical reality into Heaven, system by system. If the “Big Bang” was a showerhead spraying all life out of Heaven into the universe, than black holes are the drains which carry it all back — the best part being that God, or whomever, placed these drains in the center of galaxies all over the universe. That means that someone in Heaven has to be in charge of managing them.

My plan was simple: I’d find a way to turn up the suction of every black hole in the universe, causing all of physical reality to be quickly transferred to Heaven. Then I’d be released from my contract and I could be with my sweet Gena!

Moments after this revelation, while I was still buzzed with excitement, I was escorted back to my work station. On approach, the smirk on my face was made glurpy again by the sight of my great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandchild sitting frozen as he was a week earlier. The glass from last week’s broken light was sprinkled all over him and the floor. Everything was as I had left it when I went AWOL, except that the line waiting to be examined had been increased by a day’s work for each day of my absence. What a piss-off.

One of the escorts handed me a broom, another a replacement light bulb and the third, Clarence, handed me a potato.

They held back snickers as I gracelessly climbed up the body of my great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandchild and used his shoulders to reach the light socket above his head. As I screwed the new light in, my great grandchild flailed back to life, hurling me to the floor. The escorts burst with laugher as I hit the concrete and got cut on some of the glass shards.

Not wanting the escorts to take what little dignity remained, I dusted myself off, grabbed the clipboard from the floor and put on a welcoming smile. My distant relative looked scared and confused. Scanning the clipboard I sighed, “Hello, Frank. Yes you are dead, and yes we do look a lot alike. I’m a distant relative of yours.”

Frank began to get upset, and the laughter stopped.

“Anything you want noted before you’re assigned a new home?”

“Will it make any difference? I’m fucking dead!”

“Sometimes it does.”

There was a long pause as I let Frank’s emotions run their course.

“Well then,” he eventually sniffled. “I want it noted that despite not showing it much, I loved my mother.”

I patted my great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandchild on the shoulder. “OK Frank. That’s all I’ll need.”

As I went to press the button and send him on his way, Clarence nudged me roughly.

“Oh yes, and that thing I said before about not signing things. Well, you should probably sign whatever you’re asked to sign. There’s not many other options as it turns out,” I explained nervously then winked.

Pressing the big red button, Frank vanished.

I gave him 5/5, and in my explanation wrote, “Because he loved his mother.” A rare trait, even in Heaven.