Crowded Afterlife – Sean Ennis

Two guys from the Sober Living house on highway 7 were outside of the Piggly Wiggly asking for donations. I had been to a couple AA meetings there and felt usually that I might be killed off by one of the other attendees. Lots of wood paneling, ankle bracelets, violent Jesus talk, and dirty dishes. No women or even a feminine touch. Of course, we’re all on our own journey. I didn’t donate, though they almost called out to me by name.

I have reached my free limit with Grace—must now pay and subscribe. So we watched a documentary about a haunted house a few counties away. The argument seemed to be that if there is enough limestone in the ground below, souls spend the afterlife in the house, putting forth the excruciating effort to open doors and push baseballs down the stairs. I don’t agree with this nightvision argument. My only insight about the afterlife is that it must be filled with so many insects, so many you can’t even go outside.