These are the questions I want answered when I die.

Guys.

I’ve worked out what Heaven is.

Well… my own non-religious-but-still-hedging-my-bets version, anyway.

Everyone has a theory about Heaven. Fluffy white clouds, lots of soft floaty things and flowers (unless you have hay fever, in which case Hell), etc. I always picture this scene in the awful Adam Sandler movie Little Nicky that shows Heaven exactly as it should be. With feather-covered chairs and Reese Witherspoon angels.

Here’s the scene from Little Nicky. It’s in Spanish, because I’m bilingual in Heaven (and couldn’t find it English on YouTube):

Anyway, in my Heaven, there’ll be non-cancerous sunshine. There’ll be endless supplies of calorie-free Nutella. There’ll be Jake Gyllenhaal topless and interested. There’ll be pretty things with wings and endless reruns of Friends.

But most importantly, there’ll be answers.

ANSWERS, DAMMIT.

You know how they say ‘curiosity killed the cat’? I’m the cat. I’m probably even the curious person who killed the curious cat just to see if the nine lives thing was actually true.

And as a curious person, I have a LOT of questions. Questions that have been festering inside my curious mind, like a worm inside an apple (HOW DID IT GET THERE? Curious…).

I like to think, that when I land myself in Heaven (provided that a) it exists and b) I make the cut*), an angel or God-dude or Reese Witherspoon or someone will hand me a giant book, full of the answers to:

ALL THE LIFE QUESTIONS I WANT ANSWERED WHEN I DIE. 

What are the eleven secret herbs and spices?

Did my neighbours accidentally run over my cat Cuddles and pretend they didn’t?

What did the tenth nutritionist recommend instead of Weetbix?

What really happened to the Malaysia Airlines planes (BOTH)?

Was the moon landing real or a conspiracy?

Who farted in the car and didn’t own up when I was eleven?

Where are the Beaumont children?

How is it possible that I read aloud in my head?

Did Helen Keller see and hear things inside her head?

What actually happened to Azaria Chamberlain?

Who was the first person who cut mangoes in the criss-cross fancy way?

What did you do with Harold Holt?

What are hiccups and why do the exist?

Where did I leave my brand new blue and white Canterbury jumper when I was 17?

What was the name of that blond boy I kissed at that pub at the end of high school?

Did he kill my Cuddles?

So those are the most pressing of my questions. It may be morbid, but I’m looking forward to a death full of answers. If you can answer any of them before then, I will consider you God.

Or the person that killed my cat.

What questions are you hoping to have answered in the Afterlife (regardless of what it looks like…)?

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