THE STRAIGHTAWAY
by Siddy HallEarnhardt's Dilemma: Saint Peter Ain't a Race Fan
Dale Earnhardt stood looking down at the clouds near his feet. He was listening to a Saint Peter lecture, one that Earnhardt had nearly memorized by now. Saint Peter was saying, “From here I send a person up to the Kingdom of Heaven, or down to the eternal Sea of Fire. Your case is rare, Mr. Earnhardt. A man like you could spend eternity in Hell…”
Satan swooped by while hollering, “He’s mine! He’s mine! Dale Earnhardt will look splendid with a pair of horns. I have special plans for him.”
Saint Peter continued, “For some reason many people prayed for you after your death. So we’re allowing you more time to explain yourself. Perhaps some witnesses will arrive who can testify on your behalf about your Goodness.”
Dale Earnhardt lifted his head towards Saint Peter and said, “When Richard Childress hired Chocolate Myers, I said ‘Thank God.’”
Saint Peter quietly shook his head. He said, “Those are words. How about your actions, your aggressive driving?”
“Like I've said before, that Terry Labonte wreck at Bristol…that was one of them racin’ deals.”
“Which Terry Labonte wreck at Bristol, Mr. Earnhardt?”
“The first one,” replied Earnhardt. “The second one, Terry said something to his spotter, who told my spotter, who told me something nasty about my Mama. It was all an accident.”
"... that Terry Labonte wreck at Bristol…that was one of them racin’ deals.”
Saint Peter wasn’t moved. He said, “Mr. Earnhardt, of all your dirty deeds there is one that requires explaining. 1995. Daytona. The IROC race. On the final lap of that race heading towards Turn 3 you sent the race leader, Al Unser, Jr. head-first into the wall. And again, I must emphasize that this was merely an IROC race. What possessed you to behave this way?”
“Well, I thought I was doing everyone a big favor.”
Saint Peter said, “Mr. Earnhardt, we send spirits into the world to watch people like you. Our records indicate that not only did you wreck Al Unser, Jr. but you did so with a smile that could only be described as ‘devilish.’”
Dale Earnhardt’s head sank.
Saint Peter continued, “Mr. Earnhardt, you need some help and you need it quick. I cannot keep delaying my decision on this.”
Earnhardt nodded, took a deep breath and looked out at the long line of the recently deceased leading up to the Pearly Gates. Suddenly, he saw a gray bushy-haired figure that looked familiar. It was Bobby Hamilton. They shook hands. “Bobby, how are you? Where’d you wreck at?”
“No wreck, Dale. Natural causes.”
Bobby Hamilton
“I’m sorry to hear that, Bobby. Hey, I’m so glad to see you. I can really use a drafting partner right now. Can you go tell Saint Peter something nice about me? My eternal salvation is at stake.”
“Sure, Dale. But is he gonna ask me about you wreckin’ me?”
Earnhardt’s eyes widened. “I wrecked you? Where?”
“At Rockingham. I was going for my first win and you destroyed me.”
Earnhardt threw his head back and groaned. “Dang it, Bobby. Sometimes I’d see you in that STP car and I’d have a flashback and think that you were Petty. How is Richard, by the way?”
“Oh he’s fine. He’s the governor of North Carolina.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” Both men shook their heads and laughed.
Earnhardt said, “Dagnabit, I need someone who can help. Where’s Marcis?”
“Dave is alive and well,” replied Hamilton.
“Who else? Who else? Barney Hall. Naw, Barney’ll live to 100.”
Just then a figure appeared from the crowd. It was a balding, older man with gleaming eyes and a bright smile.
“BP!!! Benny !!” Earnhardt slid to his knees as he greeted Benny Parsons.
"Saint" Benny?
Parsons said, “Hi Dale, Hi Bobby. Look at this place. Oh Man!! Can you believe it!!!?”
Earnhardt said, “Benny, I’m in trouble. I really need your help right now. Can you say something to Saint Peter for me? Something nice?”
Parsons replied, “Why sure. By the way, Dale. Gordon’s only one win away from you last time I checked.”
Earnhardt said, “Well, maybe if I can pass inspection then I can ask God to throw a lightning bolt at him.”
Everybody threw their heads back and laughed as Saint Peter gave Dale Earnhardt a stern glare. Benny Parsons led Earnhardt towards Saint Peter and said, “I have to say that this man, Dale Earnhardt is very special. In fact, he’s the single most finest man that I have ever known. So many people love him.”
Saint Peter paused then said, “Mr. Earnhardt, you are a very lucky man. Praise is one thing, but to be praised by this gentleman is another. I’m looking at this short list in front of me and on it is the name Benny Parsons. Mr. Parsons is about to become a Saint. He’ll be known as Saint Benny.”
He continued, “Mr. Earnhardt, you are a very unusual case. But I think we have a place for you in Heaven. You see, we have a certain group of angels, those who, how shall I say, are borderline angels. Their purpose is actually very simple. They are to fly around and make sure that the other angels have no lint in their wings. We call these angels the Feather Flufferers.”
Earnhardt’s eyes began to narrow and his growing grin began to fade.
Saint Peter went on, “So your job for eternity will be to fluff the feathers and shine the halos of those people that you used to torment.”“My feathers will need fluffin’,” said the smiling Bobby Hamilton. “A lot.”
Dale Earnhardt stood and thought for a moment. Then he imagined himself fluffin’ the feathers of Al Unser, Jr. He barked, “I’m not fluffin’ no Indy Car---.” Suddenly, Earnhardt’s back stiffened as he felt a boot in his butt.
Saint Benny wrapped his arm around Dale’s shoulder and said, “Dale Earnhardt will be just a terrific Feather Flufferer. Won’t you, Dale?”
Dale only nodded.
Benny continued, “It’s O.K. Dale. You can be fluffin’ Neil Bonnett’s feathers while he’s huntin’ and you can tell him where to point his rifle.”
Saint Peter said, “Dale Earnhardt, you may enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
(e-mail Siddy Hall: cityhall172000 at yahoo.com)
5 comments:
The day Dale Earnhardt kneeled down to Parsons would be a cold day in hell.
Dale Sr. was without a doubt, one of the dirtiest drivers out there and in my opinion, by NASCAR allowing him to get away with it is responsible for the dirty driving going on today. St. Peter would be right to be in doubt as to whether or not to let him in to Heaven based solely on that. However, I think his actions off the track and the way he treated and helped people he didn’t even know would definitely get him a ticket in.
Thanks is great! thanks!
Dale Earnhardt was a feather "ruffler" not a feather "flufferer."
BP wouldn't expect anyone to kneel! Dale had more success but no many had the class of BP.
Post a Comment