“Wedding or a funeral?” I ask as soon as he gets in, turning the AC vent, already pumping at 11, straight onto his reddened midwestern face.
“I play the organ for whatever they got” he says, unbuttoning the too-chic-for-the-job jacket on his portly torso.
“Sounds like a fun gig?”
“Actually a full time thing” he says “I am not complaining, I make money playing music”
“And are you one with the message?” I ask, meaning the church.
“No” and then he makes a growling sound followed by some mild wheezing as the if the question brought on an asthma attack. “I suppose I subscribe to somewhat biblical version of afterlife. Being brought up catholic and all.”
“Oh yeah?” I say “And what would this even look like?”
“I basically imagine tastefully done interior with brilliant hues and rainbows and clouds where you wander around in the best version of your body and you still get to eat wonderful food..
“Yeah but do you poop?” I ask
“And also have sex with really hot guys.” he says, ignoring my question.
“So your version of heaven is pretty much an all hours club in the Castro”
“Now that you put it that way..”
“What part of the bible…”
“I don’t think it exactly says that. This is just my ballpark interpretation” He pauses. “But I feel strongly it is correct”