Angelic Bushmen

I'd like to imagine that heaven really exists at some coordinate out in space (outerspace...innerspace...you know.  It doesn't have to be wicked far away).  I think it would be a pleasant surprise after you die.  You'd be swaggering down the street then you hear 'Pckewww!' and all of a sudden you're handed a harp or something and you grow wings and then you sit down at the bar like those two little kids in that picture.  I'm sure it would probably happen waaaay different than that because in retrospect, well, what I said sounds kinda crappy.  I doubt you could really jam on one of those tiny harps and there's gotta be somthing better than wings for transportation.  I could actually go for some wings right now.  Sliders has these awesome garlic and parmesian wings that ruin your breath for days.  Oh!  I just remembered that we have leftover pizza!  I never used to eat leftover pizza because it's just not the same as regular, straight from the maker, pizza.  I still don't like it.  It smells funny and it has a spongier texture.  I'm pretty sure that it's because some of the steam carries water out of the pizza with it and changes its physical properties.  The microwave can't help either.  I don't like the thought of throwing my food under a radar to make it hot in some places.  It just doesn't sit as well as conventional heat sources.  I also don't like how I have to have some omniscient knowledge concerning what I can put into it.  I've just started using the microwave and already I've put a half dozen non-microwavable items in there.  It makes me feel like one of the lost boys of Sudan.  Everybody gets all freaked out when they see sparks and then all of a sudden I go from a normal, first-world citizen to a freakin' bushman.  I swear to god I'm gonna blow-dart the next person that gives me that incredulous look.  Pitwww!