Neville was dead. "Dead as a doornail," some might say. Neville wouldn't say that though, because he was dead. Dead people didn't usually say anything, so neither would Neville.
Neville opened his eyes and began to both admire and speculate on his surroundings… on heaven. Since heaven was his new home, Neville decided he would like it, although it was rather plain. You see, for those of you who have not yet experienced this particular phenomenon called heaven, it was very white. That was just about all Neville could gather to say about it. It was what it was and it was simply white.
Heaven was supposed to be a place in which one could feel, hear and see all the things, which one had loved most while one was still alive. At least, that was what Neville had thought, but he had thought it before he died so he had had no former experience in the matter. Now that he had died, Neville reconsidered and decided that heaven was reasonably…boring.
Neville sniffed. He wanted to see whether heaven smelled better than it looked. This was a definite possibility. He had learned this method helped profusely in any situation but especially when dealing with Neville's grandmother's cooking. It didn't smell particularly pleasant either. Heaven smelled like stale coffee and cleaning fluid. Neville hadn't thought the smells of stale coffee and cleaning fluid had been particularly close to his heart, but he supposed they could be. Those smells reminded Neville of his parents, and his parents made him a bit depressed. He preferred not to think of hospitals while he was dead, he had had quite enough of them when he was alive.
Very suddenly, a face appeared in heaven. It was the face of a woman. She looked around twenty and possessed a very lively, but somewhat unintelligent, personage. The woman had glowing skin and a few pimples around her nose. Her features were average and there was not much to say about her except for the fact that she definitely didn't look at all dead. Her head filled up heaven due to its enormous size.
'Well,' thought Neville to himself, 'SHE certainly looks very much alive. How could a living person come to be in heaven?'
' A PERSON! A PERSON! How dare you call god a mere mortal insolent beast!' Neville retorted, angry at his own insolence.
'Oh, I see, this thing in front of me is god. That makes much more sense.'
The heads size bothered Neville a little so, although it was god, Neville tried to look past it and into the calming sea of plain white right behind god. Even though the white was boring it didn't hurt Neville's eyes as much as looking at god did.
"Oh good, The Boy Who Lived is awake everybody! The Chosen One has woken!" god ejaculated loudly with an unexpectedly rich, cockney accent.
Neville agreed with god, in heaven he was awake and alive. He resented the fact that god knew him as The Boy Who Lived but nothing could be done about that. Everyone on earth had eventually known that he was The Chosen One so it fit that god would call him by the same name.
"Oh dear, he's not focusing on anything. Neville, honey, can you hear me?" god asked Neville with a look of great on her face.
"Guh," Neville replied. He had meant to say 'Of course I can hear see you, and hear you, but I would prefer not to look at you since I just died and I'm all out of sorts.
"Hmmm… you're not doing as well as I thought you would, sweetie, oh my dear…" god commented as her eyes filled with tears.
God promptly left heaven and Neville closed his eyes. He didn't like heaven much.