I do not own the rights to MASH, or the characters therein. Dammit…
This piece is dedicated with affection to Larry Linville, who breathed life into Ol' Ferret Face. May Larry get a better reward than the nebbish he created deserves….
…A Sure Ticket To…
Frank lost track of the time he spent waiting in the unearthly long line to settle accounts with St. Peter. As he got closer to St. Peter's desk and the gleaming gates behind it, he saw many a person literally dance into the shining portal, and just as many shriek in total agony as the suddenly drop out of sight. He didn't need much imagination to figure where those poor souls were going.
Frank had more than enough time to reflect on his life: Sure, he had been a total jerk for the longest time, but after his nervous breakdown in Korea, and transfer back to the states, he slowly and surely rebuilt his life. He reconciled with Louise, and actually committed himself to being a better doctor, making a decent enough career in the U.S. Army. He also lost much of the bigotry and pettiness he showed without remorse, especially in his time in Korea. He had some failings, sure, but he was confident that he was bound for whatever was beyond those pearly gates.
Frank was milling over his life for perhaps the millionth time, and didn't hear St. Peter's loud "NEXT, PLEASE" for the first time. Frank squared his shoulders and stepped forward. He had passing thought that St. Peter had a more than vague resemblance to the commanding officer he served under at the MASH unit.
"Burns, Franklin Marion, sir" he said firmly and with confidence. St. Peter peered over his spectacles at him, and gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement. St. Peter bent over his ledger, a picture of concentration. "Hmmmm. I see…yes. Uh huh…indeed." St. Peter at looked at Frank pointedly. "All seems to be in order, son…."
Frank felt a great weight lift off his shoulders. "Thank you, sir!" and he started for the Gates of Heaven.
"HOWEVER…" St. Peter spoke up, causing Frank dead in his tracks. "…There is one minor detail…"
Frank racked his brain, nerves jangling a warning. "…Sir?" Then words, spoken so long ago, were heard loud and clear.
"But Major Burns…there is the Christian Ethic" Father Mulcahy? How long since he heard that voice? Frank thought. Then his own voice rang out. "I know that! I won a white bible at my church, for organ playing! So lay off!"
Frank felt the weight that lifted form him drop back on him. Potter did say that yelling at a priest was a sure ticket to…
Frank couldn't finish that thought, as the ground seemed to disappear under his feet. The shriek that rang in his ears was his own and he plummeted to his fate.
St. Peter shook his head, made a mark in his ledger. "Next…"
From the other side of the gate, man with a careworn face shook his head as he saw Frank drop out of sight. "Told you so." He turned and walked off, to join his wife Mildred for canasta with Harry and his missus.