Writing Prompt 3: Fred Phelps has died. The Afterlife turns out to be a little different to what he imagined.

What follows is me being satirical:

Fred stared.

Slowly, he closed his eyes. He counted to ten. He opened them again.

Nope. No harps, no halos, no hosannas. 

Quite a lot of pumping techno.

"Oh sweetie," said Saint Peter with a small smile, "it's all in the Bible. God surrounds Himself with beautiful and largely naked male or androgynous figures, He sends His one son- who also surrounds himself with exclusively male company but who has a lot of sympathy for the plight of women- to spread the word that the only way into His house is to love, and the sign of His covenant with mankind is a Rainbow. Seriously, honey, you can't say you weren't informed up front."

Fred stared. His jaw began to wobble. Saint Peter slid his arm around the poor man's shoulders.

"I know," he said "but you'll get used to it. After all, this is your eternal reward."

Just so we're clear, here, my Christian friends remind me all the time that Christ teaches us to love and care for one another as we would want to be loved and cared for.  So, you know, we should all be nice to each other.