THE COSMIC JOKE

by Bipolar Millennial

When scientists discovered what happens when you die, the world changed. You laugh, euphorically, forever. The cause of the phenomenon is still a mystery, but colloquially, the laughing is considered to be the result of hearing the so-called Cosmic Joke. A joke so funny that it provides laughter that lasts the entirety of the afterlife.

I got a call from the doctor a few days ago. My dad got the joke at age eighty-seven. We always used to joke together, sharing funny ideas about what might happen when you die. Now he knows for sure. “His laughs are coming through loud and clear,” said the doctor. “Sounds like he’s really enjoying the joke.”

Today, I’m at his funeral. Funerals these days are a bit like cocktail parties. The Cosmic Joke and the invention of the metaphone changed everything. Fear of death no longer pervades the human experience.

My uncle catches my eye and stumbles over to me. He spills vodka tonic on his jacket as he goes. “Ges wat hap’ns when ya’ die? Ges wat th’ Cosmic Joke is?” he asks with an ugly grin. He pauses for effect. “Ye come back te life as yer own shit!” He wheezes with laughter. After wiping his eyes, he takes a generous sip of his vodka tonic and straightens up. “Sad to see ‘im go, a’course,” he says, patting me on the back with a stiff hand. “But he’s in bett’r place now. Just lis’n to ‘im,” motioning to the metaphone. “From th’ sound of it, he thinks the joke’s hilarious!”

“I wonder what the actual joke is,” I say. “What actually happens when you die. What could possibly be so funny.”

“So d’we all.”

I leave to go to the bar across the room.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.

“Just water, thanks.”

He begins filling a glass. “Hey, you’re the son, aren’t you?”

I nod.

“Congratulations on your father getting the joke.”

“Thanks.”

“He’s in a better place now.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna know what happens when you die?” the bartender asks with a smile.

“Do you give me my water?” I ask jokingly. He grins.

“Don’t wanna hear my version of the Cosmic Joke? It’s your father’s funeral and you’re his son. Everyone’s going to be telling you their own version.”

“I’ve heard so many already tonight.”

“Look, I’m holding your water hostage. No joke, no water.”

“Alright, fine. Let’s hear your version.”

He tells me his version of the joke. I force a laugh. “That’s pretty good,” I say.

“Thanks for hearing the joke, here’s your water.”

As I sip my water, I listen to my dad’s sonorous laugh reverberate throughout the ballroom. The metaphone broadcasts the deceased’s laugh in real time. Mixed with my father’s laughter is the chatter and chuckling of the guests, each enthusiastically sharing his or her favorite version of what they think the Cosmic Joke might be. My family is gathered around the metaphone, smiling and giggling, taking comfort in hearing my dad’s infectious laughter from beyond the grave.

Hearing him laugh reminds me of the past. We used to laugh a lot together. He would say “I bet in the end, the Cosmic Joke is actually a dad joke.” He taught me to never be afraid of death. That life is just one long setup for an almighty joke that you can finally appreciate when you die. We would lie awake at night and make up our own variations of the joke. When I was five, he would tell me that my stuffed animals would be with me in the afterlife, and that they will snuggle up to me so warmly that I wouldn’t help but giggle. Later, when I was old enough, he would share with me the raunchy versions of the joke that his father had shared with him, but only on the condition that I never tell Mom.

Before he died, he left me a note for me to read posthumously.

Dear Son,

I got the joke! You literally have no idea how funny it is. I’m rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off, tears streaming down my face. Some day you’ll get the joke too and we’ll share one last laugh together.

I love you,

Dad



Years go by. I read his letter every now and then when I miss him. Sometimes I’ll go out at night and just listen to him laugh. I’m glad he’s laughing. Rarely, there are an unfortunate few who don’t laugh in the afterlife. Often Buddhists. But my dad thankfully got the joke. Even after all these years, he’s still laughing. What joke could possibly be so funny?



With each passing year, I grow more excited. I tingle with anticipation, knowing that I’m one year older. One year closer to hearing the joke. Before I know it, my time has come, and I’m in the hospital, old and weak. I tell my son “I’m off to share a last laugh with my father. And someday, you and I will share a laugh of our own.” Then I drift further and further away from consciousness, towards nothingness. Then finally, after a long life, total black.



I find myself naked in a room no larger than a closet. It has no windows and no doors. My sense of time has completely evaporated. There are no feelings for before or after. There is only now. There is only this room.



A lever is mounted on the wall in front of me. A sign above it reads “Pull this lever to get the joke.” I grasp the handle, knowing that my entire life, had been building towards this moment. The purpose of my entire life just a setup for this final punchline. The Cosmic Joke. I pull the lever.



A shower of icy water rains down on me, colder than anything I have ever felt. I shudder. Nothing has ever felt more uncomfortable. The water streams invasively over my naked body. Hands shaking, I grasp the lever and I thrust it back up. Nothing happens. I yank the lever back, two, three, ten times. Please stop, please stop, please stop. I crouch down, hands over my head, shivering. Please stop. I begin to cry. My sobs echo in the room as a chuckle. I cry harder. The chuckle turns to an enthusiastic laugh. I scream, guttural, shrill, absolute agony. Around me, the ear splitting shriek of my own euphoric laughter.

Once you get the joke, you never stop laughing.

©2016