Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven Is No Place for a Nice Country Boy

A cloud outside the Pearly Gates. A portly, bearded man with a beatific expression stands behind a velvet rope, holding a clipboard. John Denver enters, cloud left.

John Denver: Hi. You must be St. Peter.

Bearded Man: The only Peter around here is Peter Tosh. I’m Jerry.

Denver: Farrr out! Jerry Garcia from the Grateful Dead?

Jerry Garcia: Yep, and let me tell you, that’s a misnomer. Nothing grateful about the dead. They’re always whining and complaining about the accommodations: not enough Perrier, no one removed the green M&Ms;, that kind of thing.

Denver: But what are you doing at the door?

Garcia: We all take turns doing jobs around here. It’s good for the soul. Kind of like cleaning toilets at Betty Ford. Name?

Denver: I’m John Denver.

Garcia: There must be some mistake. This is rock ‘n’ roll heaven.

Denver: I just died in a plane crash. That’s why I’m here.

Garcia: I don’t think so. This is for music legends. You know, guys like Eddie Cochran, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison.

Denver: Elvis?

Garcia: Nah, Elvis is still on Earth. John Lennon’s up here, though. Incidentally, he hates the new Beatles songs. Anyway, you can see why I can’t let you in.

Denver: But I’m a legend, man. I’m still huge in Russia. And I sold millions of records in the ‘70s.

Garcia: So did Karen Carpenter, and she didn’t make it.

Denver: What about Mama Cass?

Garcia: She squeaked by, but they’ve toughened up the entrance requirements since then. All those drug overdoses in the ‘80s--it was getting crowded.

Denver: I did drugs! What about the hidden meaning of “Rocky Mountain High”?

Garcia: Sorry, nice try. But John Belushi in particular requested that we not let you in. And Sid Vicious and Kurt Cobain agreed with him.

Denver: Belushi! He’s not even a musician!

Garcia: He died like one.

Denver: So did I! I told you, I died in a plane crash--just like Jim Croce, Otis Redding, Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper! And Stevie Ray Vaughan and Ricky Nelson!

Garcia: Yeah, but your songs, man. I mean, “Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy?”

Denver: Is it my fault if I want to send a positive, uplifting message to my audience?

Garcia: You could try the country music heaven. They’re a little to the right of us.

Denver: But rock ‘n’ roll is in my blood!

Garcia: Is anything else? I mean, any illegal substances?

Denver: They’re still running tests. But I had two previous DUIs. I spun my Porsche out into a tree.

Garcia: Really? Sounds promising.

Denver: I fooled around on my first wife, I went through two divorces. I had groupies!

Garcia: But you sang a duet with Kermit the Frog on the Grammys.

Denver: I was probably drunk at the time. I’ve always been troubled. That happy face thing was just a front.

Garcia: We-ell. . . .

Denver: After the crash they found a .32-caliber handgun hidden in my car. And four rounds of ammunition.

Garcia: OK, that might do it. I’ll have to check with the Big Guy.

Denver: George Burns? No problem. He and I are tight.

Garcia: No. Pigpen. I like to run everything by him. In the meantime, you can make yourself useful.

He hands Denver his clipboard and starts to leave.

Garcia: And if Selena tries to sneak in again, call me.