They were politely nailing my right hand to the wood as I casually glanced over my left shoulder. To my apparent surprise, Mr. Bee was on the cross next to me having his left hand nailed.
"Hello!" I shouted.
He turned his head.
"Hellow!" He smiled warmly.
"What are you doing here, may I ask?" said I.
He considered this a moment before replying.
"It's a funny story, actually," he said. "I was minding my own business—you know, the flower shop—when all of a sudden a large scantily dressed man offered me a ride on a crucifix. He was so kind about it all that I felt obliged to accept. And here I am. What about you?"
"Me?" I was forced to recall. "Well, I came of my own accord. I saw this gorgeous little poster in town and thought it'd be a good idea. You know how it is."
"Yes," he nodded. I nodded back.
"Um," I murmured reflectively, "do you know what happens after this?"
"Not sure," replied Mr. Bee. "The afterlife, I guess."
"Ah yes, that old thing. What do you suppose it'll be like?"
"Quite nice, I should imagine."
We nodded again.

After a while, a nice young lady approached and offered to be my carrier.
"That would be splendid!" I said.
And so off we went into the scorching landscape of rolling dunes. I was pleased to note, twenty minutes into our journey, that my good friend Mr. Bee had also acquired a carrier and had nearly caught up to me.
"Hellow!" he called from the rear.
"Good day, Mr. Bee!" I called back.
As he bobbed up beside me, I noticed that his carrier was a noble Prince in royal garb.

Soon, however, we drifted apart; all that was left of him was a distant silhouette on the horizon. I turned my attention towards my own criminally underdeveloped carrier.
"Favourite books?" I asked.
"Off the top of my head," she began after a pause for thought, "I'd say The Crimson Cutie, Stephan The Gambler, Betweenways, The Tale Of Dr. Livingsworth, The Amazing Mr. Brimage and perhaps Ben's Delicious Roast. Oh yes, and Organs."
"Will you marry me?" I asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Will you marry me?" I repeated.
"Yes, that would be nice."
"So that's a No?"
"No, that's a Yes."
"Really? Terrific."

By the time I saw Mr. Bee again, I was already happily married and wearing a sharp dinner suit. It was at a gathering near a mirage of an oasis and I spotted my old chum taking a drink from one of the springs.
"Is this the end?" asked Mr. Bee when he saw me approach.
"Not yet," I answered truthfully. "There's still a few lines to go."
"Oh," he said glumly. "How about now?"
"Now there's only two."
"The end?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Hey!" shouted Tom Bowler. "That was more then a few."
"A few is anywhere from three to six," I explained.
"No, a few is three."
"But only roughly. Four is still a few."
"Four? More like nine."
I decided not to answer so as the thing could end itself.
"What about my childhood?" said my wife.
"Huh?" I really had no idea what she was talking about.
"What about my opinions?" she continued.
"I don't know," I said defensively.
"What about my name?"
"What about it?" I asked.
"What is it?"

Hugh and the Times