The last cheer-leader with her long thighs in silken stockings, in red miniskirt and white boots, burst like a balloon, too. There were exactly twelve of them. And they all looked so realistic… and so desirable, too. St. Peter made a deep sigh at experiencing the new failure, frowned with his white brows resentfully and accusingly and looked with his pungent and blue eyes at the designer, at the great heavenly magician Albert Einstein. Since the Second Advent of Christ time has been passing by with cheerless monotony and they had to enjoy themselves somehow in the heavenly Jerusalem. It was not particularly comforting either if the Redeemer himself appeared on the scene because in such cases He tenderly but categorically hauled Peter over the coals asking him why he was juggling there all the time, he’d better alit on the Earth that was made climatically and demographically livable, a new earthly Paradise actually, and do some useful work there. He added that Peter would have it that if he started working, for instance cultivated a beautiful little garden, cut roses, or returned to his original job, which was fishing, he would not need the sight of those cheer-leaders made of the wandering atoms of very sparse ether, of light— and quantum-particles and existing just for a couple of seconds.
