My former college roommate, Ian, claims he spent the last three months drinking beer and watching football with God. The good news is that, if Ian is to be believed, there's beer and football in heaven. The bad news is, he's not to be believed. And I intend to prove it. Now he's brought his old college friends together to pitch the book he's written about the experience. It's a trite book, in my opinion, with only one new revelation: in the ensuing years God has become cranky. No one would even consider his claims if he hadn't handed us the book a week after he died. But I don't buy it. I believe he faked his death and that he is and always had been a fraud and a liar. He's the last person God would choose to confide in. He's already taken away the best part of my life: I intend to stop him before he destroys any more lives.