It’s Raining Men.

Sometimes, it all works out in the end.

Mindy Stern
5 min readSep 24


Frank Wagner for iStock

Jenny Mulaney was many things — kind, smart, generous — athletic was not one of them. She preferred a sedentary life, a sit-on-the-couch, drink cheap red wine, eat cheesy pizza life. She had no Olympic aspirations, no Tour De France fantasies. Accountant by day, Netflix-and-chill by night, Jenny was happiest alone.

So you can imagine her surprise when she arrived at the pearly gates and God — who looked NOTHING like Jenny imagined and way more like Issa Rae — welcomed her with a wide, toothy grin and told her to get in line with the athletes.

“Athletes?” Jenny asked, aghast.

“You’re fine,” God reassured.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be here. Well, not happy. But according to my mother, I’ve been dead for ages. You know, ‘All you do is work. When are you getting married? It’s like you’re dead’ blah blah blah. It’s just, I’m no athlete.”

“Trust me.”

Jenny forced a smile — who was she to question God — and headed to the line. Athlete? It’s not like heaven changed her body. Middle still doughy, calves still soft, upper arms jiggly like cold chicken cutlets. And her silk pajamas — pink pants, long sleeved top covered in black poodles and polka dots— hardly competitor’s garb.

She stood behind a tall man in cycling shorts with sculpted arms like Adonis. He smiled and said “Alo” with an accent Jenny couldn’t place. Ahead of him stood a petite muscled woman in gymnastics attire. The rest of the line disappeared into the mist.

They didn’t inch forward at all. Jenny had no phone, no watch, no clock on the wall, no idea how long she’d been standing on that fluffy white cloud going nowhere.

She closed her eyes, remembered the hospital. The windowsill lined with “Get Well” greeting cards and floral bouquets. Cold red Jell-O. Her mother holding her hand, singing “It’s Raining Men, Hallelujah, It’s Raining Men,” as the nurse disconnected the breathing tube from Jenny’s chest.

Sigh. Her mother’s last wish for her dying daughter was a heaven dripping with dudes. Jenny loved her mother more than anyone in the world but it felt kind of nice…



Mindy Stern

Screenwriter. Essayist. Wannabe Novelist. Adoptee. www.themindystern.com