You've spent your whole life a fuck-up, why stop now? Improvise a new ticket.

You pick up both tickets, titty blue in your left hand and waistband red in your right, knowing full well that you're supposed to pick just one. There are all kinds of stupid in the universe, but yours is the kind that works extra hard. You take Kristi's seat at the desk, and rifle through the drawers until you find the tools you need.

Using the scissors you found, since even a slob like you takes this whole Blowjob Universe thing seriously enough to be deliberate about defacing heavenly property, you slice the tickets down their middles. A small piece of clear tape allows you to attach one to the other, forming a new 'Hearthven' ticket. That's not what it says, though. It actually says И3VARTH with half the letters backwards because you're a dipshit, but it's still your heaven. You shove it into the slot on the wall, and the office door swings creakily open, revealing a passage so brightly lit, you cannot see anything beyond the entry. Beautiful beams of light ripple from the space like a rainbow whose only colors are joy and delight, accompanied by the soft but strong chanting of a choir of angelic voices echoing through the welcome office like a pure-hearted compliment on an auspicious day, warming the hearts of everything it touches.

You imagine the choir, who are all probably hotties with big titties, their mouths wide open in song, waiting for your dick. Maybe they have wings.

You prod Kristi with your foot, but she doesn't stir. As inviting as this door seems, you are hesitant to trade the guaranteed cumdump you have here for the uncertainty of .... NEVARTH.

It's okay, you have an idea. You grab Kristi by her torn up flight attendant suit, and drag her to the edge of the doorway. With a gentle push from the sole of your foot, she rolls through the door, into the shining majesty of Nevarth, whatever the fuck that is.

You hold for a moment, standing uncertain on the brink of a new universe, one created by your own hand merged with the divine. It's a momentous... moment...and anyone would be hesitant, afraid of the unknown implications of such a creation. You've actually stopped just because your balls need a quick scratch, but to an onlooker, it might seem like you were lost in existential contemplation. You adjust your nasty sweatpants and step through.

As the glorious beauty envelops you and pulls your flabby body through the brilliant ether, a young lady walks into the empty office behind you from the front door. She sees the door you just left open swinging slowly shut on its own, a thin sliver of divine rainblow narrowing more each moment as it plays across the desk and the harmonies of angel hotties bounce quietly and finally off the drably painted walls. The blonde smiles knowingly at the door, happy for whoever just crossed the threshold, never stopping to wonder what might have happened to the girl from the shift before hers. She is too busy replacing the scissors and tape in their drawers to notice when, just before the door clicks shut, the light flickers briefly, with a splash of ultraviolet, and the angel song skips like a, like-er-ike a record with dirt in its grooves.