Chapter 76, Man, sounds like Mohammed rattled this one off in a state of post-coital bliss. He just can't work up any passion this time around. It's more ho hum heaven: bling, slaves, laying around on couches eating and drinking—BORRRING—and whatdyaknow, he hardly mentions Hell.
Here's what's shakin' in heaven. You lay on raised thrones,(13) in a shady garden, with bunches of fruit (14); wearing green silk with heavy brocade, and silver bracelets (21), while youths of perpetual freshness serve you (19) wine with ginger (17) or camphor, from a fountain (5), in goblets of crystal, made of silver* (16). Sounds like Carnival cruise lines.
*If they're made of silver, how are they not goblets of silver? I know he's god and all but still, this seems like a stretch.
His Noodly Goodness and crew will be getting down, this way:
You carouse riotously in a stripper factory, with a merry band of lusty companions dressed in full pirate regalia of your own design, freely imbibing grog from a beer volcano, with abundant pasta to fill yer belly, as you sail the Seven Seas in yer own ship, living the eternal Arrrrgh!!!!