The Afterlife Bar

In the dimly lit afterlife bar, the air thick with tales of rock 'n' roll, Shane MacGowan nurses a whiskey, his raspy voice cutting through the chatter. Lemmy, whiskey in hand, nods in acknowledgment.

Shane: "Lemmy, me old mate, never thought we'd end up in the same pub after all those gigs."

Lemmy: "Life's a wild ride, Shane but. It has to end sometime, you know?"

They clink glasses, the echoes of their legendary tunes lingering in the otherworldly air.

In the corner of the bar, a slimmer Elvis sits at the piano, fingers effortlessly dancing over the keys. Shane and Lemmy exchange glances, recognizing the King.

Shane: "Elvis, me boy, never thought I'd see you tinklin' the ivories here."

Elvis, flashing a charming grin, replies, "Well, lads, it's a different kind of stage, but the music never dies."

The trio shares a moment, the afterlife bar pulsating with the timeless rhythm of their collective legacies.

The door from the gents swings open, Bowie emerges, impeccably made up, a celestial glow surrounding him. Shane, Lemmy, and Elvis turn, their eyes catching the starman's entrance.

Bowie: "Even in the afterlife, a gentleman must keep his makeup flawless. Wouldn't you agree?"

Shane chuckles, Lemmy nods in approval, and Elvis tips his hat. The eclectic quartet, each an icon in their own right, shares a nod of camaraderie as the afterlife's cosmic jukebox plays on.

Suddenly the door opens......