Ticket Validation

I can't wait to die and meet St. Peter at the gate. He'll look upon my living demography and say, "Welcome, David...eh... 'Double Barrel' Earhart."

St. Peter pulls my file from his records, struggling as it's bulk exceeds the norm as it contains all my write-ups and shame-shames. St. Peter retrieves his bifocals chained to his smoke-blue robe's lapel. "Let's see," he begins. "Oh....Oh my......Oh-UH!?" He turns at me with a voracious expression, "THIS....debauchery....is YOU!?"

"Yes, sir."

He analyzes my morality again, ensuring he wasn't fooled at first. He nods his head, finally understanding my deeds and my conscience are far more twisted than any conjoined angels' wings.

His powerful, yet, unreadable stare makes me feel good. "Welcome," he says as he flicks my name tag to my face. "For whatever reason,....welcome."

St. Peter has felt that sinking pit in his stomach before. He understands, once I'm allowed into Heaven, all Hell is going to break loose.