“Deceit. Petty Theft. Cursing. Coveting your neighbor’s wife. Murder. Excessive Pride. You managed quite a tally.”

The man laughed conspiratorially. “Yes, I was quite the sinner in my day.”

Peter took off his glasses and stared down at the man. “And it seems you show little remorse.”

“Well, I figure remorse is for the Europeans, or people from developing countries.”

The lawn, fashioned by Satan in a controversial subcontracting arrangement, quickly became known as the infernal grasses. Michael hated that grass. It grew in all manner of wicked ways. It was nothing more than a hateful weed that choked all happiness and serenity out of Heaven. It smothered angels and tripped up the righteous souls of the newly dead.

“You realize who I am, right?”

“Yes sir, but rules are rules. We must follow the procedures.” God scrutinized the angel Zadkeil and lamented ever abdicating total control of heaven.

Another angel, God did not bother to recall her name, began a roll call of his offenses, beginning with the usual complaints, like unanswered prayers and genocide.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Seriously. It’s the best place ever.”

“So much better than I imagined. Like your imagination is rendered completely inadequate by the fact there’s no way to even conceive total and complete awesomeness.”

“The omniscience is a nice touch. Really puts the whole thing over the top.”

“Only one thing bothers me.”

“What’s that?”

“Why did we have to be alive at all? Why not just start off in heaven and stay here the whole time? Because not being in heaven really sucks.”