“Name?”
“John Ensign.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Oh, dear?”
“You’re not planning on being difficult, are you?”
John Ensign narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Saint Peter pointed to an elevator next to the stairway to heaven, which lay opposite the pearly gates (which, truth be told, were made of simple stone – you know how gospel writers like to embellish). “You need to take that elevator to go to where you need to be. There’s only one button, so there can be no confus -“
“Y – you’re sending me to hell?” Ensign blustered.
“To where you need to be,” Saint Peter politely insisted.
“Do. You. Know. Who. I. Am?”
Saint Peter sighed. “John Ensign,” he replied, reading from an impossibly large book defying gravity on an impossibly rickety wooden lectern. “Republican. In your political life, you opposed just about every measure that would have lessened the suffering of people in your country. In your personal -“
“I’m a member of The Family,” John Ensign self-importantly told the angel.
“Yes,” Saint Peter warily replied, “every man born to woman is part of a family. It -“
“No,” John Ensign interrupted, “not a family. I mean, yes, I have a family. But, I’m talking about The Family.”
“Doug Coe’s outfit.”
“Okay, so, you know what I’m talking about.”
“I had to deal with founder Abraham Vereide,” Saint Peter scowled. “I had to bask in His loving grace for several days to calm down after that ordeal!”
John Ensign clenched his jaw. “So, if you know about The Family, you know that I’ve been doing His work,” he stubbornly insisted.
“Mister Ensign,” Saint Peter calmly, albeit with the slightest edge, stated, “You committed adultery. That’s hardly God’s work. It’s a sin. Written in stone, no less. And, I have no record of you ever repenting the -“
“I had a press conference,” John Ensign pointed out. “I apologized to my constituents and my wife.”
“Okay. Here’s the thing,” Saint Peter, ever so slightly gritting his teeth, stated. “Public apology is a good start, but it does not replace acknowledging sin in your heart and repenting.”
“Oh, I didn’t have to do any of that.”
“You didn’t?”
“I told you: I’m a member of The Family,” Ensign said, adding: “I’m one of the chosen.”
“Even resigning would have shown some sense that you were sorry that you had been doing wrong,” Saint Peter insisted.
“But, I didn’t have to resign.”
“Why not?”
“I told you: I’m a member of The Family,” Ensign said, adding: “I’m one of the chosen.”
Saint Peter paused to choose his next words carefully. “What do you think American democracy is?” he asked.
“It’s the greatest political system the world has ever known.”
“Right. But, what is it?”
“It’s where the people get to elect their rulers.”
“Oh. Go -“
“After they have been chosen by God.”
“And, you’re one of the chosen?”
“This is what I’ve been saying!”
“So…you’re claiming to be Jewish?” Saint Peter asked incredulously.
“No, no, no,” Ensign made little effort to conceal his disgust. “I’m one of the new chosen. You know, after God broke his covenant with the Jewish people.”
“Ah,” Saint Peter sighed. He had started to develop an ever so slight tic in his left eye.
“Have you never heard the story of David?” Ensign belligerently demanded.
“Of course I’ve heard of the story of David!” Saint Peter, able to hold back no longer, exploded. “This is [COPULATORY EXPLETIVE DELETED] heaven! I’m a [BLASPHEMOUS EXPLETIVE DELETED] angel! Not only have I memorized all of the Biblical stories, I have spent millennia pondering their meaning! Who the [MILD EXPLETIVE DELETED] do you think you are?”
“I’m like David. I can do what I want because I’m one of the chosen people,” Ensign stood his ground.
“Why?” Saint Peter shouted. “Because you say you are? Pretty self-serving assertion, don’t you think? Especially if it lets you let your parents pay off your mistress and her husband so you don’t have to feel any political repercussions for your actions – oh, yes, that’s definitely something David would have done!”
“Look -“
Saint Peter held up a finger. “G – give me a second, will you?” he commanded, cocking his head. “Simon? Saint Peter, yeah? Listen, the Chosen People – who are they? Yeah, I know it’s a daft question, but can you please – right. That’s what I thought. Thanks.”
Saint Peter turned his attention back to John Ensign. “Sorry. I was just on the line with the Head of Doctrine and he tells me Jews are still the Chosen People.”
John Ensign looked at him blankly for a moment, then said: “I want to speak to your superior.”
“What, God?”
“Your superior, yes.”
“What do you think this is, a retail outlet? Souls ‘R Us? Because, I’ve got The Good News for you…!”
“Nonetheless.”
Saint Peter slapped himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. He hadn’t done this since he had to go through every page of the Bible – Old Testament and New – to prove to Torquemada that torturing people was never part of God’s plan. Not for the first time, he thought that what the Pearly Gates needed more than anything was a pair of bouncers.
There is no time in Heaven, but it took a couple of days subjective time for Saint Peter to convince John Ensign to take the elevator to Hell. With a sigh, Saint Peter turned back to the big book and said, “Next?”
A man stepped up to the podium and told him: “Mark Sanford.”
Saint Peter took a moment, blinked, took another moment and blinked again. Then, he did something he hadn’t done in over 700 years: Saint Peter shouted: “Break!”