Saint Peter looked down his long, Jewish nose at Jeremiah.

"How many times did he say yes?"

Jeremiah flipped furriously through his large red book, searching for the datum. He found it after a short while, and quoted off the number, dutifully.

"56,811,012"

Peter sighed, obviously bored with his work. Stanley Melish stood quietly and patiently in front of Saint Peter. He tried not to fidget. Saint Peter spoke again, addressing Jeremiah a for second time.

"How many no's?"

Jeremiah flipped backwards through the book, trying to locate the number. He found it and read it, authoritatively.

"27,363,001."

Jeremiah smiled slightly after that last bit of reading. He liked the oratory bits. Saint Peter heaved another sigh and made a check mark in his thick, pigskin book. He made a slight flourish at the end of the check mark, waggling the lengthy purple quill God had given him some 2000 years ago. He had not had a single day off since then. Again, Peter looked down his hooked nose, this time at Stanley Melish.

"Welcome to heaven Mr. Melish." The aged saint flashed grin at Stanley. Stanley secretly thought that the smile looked a lot like that of the used car salesman that had sold him a Gremlin 20 years prior.
Peter rotated his book around on it's dias, then pointed out an empty spot at the bottom next to an X. "Please sign here." Stanley tentatively reached for Peter's quill, but rescinded his motion when jeramiah thrust a pencil into his hand.

Stanley, a dutiful Lawyer in life, had a lot of questions. None so imediate as:

"How binding is this?"

Peter flashed his trademark smile again, then returned to his book.

That didn't exactly answer Stanley's question, but he no longer had any desire to ask another. He signed his name limply, and then looked up at the aged Jewish saint. Peter waved a hand without looking up, and the large circular motorized door behind him opened quickly. Jeremiah lead Stanley through it. As the door shut behind him, Stanley heard a yiddish and aged voice behind him asking a seemingly ancient question.

"How many yes's?"





On the other side of the door was a near infinite white tunnel of light. Stanley looked at Jeremiah, quizitively. Jeremiah oblidged Stanley's caution by entering the tunnel first, then motioned for Stanley to follow. Stanley did.

They walked for a time in silence. Stanley felt as if many minutes were passing. Eventually, he could no longer keep the silence.
"So that's all that it comes down to? How many times I said yes?"

Jeremiah grinned at Stanley. A slight spring entered his step. He returned his gaze to the light ahead and continued to grin.

"Yep. Been that way for about 1000 years now. Seems to be the only reliable way we've found to judge humans."

Stanley mulled this for a moment, then continued. "What other ways have you tried?"

"Well, for a while it was done by height, but then the tape measure broke during one of the crusades and all hell broke loose."

Stanley stopped walking. "Height?"

Jeremiah turned and crossed his arms, obviously amused. It was becoming quite clear that this was his favorite part of the job.

"Well, yeah. Before that, it was done by circumfrence of the wrist divided by fingernail length. If the number was on the graph between the cosine of the time of death and the sine of the weight at your last meal, the soul went to heaven. If not, it went to hell." Jeremiah began walking again, finalizing his statement.

Stanley hurried to catch up now, his jaw still slack. "What about limbo? Purgatory?"

Jeremiah chuckled, now. "Bloody Catholics. They'll believe anything. Floating in a formless void for all eternity? Where would all the ducks go?"

"There are animals in heaven?"

"Well, just ducks. God's most perfect creation, evidently."

Again Stanley stopped. "Ducks?!"

Jeremiah, too stopped, and paused for dramatic effect. "Listen mate: Ducks can walk. Ducks can swim. Ducks can fly. Ducks are the shit!" He punctuated this statement by with a pelvic thrust.

Then Jeremiah cleared his throat and began walking again.
Stanley followed closely. "What about geese?"

"Geese are a bastardized attempt to out-do God's ultimate creation. Satan made them. That's why they're so mean."

Stanley said nothing in response to this. He continued to follow Jeremiah in silence until they reached a large pearl encrusted gate that eminated a pure white light. Stanley's eyes lit up. "Now this is more like it! This is what I expected!"

Jeremiah knocked on the door three times, then stepped back and cleared his throat. Nothing happened.
Jeremiah stepped forward and knocked on the door three more times, this time saying "Stanley Melish, welcome to Heaven!"
Nothing happened.

Jeremiah motioned for Stanley to stay put. He ran around to the other side of the door and began cursing softly. After a few loud crashes and a soft tinkling that sounded like the shattering of a small lightbulb, Jeremiah returned to the front of the door with Stanley. A whirring of gears and pullies could be herd coming from the other side of the door.



Suddenly, a steam whistle blew, and the gates jerked open slightly. They slowly creaked outward with a satisfying "ahhhhhhhhhh." It seemed that there was a chorus in heaven, all awaiting Stanley's attendence.

Jeremiah slapped Stanley on the back, jovially, then sent him on his way through the pure white opening.

Stanley smiled widely and stepped through the opening. The world around him; indeed, the heaven around him flashed into a blindingly bright light. Stanley closed his eyes, leaned his head back and bathed in the warmth of it. He felt the very presence of God upon his brow.

Then the warmth vanished. There was a loud grinding noise, like the sound of engine-breaks on a semi truck. An acrid odor wafted into Stanley's nostrils. He slowly leaned his head forward and began to open his eyes.

And Stanley found himself on a street corner in New Brunswick.