Holiness, you say? Holiness is now on the banned list. They stopped me at the border of purgatory and turned out my pockets — said I was shining too much.

Rosary beads? The beads rolled across the confessional floor like knocked-out teeth — rang out beautifully, dramatically, but uselessly. Angels skulk around in rags, sniffing out my soul. There’s a warrant out. The charge — “hope and faith exceeding the quota.”

By the way, thanks for tossing in those sacrifices. But not enough. Even hell’s bored. Prayers? You’re hilarious. If you find yours — drag ’em back. They’re selling ’em as souvenirs at hell’s entrance now. Discounted, by the way.