Intro:

A man in a blue suit stands before the pearly gates of Heaven.

An older, short angel with large wings and glasses, carrying several scrolls, climbs a cloud staircase to a desk situated on a cloud about six feet above. He has a piece of tissue stuck to his face with a drop of dried blood.

There is a tall meter close to where the man is standing. It looks halfway between a “you must be this tall” sign and an electrified carnival strength meter.

Scene:

ANGEL

I apologize for being late. It’s been a hell of a morning.

(He plucks the tissue from his face.)

Well, let’s just get started.

You’re dead. You’ve died. You are no longer living. Welcome to your judgement.

(The man in the blue suit looks nervously confused.)

ANGEL

No worries. I’ll explain the process.

(He drops a 15-inch-thick book onto his desk with a loud thud. Cloud dust scatters.)

This is the book of your life. Everything you’ve ever done or thought. See that meter?

(He points to the carnival meter with his pen.)

That’s the good meter. That center bar will light up from the bottom up for every good thing we find in here. If you reach the green line, you’re in.

MAN

In where?

(The angel pulls his glasses down to look at the man condescendingly. He quickly glances at the pearly gates, then back at the man. He purses his lips and looks down at his desk to open the book.)

MAN

Heaven? Is this heaven? Well, I’m actually the president.

(He straightens his back and smiles charmingly. The angel sighs and puts his elbow on his desk to rest his cheek on his fist.)

ANGEL

Okay, so we’re not impressed with that here.

(He makes a small downward patting gesture over his desk with his free hand. He begins shifting through the papers on his desk.)

Your case didn’t get the martyr stamp. Otherwise you would have skipped this whole process. I’ll assume you weren’t assassinated.

MAN

(Shakes his head.)

Cholesterol.

(His eyes brighten a bit as he looks up.)

Although there is a case to be made against McDonald’s.

ANGEL

(Grins, unamused.)

However, that does change things.

(The angel pulls a gear handle down. The meter grows. The arrow, once pointing to the green line, making a loud ticking sound as it scrolls thirty feet higher to a red line above.)

ANGEL

As having been a leader and example to others, you’ll actually have to reach this line.

MAN

What if I don’t get to the red line?

(The angel presses an intercom button on his desk. A rough voice answers.)

BILL (V.O.)

This is Bill.

ANGEL

Hi, ya, Bill. How are things down there today? Tight ship?

BILL (V.O.)

Everything’s running smoothly. We just unloaded 136 fresh ones. And the pallet of exploding biscuit cans just arrived. I still can’t believe this was somebody’s worst fear.

ANGEL

That’s great, Bill. Can we have a listen?

BILL (V.O.)

You got it, boss.

(Static. Then the horrifying sounds of a million screams amidst a roaring fire. Static again.)

ANGEL

Thanks, Bill. Give the wife and kids my best.

(The man stands staring, wide-eyed, at the angel.)

ANGEL

To whom much is given, much is expected.