St. Peter woke up with all the commotion at the Pearly Gates, boots marching and swords clanging.
Seems a number of Roman centurions were marching up to the gates.
Considering St. Peter hadn’t seen this sight in about 2000 years, he immediately grabbed his ear and slammed the gates shut and applied the electronic lock, which latched with a metallic thud.
Safe, thought St. Peter.
A no-nonsense centurion approached the gates. “We’ve got one of your own.”
Out of the flank of centurion soldiers appeared Ed Gilligan, President, American Express, recently deceased.
St. Peter was surprised; he checked his iPad. “You’re a bit early, Mr. Gilligan.”
“Have you got room, early check-in?” asked Gilligan.
St. Peter tapped at his iPad a few more times. “There was the matter of the financial meltdown, in 2008…you reduced the open-to-buy for many good customers. It ruined some of them.”
Gilligan hung his head. We were scared.
St. Peter exhaled: “Weren’t we all, at one time or another.”
“I really am sorry,” said Gilligan.
“Hold on,” said St. Peter. He ran a special logarithm and his face brightened. “You’re in luck, Saint Gilligan.” Your private life balanced out enough where we don’t have to send you and The Card to the heat.”
The new Saint Gilligan sighed in relief. “What do I do?”
“You can start by leaving that by the gate. There’s a recycling bin. Saint Gilligan took his American Express plum card out and tossed it in the bin.
The centurions turned about-face and marched off into the clouds.
St. Peter opened the Pearly Gates and newly-minted Saint Gilligan strode through.
“Have a good stay,” called St. Peter. “See, you can leave home without it.”