Everyone behind him was shifting back and forth on their feet, impatiently casting angry glances in his direction. The list, near as he could tell, didn’t seem to be anywhere near finished.

“…..and on June 27th, 1989 you stole your brother Timothy’s Snake-Eyes figure. You buried the figure out in the woods, blaming it on your younger brother. And on June 28th, 1989 when you were asked about it by your Father you dishonored him by lying. And on..”

And on and on it went. The sense of time is a little distorted here, but it had to have been going on for way too long. It was up to 1989, so that puts him with twenty more years to go. Awesome, he thought.

“Look,” he said, with blatant frustration, “can’t we just skip the summary? I mean, you and I- and all these people behind me- can see where this is going right? Just skip it, brother. Open up the trap door or whatever and get on with it.”

“…And on July 4th, 1989 you did place explosives into Mrs. Greeley’s cat’s rectum. And..”
St. Peter continued. . .