If I ever get to the Promised Land, I’m going to cozy up to God and ask him if he’ll chill with the harp music for a spell and instead pipe in the sounds of the anguished screams emanating from the fiery bowels of Hell. I think I’d enjoy that and can’t imagine he wouldn’t get a chuckle out of it as well.
“That’ll teach ‘em not to praise you, huh, buddy?” I’ll utter with a wicked, sycophant cackle.
BILL
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