When death finally comes,
To Saint Peter I will tell,
Casey Freeman reporting for duty,
I've served my time in hell.

KC staring at a skullSo I finally died. It was pretty spectacular. Lots of people cried. The entire states of North and South Dakota held parades. My mom was really sad, but granted me my final wish by feeding what was left of my physical body to polar bears (you know, for the circle of life).

Enough about that. Here's what happened when I finally arrived at the Pearly Gates…

Scene: KC waits in line at Heaven. There are a bunch of angels flying around with personnel files, clouds, and stuff like that. Saint Peter calls KC's name.

PETER: Casey Joseph Freeman?

KC: That's me.

PETER: So you think you deserve to get into Paradise?

KC: Sure thing. That's why I'm here, right?

PETER: You really think so?

KC: Well duh. Why else would I be here? You wouldn't really make me wait in this line if you were going to turn me down. Plus, I was baptized, confirmed, and even anointed by the Catholic Church.

PETER: Holy fucking shit. I'm so sick of you stupid Irish Catholic pricks thinking just because you're here, it means you get in. I'm checking your records, and I'm sorry to say, you've got to go through a few tests.

KC: Um, does it count that I picked your name as my confirmation name? That's pretty honorable, right?

PETER: Big deal, shitbird. Lots of people do that.

KC: I also know you were considered the first Pope.

PETER: So you paid attention to one Sunday school class. Do you know the Ten Commandments?

KC: Well duh. Charlton Heston busted the shit out of those Egyptian pricks.

KC hugging the toilet vomitingPETER: Hmm. Next question. Judas Priest! In your record it looks like you've had quite the drinking career.

KC: Mama Freeman said to do what I do best.

PETER: She never ever said that. She told you to stop.

KC: Yeah, but what does she know?

PETER: A lot. So, you've almost been here—and by here I mean you've almost died a handful of times. Most of them because of booze. Let's see, at 16 you decided you thought being a hobo would be cool, so you drank a bunch of Mountain Dew and vodka jumped a train. You slipped and were nearly chopped in half.

KC: My backpack was really heavy.

PETER: And then at twenty you almost died in a drinking and driving accident.

KC: Now come on. I wasn't even driving.

PETER: But you told your friend to speed as fast as possible and tried lighting the hood of the car on fire.

KC: I didn't realize the fruit of jungle juice was so potent. I thought that was a myth.

PETER: Some dude roofied you and you almost fell onto the tracks of an NYC subway?

KC: Not even close to my fault.

KC laying in a hospital bedPETER: Then we really thought we had you when you crushed your spine in that retarded diving accident.

KC: I wasn't even that drunk. It was dark. I swam all through high school, university, and grad school. There were chicks involved. How the fuck was I supposed to know it was shallow?

PETER: Finally, you bit the dust when somebody dared you to swallow an exposed extension cord.

KC: Yeah, not my finest hour.

PETER: But that wasn't even what killed you. The electricity from the cord sparked the Everclear and, it says here, four .45 caliber bullets that were in your stomach?

KC: I was trying to do some research for this super-spy novel.

PETER: So you ate bullets?

KC: The bucket of Everclear I drank should explain that. Man, did I fucking explode or what? That's exactly how I wanted to go.

PETER: The Holy Father gave you a life, and this is how you treat it? By blowing yourself up on a dare?

KC: I wanted my life and death to be exciting. Nowhere in the Bible does it say, "Go forth and become a banker and live a very mundane existence."

KC being lynched in his roomPETER: This is going nowhere. You have absolutely no remorse for the things you've done.

KC: I'm an entertainer.

PETER: No. You're a pompous fucking prick who takes no responsibility for your actions.

KC: Hey. Nobody got hurt except for me. And my fans, friends, and family. Because they probably miss me.

PETER: Actually, you were the dumbass they enjoyed having around because that meant none of your friends were the biggest idiot in the room. So usually I ask if you've done anything to help or hurt others, but since we won't agree on anything, I'm changing the rules for you.

KC: Sweet. Rules are for losers.

PETER: We're going to play a game.

KC: Awesome. I like games.

PETER: And you're familiar with this one. It's called Never Have I Ever.

KC: Oh fuck.

PETER: You're going to drink every time you've done something. And I'll know if your bitchass is lying. After I'm done with the questions, you'll need to pass a sobriety test. Since you seem fond of Jameson, you do one shot for every thing you've done.

KC: Double fuck.

PETER: Never have I ever lied.

(KC drinks)

PETER: Never have I ever cheated on my girlfriend.

KC: No fair. That was one time. And I felt really guilty about it. And I swore I'd never do it again and I never did.

PETER: Fine. Never have I ever pumped a girl and never called her again. (KC drinks) Never have I ever fucked a girl on my roommate's bed. (KC drinks) Never have I ever used the movie Monster Squad as a segue into first-time coitus with a new girl. (KC drinks) Come on, three drinks for all three times you tried that slick move.

KC: Oh come on. (KC drinks twice)

PETER: Never have I ever thrown up, tossed a piece of Big Red in my mouth, and then made out with a female that wasn't my wife.

KC: Seriously. This isn't fair. (KC drinks)

PETER: You can always give up and go downstairs…. Never have I ever fingerbanged some chick at a Denny's.

KC: That was a once in a lifetime experience. I think the record should show that I didn't have intercourse with her. Because any girl that picks up dudes at Denny's is filthy as fuck.

PETER: Did you or didn't you stuff those potato-picking digits up a girl's uterus in an all-night Denny's? (KC drinks)

KC: Oh yeah? Never have I ever betrayed my best friend and Lord Savior Jesus Christ before the cock crowed three times? Drink to that, you pious bastard.

(Peter drinks)

PETER: The funny thing is, I'm already in Heaven.

KC: Yeah. As a fucking bouncer. I don't see Saint Patrick waiting tables or Saint Mother Teresa washing dishes. You're the only dick with a job up here. You're the kind of asshole who brings his work laptop on vacation. And sends emails and shit. Some right hand man you are. You're doing Jesus' bitch work.

PETER: Oh, there's the drunken demon tongue you're known for.

KC in a Punisher sweatshirtKC: Come on, fucktard. What else you got for me? Want to make fun of how I didn't make out with a girl until I was 18? Or do you want to punish me for laughing at every female orgasm face I've ever seen? Why don't you dig into a little more history?

PETER: Never have I ever cried during sex.

KC: I'm not drinking for that.

PETER: But you did it.

KC: Fuck you. That's a loaded question. We were watching Forrest Gump as she blew me. I always cry when Bubba dies.

PETER: I'll give you that. Never have I ever shouted Kirby Puckett's name during a Tarzan-like orgasm yell.

(KC drinks)

KC: Fuck me. I was putting together my all-time fantasy baseball team. And come on, Kirby rules. Speaking of, do I get to meet him?

PETER: Your fantasy baseball team is basically the 1991 Minnesota Twins.

KC: Well duh. They're only the greatest sports team ever.

PETER: So nine drinks. Now for the physical challenge is. Can you walk a straight line?

KC: Am I supposed to drink because I can?

PETER: Just walk the line you fucking lush.

KC: Wow, it's kind of hard on these clouds. How far should I go?

PETER: Just walk to the edge and jump off. You're not getting in.

KC: Seriously? I'm supposed to go to Hell because of a few acts of sexual deviancy?

PETER: No. There's actually nothing in the Rules that says anything about not going to Heaven because of banging chicks. You just quit going to church. If you kept the Sabbath Day holy, you'd be one of our top guys. I just wanted to see how badly you'd embarrass yourself.

KC: Shit. All because I skipped church. Well fuck. Thanks for the whiskey, I guess.

PETER: Say hi to Elvis for me.

KC: Oh sickhouse. I get to hang with Elvis?

PETER: Yeah. Elvis Costello. He does all the music down there.

KC: Damn. That really sucks. Can you just fudge it and make it so I never even existed?

PETER: And erase all your amazing accomplishments?

KC: Now you're just being a dick.