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They aren't supposed to allow suicides past the front gate, so I knew I'd have to lie my ass off. Luckily, the security guards are exceptionally naive here.
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| My name is... um... Ossie Davis. | |
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| Right this way, Mr. Davis. We've been expecting you. | |
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I normally wouldn't be caught dead in a cultist's den like this, but the delectable irony of strolling into the one place they always claimed I couldn't reach was worth shooting up a little lead.
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| RIGHTEOUSNESS! PURITY! ABSTINENCE! PRAIZE THA LAWD! | |
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| No one'll mind if I indulge myself just a little bit. | |
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Heaven: Glorious city of God, or a massive interstellar cesspool expanding ad naseum through the endothermic consumption of used souls of depraved self-deluded pricks who made mortal life unbearable?
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| Richard Nixon? How the holy fuck did you get in here? | |
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| My sins were all pardoned , remember? | |
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