When the Revered Jerry Barnes passed away last Thursday, he began his ascent to heaven leaving behind a loving wife of 51 years, two children, five grand-children, and a devoted congregation he’d served faithfully for over four decades.

Oh, and the quivering, naked altar boy he’d been violating when he died.

“God’s not gonna like this,” Jerry says nervously, looking back over his shoulder as the earth slowly disappears beneath his feet.

As a Protestant, Jerry and his ilk had largely escaped the scorn and shame that has recently befallen his Catholic brethren. After all, Protestants are free to marry and raise families. His disgusting urge to piddle altar boys should have been sublimated through his regular, permitted sexual release, right?

Jerry shakes his head and stares nervously down at his still aroused “staff of Moses.” “Lots of us Protestants were into it,” he says. “I don’t know, after so many years of being Mr. Nice guy, I guess I finally just snapped.” His speech becomes more impassioned as he tries to defend himself. “I mean, can you imagine what it’s like for everyone to think you’re so perfect all the time, to expect you to always do the right thing and never lose your temper? Who do you people think I am, Jesus?”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “I just wanted to do something bad, to get back at all of them, show them I can cut lose every once and awhile too.”

But why sodomy? For that he has no answer. He only turns to look up at the sky.

“The worst part is that God knows us before we’re even in the womb, which means he knows everything about us. He knew I was going to end up like this.” He shakes his fist at the sky. “How about a little warning, huh? Would it have killed you to give me a signal that maybe I was on the wrong path? Thanks for nothing, bastard!” He buries his face in his hands and bursts into tears.

After awhile Jerry’s sobs subside enough for him to say that the only reason he’s even going to heaven is so God can kick him in the balls before casting him into hell. “It’s well-known among the priesthood. I get one swift kick square in the nads, and all the other priests get to laugh and spit at me. You know how much it hurts when you get kicked in the nuts, right? Imagine when God does it.”

As we near the pearly gates, I ask him if he believes it’s fair for a man whose crime was having sex with boys to spend the rest of time among the likes of Hitler, Stalin, Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy and George Burns. Jerry’s fear is so paralyzing, however, that he seems unable to contemplate incomprehensible agony as one of the Godless forsaken in the inescapable bowels of Satan’s soulless void. And perhaps that’s just as well. ‘Cause brother, it’s gonna suck.