Saint Peter looks over the three men and sighs, gently shaking his head. “Look, we’re doing some renovations in there at the moment, so we can’t accept too many people at once. We can take one of you, so… Whoever had the most tragic death, you get to go in first. Sound good?”

The three men all agree, and get in order to tell their stories.

“I was out for my nightly jog around the neighbourhood when I heard yelling from a nearby window. I turned to look and, next thing I knew, I was struck by a falling fridge.” Saint Peter nodded, a little perplexed, then turned to the next man in the line.

“I had just come home from work when I noticed the smell of sweat in the air and another man’s clothes in the bedroom. I looked around and, out the window, I saw a man running away from the apartment. Then I just saw red. I picked up the fridge and threw it out the window at him. Turns out the strain on an angry heart wasn’t the best for me, and I just collapsed.” Peter nodded, a little concerned about if this man should even get in, but he had bigger things to deal with. Instead, he looked at the third man in the line.

“So… Imagine you’re hiding naked in a fridge…”