Heaven smells like Kentucky Fried Chicken. It's a little known fact, on account that nobody that goes to heaven tends to come back to Earth to tell the tale.

A Haitian immigrant named Reggie Baley actually guessed this fact right after arriving to New York in early 1996. He had an extra crispy chicken breast with mashed potatoes and gravy, and later exclaimed: "This is what heaven is like!" And while we know it's not a 100% accurate, we believe he got pretty close to the real deal. Good for you, Baley!

Unfortunately, since he was a heavy marijuana smoker, he went straight to hell afterward. We at "Running With Scissors" would like to say, please avoid the Devil's lettuce at all cost.

Peter Katz did not partake of the wacky tobacky, so he was mostly fine in that regard. It was his other litany of misdeeds that earned him a one-way ticket to hell. But for a moment, he could see it in its entire splendor. Or at least part of it.

The gates to be precise.

It was a wonderful, marvelous, awe-inspiring gate. He instantly knew it was at least 40 meters high and 60 meters long. Of course, Peter had no idea how much that was since the metric system was lost on him. A sin on itself, if you ask us. But nobody ever does. It gets lonely, being a disembodied narrator following an egomaniac around.

Why don't we take a break? Let's just ignore this awful tale for a hot second and focus on our own story. How was your day, reader? Was it nice? I hope it was nice.

Peter wasn't having a nice day. He was dead and about to go to hell. But he didn't know that yet. Or really cared, for that matter. All he could think of is finding who made that gold-plated gate so he could hire them.

He willfully ignored that his clothes were made of the softest fabric know to the universe: Cherub pubes. Peter also ignored that he was literally walking on clouds. They're completely ergonomic by the way. Super soft.

In his state of awe, he also ignored the towering figure watching him from the gates. Until Peter rammed into it.

"Ouch!" Peter yelled as he fell backward. Of course, he felt no pain. One of the perks of being in heaven. "I'm walking over here!"

"Yes," said the figure in a voice like thunder. "I can see that."

Peter stood up, trying to appear bigger than he actually was. He was a pretty buff man, and in any other case, it would have worked. But the figure before him was over 6 meters long. Not that it meant anything to Peter. Metric system and all.

As Peter tapped his feet impatiently, he failed to realize no annoying tapping sound came. Another little fact about heaven is that it has a Sass filter. "So, are you going to apologize?" said Peter.

The figure moved his massive head slowly and patiently to face Peter. His eyes were like Aurora Borealis shimmering in the moonlight. Again, his voice boomed like thunder. "I don't see the point of me apologizing for you bumping into me. Seems hardly fair."

"Fair?" exclaimed Peter as he puffed himself up. "You wrinkled my suit! And I have dust all over my bottom now!"

"No, you don't," said the figure. There was a hint of patience in his voice, like one would have while treating with a spoiled child.

"Look, pal, this is dry-clean only, okay?" Peter grabbed his robe as to make a point, and only then did he feel the softness of a thousand baby-hairs caressing his body.

He also began to notice all the other weird things around him, like the fact he was walking on a cloud, or that there was a giant speaking to him with the voice of a lion.

"This isn't Gucci," whispered Peter.

The figure bent down to take a good look at Peter, sizing him up and down. "You don't need Gucci in heaven."

"Fudge you, Gucci is Heaven!" said Peter in automatic defense. It took him half a second to register what he had said. "Wait. You said heaven?"

"Yes," the figure said. "Just outside of heaven, to be precise."

"I died then." Peter was surprised by how calm he sounded. Maybe was the fact that he felt fantastic. There was no pain or everlasting diarrhea. He felt as if all of his worries were washed away. "How did I die?"

The figure raised one massive hand and with the snap of his fingers made an iPad materialize in front of him. "Let's see."

As the figure swiped madly at his iPad, he caught the confused look on Peter's face. "Steve Jobs hooked us up with these."

"Oh," said Peter jumping on his spot. Now that he had time to calm down, he found the figure's thunderous voice to be terrifying. "I wasn't-"

"It's okay," interrupted the figure. "We get that question a lot. And no, we can't give you one."

After a few seconds of swiping and awkward silences, the figure began to read something in earnest.

"It says here," boomed again, "that you died falling down a set of stairs into a bag of nuggets."

"Were they McDonald's?" asked Peter.

"Wendy's."

"Disgraceful," muttered Peter. "It hardly even matters now, does it?"

"Indeed," said the figure as a matter-of-fact. "The important thing is that your time on earth has elapsed, and now is time for you to spend your eternity in Hell."

"Of course, " said Peter with an earnest smile. "An eternity in...wait. You said Hell?"

"Indeed," repeated the figure in the same condescending tone as before. "Your actions have been weighted and measured, and you have been found unworthy of standing in the grandiose brilliance of our Lord and his children."

"I call bulkship!" yelled Peter in disdain. Seeing that the figure didn't even flinch, he decided to take a new approach again.

"I'm sorry. I think there has been a mistake. Let's start over. Hello. My name is Peter. You must be the famous Saint Peter, right?"

"I'm Saint Pedro," answered the figure. "Saint Peter is on a sabbatical century."

"Okay, Pedro," said Peter with thinly veiled disdain. "Here's the deal: I don't think you understand. I'm not a bad person. I belong here in heaven."

Pedro lowered his eyes again to the iPad, swiping a couple of times before clearing his powerful throat. "It says here that you once sued a child at Disney World for emotional damage because, and I quote: Little shirt took the last seat on that scary elevator ride thing and I really, really, wanted to ride it."

"It was just a little prank," said Peter with a nervous smile.

"You then proceeded to build up a case using social media posts to show the judge how egotistic and 'Borderline Sociopath' the kid was, using examples like how he took a toy from another kid or how he yelled in the mall because his parents wouldn't buy him a Jamba Juice."

"He was a little shirt, ain't it?"

"Thing is," said Pedro as he raised his voice so much that the clouds began to vibrate, "you're a horrible person."

Peter began to pace back and forth, trying to think a way out his jam. "What if I repent?"

"That works only when alive. It's too late here. Many have tried, but since their intentions are not of true repentance, but self-preservation, they fall short." With a snap of his fingers, the iPad disappeared.

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but Pedro raised his massive palm to stop him.

"Before you try, no, you can't distract me and rush the gates. You can't try to wrestle me into the ground either. And don't even dare to bribe me with a cool piece of cloud you found lying around. That only worked once, and I'm still trying to explain why Richard Nixon is milling around the Radiance Lake."

Bingo. Peter was, if anything, a terrific lawyer. If he couldn't get what he wanted with tricks, or force, or bribery, he would get it with extortion. And he was just handed the biggest piece of heavenly extortion ever.

"Oh, okay then," said Peter with a faked dismal tone. "I guess I'm doomed to the fiery pits of hell."

"Inde-"

"But before that," interrupted Peter, "I would like to speak to your superior."

Pedro's face was stalwart and hard, but he nodded curtly for a second before snapping his fingers once. "This is hopeless," he commented, "but I'll give you a chance."

A tower of light descended from above, making even the air rumble from the sheer pressure it exuded. Peter was instantly blinded by the brilliance of the being coming out of it. It was even taller than Pedro with a shimmering halo and eyes like fire.

It was also wearing a Speedo and a summer hat.

"What now, Pedro?" asked the annoyed figure. He had a giant paddle grasped in his hand.

"Saint Peter," said Pedro as he solemnly bowed to the mythical apostle. "This human has requested to speak to you."

Saint Peter quickly bowed to see the puny figure of Peter Katz cowering on the floor. If Pedro's voice was like thunder, Saint Peter's voice was like a thousand Sharknados storming through San Francisco Bay. "I'm playing paddle ball with Mahatma Gandhi, and I'm winning. Make it quick."

The words got stuck in Peter's throat. He was about to extort an all-powerful being that could wipe him from existence with only the sound of his voice.

The alternative, however, was hell.

"Hello, your grace," said Peter as he bowed comically. "I just wanted to talk to you about President Nixon and why he is in Heaven."

While Saint Peter's face was unfazed, Pedro's face was in a panic.

Pedro quickly jammed himself between the sinner and the saint. He spoke with one long breath and without pause. "He just wanted to say that Richard Nixon is in heaven mostly likely because of all his contributions to the Jewish community and yes we know that his works didn't exactly match his actions since he was by most accounts an anti-Semitic prick but he did so much for the Jewish people and his foreign policy reflected that and he never said no to the advice of the religious figures around him and I totally believe him when he said he was not a crook okay bye."

And with a snap of his fingers, Pedro wished the Saint away.

"Are you mad?!" yelled Pedro, "you're going to get us both destroyed!"

And that's how you do it, Peter Katz style. His shit-eating grin was plastered from ear to ear.

"Now, are you gonna get me into heaven?"

"No!" said Pedro. "If I do that, then we're both done for!"

"If you send me to hell, you will be done for."

Now Pedro was pacing back and forth. His face was twisted into pure pain and suffering. An art form Peter mastered and enjoyed thoroughly.

Pedro snapped his fingers once again and made the iPad appear in front of him. "Let's pretend this never happened."

"How so?" asked Peter.

After touching the iPad a few more times, Peter began glowing.

"I shall send you back to Earth. You're going to die in a few months anyway, so why don't you try being good for a change? Also, I'm afraid I must erase part of your memory. Won't be using Nixon against me again."

Peter wanted to make a witty retort, but before he could do that, Pedro snapped his fingers.

And it all faded to black.