some justice

For a moment, Serenity's world was chaos. There was the protest of tires squealing desperately to a halt, the cold sound of metal upon metal, and a flash of pain, and then it was all over. She never saw it happen.

 

When she came to herself, she found herself standing in a line long enough to hold all the people in creation, yet that moved briskly enough that she scarcely seemed to have waited at all. When she reached the front of the line, she discovered that St. Peter was letting people through the Pearly Gates based on their answer to a single question.

 

"How much money did you make last year?" the saint asked the man two spots ahead of Serenity. The man was older and distinguished, carrying himself with authority and ease in a pricey suit with a silk tie.

 

"I earned $175,000 in my job, plus additional earnings through my investments and other revenue sources," the man said.

"Ah, yes." St. Peter sighed. "We've been expecting you, governor." With the shake of his head, he pressed a button and the politician disappeared in a flash of light and a puff of smoke. The scent of brimstone lingered in the air only a moment before a breeze from beyond the gates carried it away.

 

And now it was the turn of the woman in front of Serenity.

"How much money did you make last year?" St Peter asked her.

 

The woman before Serenity paused a moment, looked up and out thoughtfully, and said, "I charged $125 an hour a time, and averaged about $250,000 a year in take-home, give or take a few."

"A lawyer," St. Peter said sadly, and she too disappeared, even faster than the governor had.

By this time, Serenity was feeling nervous, feeling the chances of getting past the gates were pretty slim. But when St. Peter asked, "How much money did you make last year?" she said, meekly, "$5,143," and waited for the dismissal.

To Serenity's great surprise, St. Peter opened the door to heaven and escorted her inside personally, turning only to ask one question.

 

"What grade did you teach?"