“Why are you here?” the Gattekeeper asked Alan.
“I was guilty of wearing a hoody.”
“What’s a hoody?” asked the Gatekeeper.
“Man, where are you from?” Alan asked, showing him the hooded sweatshirt he wore.
“What a fine garment,” the Gatekeeper said. “In my day, you stayed cold and wet. Go on in.” And he waved Alan through the Pearly Gates.
“How about you?” the Gatekeeper asked Arthur.
“I died of a heart attack after shooting my assailant. The stress was too much for me,” Arthur said.
“Who attacked you?” the Gatekeeper asked.
“A Black teen. He wore a hoody, so in spite of his being unarmed, going about his lawful business, and not messing with me, I shot him dead.”
“I have a far warmer spot for you than this one, the Gatekeeper said, and he waved to two small demons lounging to the left of the gate. “Take him away.”