From "The Engagement of Heaven and Hell (For William Blake)"

It was Monday afternoon when the saints met up in the conference room. Peter wanted to call everyone in early Monday morning, but it was Heaven after all and there was precedence that no one gets up before noon. The saints sauntered in, exhausted from their all night partying. Putting their feet up on the desk, they looked around for some coffee. It being Heaven, there was a dark Italian roast brewing with little Italian children serving while singing gentle opera tunes. God watched as the saints slurped and spilled their drinks. No wonder Heaven's floors were sticky. Glancing down at his sandals, God wondered exactly what went wrong with the plan.

"Er, how's everyone doing today?" The Maker of the Universe asked politely. No one even acknowledged his presence. Apparently they had found a loophole in the system that God nor Peter anticipated. Once in Heaven, a soul was guaranteed an eternal stay. Thus all the motivation to be good was lost once a soul experienced the joys of Paradise. God got up and peered through the window at all the lazy souls lying around with their beer guts and stubble. They didn't even bother floating anymore.

"That's it you lazy good for nothing assholes. We're making some changes around here whether you like it or not. Peter seems to be the only one I can trust seeing as though you people are too busy mooching off my goodness to even care to pay attention at this lousy meeting." God seethed at the saints.

"But it's Heaven and we can do what we want" a low level angel said, poking his head into the room.

"Who the fuck are you? You're not even a part of the committee! Go back to smoking whatever the fuck you were smoking before you decided to bust your insignificant ass into this meeting." The Creator of the Universe narrowed his eyes. "Now who the fuck who belongs in this room has an idea about how to fix this?"

Peter raised his hand since no one seemed to be listening. "Well, I heard through a friend of a friend that hell is having some problems. Apparently no one's really suffering and the misery quota has fallen. I could fax over a letter to Beelzebub as I think the wisest choice would be to propose some kind of temporary merger. Once things are settled, we can go back to being better than them and rubbing it in their faces."