He looks over the paperwork. What the heaven should I do with this one? He thinks as he thumbs through the pages. He is okay with sorting souls, but one would pop up like this every now and again. The file starts…

A serial adulterer with three divorces and four marriages. If you don’t succeed at first, try, try, try, and finally try again. Really, surely after two times, the women in his life should have cottoned on to the fact he would not be sticking around. Humans, he would never understand them.

Then there were the children, seven. Just left, discarded like fast-food restaurant packaging. There had been more affairs than he cared to read through, page after page of people that had been used and then dumped. Finally, the cherry on the top of a pink orgy of a cake, he had forced one of his conquests to have an abortion. So it has to be lust, doesn’t it?

This is usually easy, but no, this case would be a pain in the arse. Onwards and upwards, deeper and deeper into the paperwork rabbit hole.

Money, all he cared about was money. The more he could get, the happier he would feel. The happiness was never long-lasting. How could it have been? It was just an extra few numbers added to his already overflowing off-shore account. Funnelling it from pet projects, he especially enjoyed taking it from those in need. He ran his finger down the page. No, That is not fair. It wasn’t that he enjoyed it; it was just they were less able to fight back. It was stealing the candy from a baby, and if you see what he has left in his account, it would be hard to say he had not been good at it.

Wrath and violence. He was guilty of both. Not by his own hands. He was not that stupid, but he used others to carry out his revenge. Conspiring to have people beaten up. It has gone too far once or twice, but there was no point crying over spilt blood, right? That was what he believed, wrongly. Just an admission of guilt once or twice, and he may not have been looking at an eternity down here.

Fraud, he is a fraud. Of this, he knows. He can have told you straight away after scanning the file. The internet had made it simpler. Did that mitigate in a little? No, he did not think so. He had known what he was doing was wrong. Spreading rumours, dishing the dirt that often was not accurate, all to build his own profile. The internet is a tool; you can’t blame the tool for the evils of man.

And finally, he ate. Oh, my word, did he eat. It may not have been the worse crime in the world. It was not in any way the worse thing that he had done in life. It was a niggle; it was not the worst offence, but it was also one that he had committed daily. Monday through to Friday, Saturdays and Sundays, he would pass rows of homeless, starving people, and he ignored them. Would it really have been so much hardship for him to have helped them occasionally? He just ignored them, walking along, nose held high as they lived in abject poverty.

Siphoning money, channelling wave after wave into his own accounts and ignoring those most in need. Helping the needy was something that everyone should do; it was something that everybody could do. Yet he didn’t. He just turned a blind eye.

He fingers the paperwork once more and taps all four fingers and the thumb on the top page. What to do, what to do with him. Then he has an idea. This one was in greed, and he deserves it. Love thy fellow man, yet he only loved himself.

But then, after this one, it was over. Then this life, this job, fuck it.

He leans forward and flicks a switch. The sign on the door flashes and then flicks from open to closed.

Hell is closed for business. Earth and humanity deserve each other.