(This story is from a great blog)
You sin. Then you sin some more. And then even more. A bit later you figure you better get some insurance and so you visit the priest. You confess and he prescribes some anodyne penance, like 30 Hail Marys and giving up chocolate fudge sundaes every other month - after which, he assures you, all will be forgiven and the Pearly Gates will remain open for your minimally sorry (as in con-trite) ass.
Lo and behold, the fullness of time soon arrives and yup, though you walk through the Valley of Death without fear of punishment because of said priest's soothing reassurances, you suddenly find yourself facing none other than Mr. Fire and Brimstone himself.
"Woa", you say, "there must be a mistake in the database. Father Ben told me all would be well and I even did an extra Our Father three nights in a row."
The Trickster smiles devilishly (how else would he smile?), as he heaves you towards the nearest fiery pit and says: "Your greatest sin was believing ... (read the rest here -