Paul Ryan was struck by lightning and pronounced dead at the scene. While his body was still being loaded into the can to be transported to the morgue, his soul arrived at the gates of heaven, where he was ushered directly to the front of the line.
"PAUL RYAN," Saint Peter's voice boomed. He didn't appear to move his lips when he spoke and Paul Ryan was reminded of the weak and pitiful wizard of oz when he spoke from behind the curtain. Paul Ryan hated that movie. It was scary and full of disgusting peasants, and he was never able to figure out whether he was supposed to root for the witch or what. Also it was a musical.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE?" Boomed the disembodied voice of Saint Peter.
"Well, it seems that I was not invincible after all," chuckled Paul Ryan. "God knows I did my best to assure that I would be, but, well. What are you going to do?"
"GOD KNOWS ALL. I AM GOING TO JUDGE YOU."
Paul Ryan thought Saint Peter might be very literal. He decided to try to speak more plainly. Paul Ryan's last boss hadn't been very good with idioms either.
"So anyway," Paul Ryan went on, "I guess I'm here to go to heaven."
"NOT SO FAST." Saint Peter's voice seemed to be getting louder. "WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT YOUR POLITICS."
Of course, Paul Ryan thought to himself. Even a saint has to look like he's working.
"Well, Sir, I think you'll find that all of my work in the House was guided by my faith."
"WAS IT THOUGH?"
Paul Ryan didn't understand. He smiled, then abruptly stopped; it had been said that his smirk was off-putting, a fact that had never bothered him until this moment.
"Certainly it was. We saved a lot of unborn babies."
Paul Ryan's smirk returned, unbidden, but this time a little worry crept in.
"I HEREBY DECREE THAT BEING A REPUBLICAN SHITBAG REPRESENTATIVE IS A PREEXISTING CONDITION THAT SHALL DISQUALIFY YOU FROM ENTRANCE TO HEAVEN."
Saint Peter chuckled quietly as he stamped NO ADMITTANCE ON PARTY BUSINESS in his book next to Paul Ryan's name.