Well, what was more Hellish than a bureaucracy? That popping again, like an old microphone clicking on before the laughter began once more, just as tinny and uncanny as the first.

"Oh I don't doubt it, even without the murder! We're a bit crowded down there, kiddo, bit overfull. We run out room a lot more than you can imagine, it's real easy to get to! Makes me wonder if there's anyone in heaven!

What do you think?" Which was... a disconcerting question, if one was somewhat more morally or religiously inclined, really.

"Personal story, kid. Private information. Now I like you an awful lot, son, you seem like a fine boy, but heck, we've only been talkin' for five minutes. Tell you what though, I'll give you this-"

The hissing kicked up again, that voice steadily turning more distant and artificial,

"Heaven's got some important rules, son. About hobbies and fascinations, what you can and can't toss in a stock pot-" Click.

Back to normal.

"And they're real sticklers too, son. Killjoys! Ain't no heaven I want to be a part of, can't even have a little fun."