Scene: The Pearly Gates
The Costanzas stand in front of an ornate, glowing gate surrounded by clouds. A line of angels hum serenely in the background, holding clipboards. St. Peter, clad in a dazzling white robe and carrying a golden quill, looks up from his heavenly ledger as the Costanzas shuffle forward.
St. Peter: (smiling) "Welcome to the Pearly Gates. Name, please?"
Frank: (crossing his arms) "Costanza. Frank Costanza. This is my wife, Estelle, and my son, George. We’re here for the big time!"
St. Peter: (consulting his ledger) "Let me see... Costanza, Frank." (His smile fades slightly.) "Ah, yes. Frank, there’s... quite a record here."
Frank: "A record? What kind of record? I was a good man! I invented Festivus, for crying out loud!"
St. Peter: "Yes, and you also yelled at a cashier for 45 minutes because they wouldn’t take expired coupons."
Frank: (waving his hand dismissively) "Oh, come on! That was years ago! Coupons expire; it’s a scam! I was standing up for the little guy!"
Estelle: "Little guy? You screamed at a teenager until he cried! And what about the time you got banned from the neighbourhood pool for accusing the lifeguard of stealing your sunscreen?"
Frank: (to St. Peter) "It was a conspiracy!"
St. Peter: "Hmm. It also says here you once tried to ‘unionise’ a heavenly choir rehearsal you attended in Purgatory. Care to explain?"
Frank: "They weren’t giving them proper breaks! It was a travesty!"
Estelle: (rolling her eyes) "Can we just get this over with? I have better things to do than stand around on a cloud."
St. Peter: "Estelle Costanza. Let’s see..." (flipping pages) "Oh dear. It seems you have some unresolved... incidents."
Estelle: "Incidents? What incidents?"
St. Peter: "Yelling at a hospital nurse for bringing you lukewarm tea during George’s birth, for one."
Estelle: "That tea was an insult! I was in labour! And it wasn’t just lukewarm—it was tepid! Tepid!"
George: (groaning) "Oh, God, not this story again."
St. Peter: "Speaking of George..." (turning to him) "Ah, George Costanza. Your file... is extensive."
George: (nervous) "Extensive good, or extensive... bad?"
St. Peter: "Let’s see... chronic lying, pretending to be a marine biologist, faking an interest in architecture, pushing down an elderly woman to escape a fire—"
George: (interrupting) "Okay, okay, but that was all... situational!"
Frank: (snapping) "Situational? You shoved an old lady! Who does that?!"
George: "She had a walker! She could take the hit!"
Estelle: "Don’t forget the time he pretended to be handicapped to get a better parking spot."
George: (defensive) "I gave the spot back when I got caught!"
St. Peter: (sighing) "It’s clear the three of you are... complicated cases."
Frank: "Complicated? What’s complicated about us? We’re great! Salt of the earth! Let us in, already!"
Suddenly, a booming voice echoes from the clouds.
God: (in a deep, commanding tone) "FRANK COSTANZA."
Frank: (looking up) "What? What do you want from me?!"
God: "DO YOU BELIEVE YOU DESERVE HEAVEN?"
Frank: "Deserve? Deserve?! I lived a life of integrity, I spoke my mind, and I didn’t take any crap from anybody! If that doesn’t earn me a spot, I don’t know what does!"
God: "VERY WELL. LET’S PUT IT TO A TEST."
The clouds part, revealing a celestial version of the Serenity Now! mantra, written in glowing letters.
God: "REPEAT THIS PHRASE AND MEAN IT: 'SERENITY NOW.' "
Frank: (veins bulging) "Serenity... Now? SERENITY NOW?! I’LL SHOW YOU SERENITY NOW!"
He launches into a tirade so loud it rattles the gates.
God: (chuckling) "AS EXPECTED."
St. Peter: (smiling politely) "I’m afraid heaven might not be... the right fit for you."
Frank: "Oh, come on! This place is full of goody-goodies, anyway! Who needs it?"
George: (panicking) "Wait, wait, wait! What about me? I’ll be good! I’ll change! I’ll stop lying, I’ll... I’ll even go back to work!"
St. Peter: "George, your track record speaks for itself."
Estelle: "What about me? I was a saint compared to these two!"
St. Peter: "You once sold counterfeit handbags as a side hustle."
Estelle: "They were good fakes!"
The gates begin to close as the Costanzas argue.
George: "Where are we supposed to go now?"
Frank: "Who cares? We’ll figure it out! Come on, let’s find somewhere that appreciates us!"
As they vanish from the gates, a serene calm settles over the heavenly realm.
St. Peter: (to an angel) "Make a note: No Costanzas in the afterlife. Ever."
