The fence between Heaven and Hell was falling apart. It was badly in need of repair. Saint Peter consulted his records and saw that by the terms of an ancient agreement, it was Satan's turn to fix the fence. So he gritted his teeth and sought an audience with the Prince of Darkness.

He found him in the nether regions, cleaning his pitchfork. Peter did not sit down. The smell of brimstone was heavy in the hot air. "You need to fix the fence," he said.

The devil twitched his red tail. He scratched behind a horn. "Now, Pete," he said, "you could be a little more friendly, after all these years."

"I don't want to be here at all," Peter said. "I just came to tell you the fence needs fixing."

"My people are too busy to spend time on your lousy fence. Fix it yourself."

"See here, you devil; …