Daily Joke: The Divorce Attorney Who Tried to Negotiate with Saint Peter

Arthur was a ruthless New York divorce lawyer. He billed in six-minute increments, wore suits that cost more than most cars, and hadn’t felt a pang of genuine empathy since law school. So, when a sudden, stress-induced heart attack struck him down right in the middle of a particularly lucrative alimony negotiation, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find himself standing before the towering, pearl-encrusted gates of Heaven.

Saint Peter stood at the golden podium, looking through a massive, glowing ledger. He peered over his half-moon glasses at the lawyer.
“Arthur,” Saint Peter boomed gently. “You’ve spent your life dividing assets and breaking homes. Tell me, what have you done to merit entrance into Heaven?”

Arthur straightened his silk tie, slipping instantly into negotiation mode. “Well, Your Honor—er, Saint Peter. I’m a very charitable man. Just last week, I was walking to the office and I gave a quarter to a homeless person on the street.”

Saint Peter raised an eyebrow. He glanced over his shoulder at the Archangel Gabriel, who was scrolling through a celestial tablet. “Gabriel, check the records.”

Gabriel tapped the screen, nodded once, and gave a thumbs-up. “Verified, Pete. One quarter. Last Tuesday.”

Saint Peter sighed, looking back at Arthur. “Well, that’s fine, Arthur. It’s a nice gesture. But honestly, a single quarter isn’t really quite enough to get you into Heaven.”

Arthur panicked. His billable hours were running out. “Wait, wait! Objection! There’s more!” he pleaded, holding up a finger. “Three years ago, I was walking out of a steakhouse, and I gave another homeless person a quarter!”

Saint Peter looked at Gabriel. Gabriel swiped left on his tablet, scrolled down, and nodded again. “Verified. Another quarter. Three years ago.”

Saint Peter rubbed his temples. The heavenly choir in the background seemed to awkwardly pause. He leaned in and whispered to Gabriel,

“Well, what do you suggest we do with this fellow? His spiritual net worth is practically zero.”

Gabriel gave the lawyer a long, sidelong glance. He looked at the lawyer’s Italian leather shoes, his gold Rolex, and his desperate, calculating eyes.

Gabriel leaned back to the microphone and said deadpan:

“Let’s give him back his fifty cents and tell him to go to Hell.”