A guy just died and is standing at the pearly gates, waiting to be admitted, while St. Peter is leafing through a big book to see if the guy is worthy. St. Peter goes through the book several times and furrows his brow.
“You know, I can’t see that you ever did anything really bad in your life, but you never did anything really good either. If you can point to even one really good deed, you’re in.”
The guy thinks for a moment. “Yeah, there was this one time when I was driving down the highway and saw a giant group of biker gang members vandalizing a schoolyard. I slowed down my car to see what was going on and sure enough, there they were, about 50 of ’em smashing in windows, tearing off doors and setting fires. Infuriated, I got out of my car, grabbed a tire iron out of my trunk, walked up to the leader of the gang — a huge guy with a studded leather jacket and a chain running from his nose to his ear. As I walked up to the leader, the biker gang members formed a circle around me. So, I ripped the leader’s chain off his face and smashed him over the head with the tire iron. Laid him out. Then I turned and yelled at the rest of them, ‘Leave this poor building alone! You’re all a bunch of sick, deranged animals! Go home before I teach you all a lesson in pain!'”
St. Peter, impressed starts looking through his book again and says, “Really? When did this happen?”
“Oh, about two minutes ago.”