Explore "Mr. Sheets" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Devil stood before the gate / Of Heaven. He had a single mate: / Behind him, in his shadow, slunk / Clay Sheets in a perspiring funk. / "Saint Peter, see this season ticket," / Said Satan; "pray undo the wicket." / The sleepy Saint threw slight regard / Upon the proffered bit of card, / Signed by some clerical dead-beats: / "Admit the bearer and Clay Sheets." / Peter expanded all his eyes: / "Clay Sheets?' -- well, I'll be damned!" he cries. / "Our couches are of golden cloud; / Nothing of earth is here allowed.
I'll let you in," he added, shedding / On Nick a smile -- "but not your bedding."