I’m not a good person. Usually. Generally. I mean, I’ve done nice things for people, and I genuinely care about people, but I’ve also made choices that for one or another will most assuredly end up with me going to hell. If hell exists, which it does not, but if I’m wrong, I’m most assuredly going to spend some time there.
At lunch, one of my friends urged me to tell this story because he thinks it’s one of my best. Clearly, he meant worst. Not because I killed anyone or anything like that, but it may demonstrate some of my less ideal tendencies.
Let me walk you through it.