Robert C. Caster Jr. was widely known throughout Thomasville as a diligent worker, a generous host, and a responsible citizen. Success at work allowed parties at the house, the abundance of food, and the scores of friends - accomplishments Robert worked hard to cultivate. Never being satisfied in the norm of the moment, Robert enjoyed commanding and holding the attention and respect of most people he met. You might even say it was a pre-occupation of his. It didn't matter what he did, or how much he was being paid, Robert was driven by never being satisfied unless he perceived that at least someone was gauging his worth in the most favorable of lights.
There was also certain man named Larry, who was deformed from his birth. Larry could neither speak like most people nor did he have complete use of his left hand. In Thomasville, none were more disadvantaged than poor Larry. People saw disadvantage as Larry's main occupation and the only means by which Larry was able stay alive. Staying alive by other people's charity, Larry would say, required of him a certain sense of duty to his benefactors. So Larry prayed blessings on all who gave to him and his blessings were well known among the faithful, for God seemed to honor them.
So when Robert C. Caster got out of work, as he did every Friday, at 5:00 PM, joined his co-workers at the factory and passed through the northern security gate of the complex on his way to the parking lot "A". And as usual, he had with him, his entourage of people anxious to hear juicy tidbits they could take home and talk about. Robert was just about to deliver the punch-line to the joke he had learned while surfing on the internet, when Larry interrupted.
"Got any left-over's for me and my buddies Mr. Caster?" Larry always used everyone's last name.
Robert resented being constantly singled out, all because he made the mistake of giving Larry the contents of his lunch box after a busy no-break work day. (No-break work days were frequent, because of the government's latest order for new parts came in.) At the time, he had felt good about his generosity, but since the hobo's were ripping apart the garbage bags looking for such gifts from above, the company installed a locked dumpster and the employees were encouraged to toss their leftovers into the dumpster instead of handing them out to the street people or throwing them away in a garbage can that could be toppled or torn apart.
"Not today, buddy...", Robert lied.
"Oh, that's okay, Mr. Caster.", said Larry. "I appreciated that Twinkie you gave me last week. I love Twinkies! Thank you Mr. Caster... You have a nice evening!"
Robert wondered why those people had to speak so loudly. It's not like they can't work... Laziness shouldn't be rewarded. He made it a point to show the entourage that he put his leftovers in the locked dumpster before heading to his car. The snickers meant that his message was sent and received. Larry didn't notice - somewhat to Robert's disappointment.
Then one day, Larry was by the north gate, Mr. Caster was walking with the usual crowd, when unbeknownst to them all, a small crack in the joint weld of a liquid oxygen tank was finishing its year long journey to failure. And the fact that a corroded ground wire had stopped directing static electricity to a safe place caused the day to take a horrible turn.
For both men, the curtain of this life closed, and the curtain of what happens to the souls of people, opened...
The resulting explosion was heard in nearby Clarkson, 20 miles from the blast area, and was measured on seismographs as far away as Denver. Mr. Caster didn't feel a thing, one moment he was there, then next moment he wasn't. Larry was less fortunate than Mr. Caster, his charred remains were found behind a concrete pylon, still clutching what looked to be a piece of chicken bone.
The messengers who came to Larry, who was now standing erect and full of glory, gently held him by his arms and lifted him up to see his Friend, He whom Larry had talked to, faithfully, each day he was alive. Robert, the talk of Thomasville was also standing, but was standing before a freshly filled ditch, dug near the compost heap his gardener used to empty the fish gut pail from the kitchen. The messengers who came for Mr. Caster, hooked him by the flesh just above his shoulder blades and cast him before the Judge, whom he neither knew nor recognized.

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"I know no method to secure the repeal of bad or obnoxious laws so effective as their stringent execution." March 4, 1869, Grant's First Inaugural Address