Titles: Deadly Sins &
Matt/Mello, mentions of Near and L.
Word Count: 2,262
Warning: This story deals with, and makes fun of, a variety of religious beliefs, particularly Christian ones. It's basically Matt's interpretation of why Mello will be going to hell, so there are a lot of stupid, snarky jokes, and not a lot of reverence for the concepts being discussed. I don't mean any offense towards anyone, and the ideas expressed here are not necessarily ones I agree with. Also, some of this may sound like Mello-bashing, but that's not what it's supposed to be.
We regret to inform you that your immortal soul has been condemned to Hell. In all likelihood, you were anticipating this. After all, you've broken multiple commandments, and committed not one, not two, not five, but iall seven/ideadly sins. Unless you've been paying as little attention to your sins as you do to the care of your burn wounds, I'm sure you're aware that they are many. Just in case you're not sure what we mean, we'll go over your sins in detail. We'll even provide you with a nice sin-by-sin breakdown, so it's easy for you to understand. We'll start with 'envy'.
Oh Mello. Mello Mello Mello Mello Mello. If writing your name over and over again was a sin, we'd be guilty, but it isn't, thank the Lord. You know what is a sin, though? Envy. And if anyone is guilty of envy, it's you.
Near, the bane of your existence, isn't such a bad kid. Sure, he's a real pain to have a conversation with, and we can see why you might be rankled by his superior intelligence and grades. Your dear friend Matt didn't care that you surpassed him, but unlike him, you just couldn't accept not being the best. You were jealous of what Near had—which was what, two extra points on each exam? You envied the slightest little thing he got—when his cookie was a few crumbs bigger than yours, you snatched it out of his hands and he didn't say anything. You ate both cookies and spit the crumbs in his face. Might we remind you that this is, in fact, stealing, and that that is, in fact, against the eighth (we think it's eighth) commandment? You even envied the negative things—you wouldn't say it, but it's obvious to God that you were jealous of him for breaking both his legs and getting all that glorious attention. His legs never worked properly again, after that, but you didn't care, you were still jealous. You envied how calm he was, even though it was due to a serious emotional void that barred him from normal social contact. He was practically a robot, but you were jealous anyway. Of a robot.
Also, God is fully aware of how desperately jealous you were friend Matt's flawless physique and large penis. You should have been satisfied with your own lot, Mello. A small penis isn't the end of the world.
The story about the cookies reminds us of one of your greatest sins—gluttony. You were a chocolate fiend. Not that we mind tremendously if the mafia is low on funds, us being a holy organization that frowns upon thugs, but you used up far more of their resources than you should have been allowed to on chocolate. And not just any chocolate, no, it had to be the finest chocolate available. You had to have chocolate imported from obscure French boutiques, even Godiva wasn't good enough for you. Don't you know that Godiva has the word God in it? Anyway, your chocolate consumption certainly qualifies you as a glutton. Your primary sins here are laute (eating too expensively) and nimis (eating too much). You could have fed a third world country for a week with the amount of chocolate you cram down your mouth—you could have at least offered loyal Matt a bar or two! In any case, dude, you're a glutton. Moving on.
/You're so vain/you probably think this song is about you/. Yes, we listen to Carly Simon in Heaven. We also listen to Simon & Garfunkel. Actually, the only Simon we don't listen to is Simon from Alvin & The Chipmunks. Those little pipsqueaks are going to burn in hell when they're gone. Anyway, to the point. You, Mello, are incredibly prideful. Your ego is the most inflated thing that any of us have ever seen. It is a marvel of nature, towering over redwood trees and skyscrapers alike. For example, you actually had the audacity to tell Matt, Master of the Nintendo, that you could beat him at Soul Caliber II. You were so convinced of your own untested abilities that you actually took on someone who has dedicated a substantial portion of his life to figuring out how to make Voldo crotchthrust Talim out of the ring in the most provocative way possible. You lost of course, and then you pouted about it for days. Losing hurt your ego, after all.
Of course, we here in Heaven know it's all an act. Your pride serves to veil a small child who laps up every complement, who thinks he's as far from being L as an earthworm is. You might make bombastic claims about being the best, but we know that that's not what you really think. We're not sure if lying is a sin or not (we'll have to look that up in our Heavenly books) but we're pretty sure that it's not considered cool.
You know what? You aren't actually guilty of this. We said that you were guilty of all seven deadly sins, but you're only guilty of six. We here in Heaven cannot think of a single slothlike thing you've done. You're the opposite, you're constantly on the move, you wouldn't even rest for more than a few days after being caught in an explosion! Explosions kill people. You were lucky to survive at all, but you were really pushing it. You had someone telling you to sit the fuck down and take your medicine, but you didn't listen to Matt. God gave you a life for reason, but you've made it abundantly clear that you aren't very grateful for His gift. You take stupid, pointless risks with your life, and not only does God disapprove, but so does L. He always told us to never take risks we didn't have to, and he is so disappointed in you.
You press the snooze button on your alarm clock sometimes if you stayed up too late the night before. Maybe that's sloth. We don't think that's enough to punish you for it, however.
This one is a little redundant. We here in Heaven aren't sure exactly how this differs from envy and gluttony. We should probably get ourselves a dictionary, and we will, once Heaven opens up a bookstore. We probably know it somewhere in the back of our heavenly heads, but the concepts are certainly quite similar. For now, we'll talk about your greedy, grasping clutch on the mafia. While you didn't join it for the money, you weren't adverse to taking whatever money came your way, no matter how ill-gotten. You also refused to share your gains fairly—Matt deserved a far larger cut than what you gave him. And the money meant more to him than it did to you, what you wanted was power, not cash. You climbed your way to the top and for what? To get Kira? To make a life for yourself as Kira's target should you fail to bring him down? It seems as if all you want is, once again, to be number one. Whether it's the mafia or the orphanage or the motherfucking Girl Scouts, Mello always has to be number one.
Heaven finds it difficult to blame you for this one. After all, you got laid. Your sexual prowess has actually been rather impressive, and it's not like none of us here in Heaven have sex drives. We're angels, which means that are tragically bereft of genitalia, so we're more…voyeurs, than anything else. We get off on the sex lives of mortals. Well, some of us. Brian over there is a little too pious, and he thinks our behavior is disgusting. I don't know what his problem is, I mean, God's cool with it. Anyway, let's talk about your lust.
You have had more sex than anybody ever expected you to. Because L was socially retarded, and too busy being a detective anyway, he probably never got laid. He never said he had anything against it, never mentioned it at all, but it was pretty common knowledge at Wammy's House that L was a virgin. (Come on, it was a house full of would-be detectives, if he'd had sex, they'd know.) As such, you seemed to think that sex was filthy. Just because L had never found a woman who could tolerate him. But anyway, once you left the orphanage, you made up for lost time. You banged the ever-loving shit out of everybody. Big-breasted whores, anorexic mafia sluts, you name it, you'd fucked it. And lucky you, you got to have regular sex with one of the single most attractive men we've seen on Earth so far. Yeah, that's right, it's your good friend Matt.
You guys did everything. Whips, chains, blowjobs, rimming, anal sex, you name it, you and Matt were going at it like rabbits. You even tried fisting, but you couldn't really make that one work—there's only so far the anus will stretch, after all. Despite your previous claims that sex was dirty, you wanted to spend every spare second fucking Matt's brains out. You interrupted many a Tetris game with your incessant need to pillage his butt. I, personally, cannot blame you. Matt is one of the sexiest creatures I have ever laid eyes on. But, apparently we're not into homosexuality here. I'm not really sure why, and I break the rules on a regular basis with Brian (apparently I've got a think for uptight angels, and apparently you don't need genitals for sexytimes), but there you have it. So that's another strike against you. Actually, just having sex with anyone besides your wife is a problem and I don't think you actually have a wife, so…yeah…moving on!
So, sitting next to us is a twelve-year-old boy. He's a nice kid. Never really did anything wrong—slightly guilty of lust, but that's normal for a kid his age. He never took it to excess, never did anything more than kiss his girlfriend and think about how maybe one day he would get to see her without her top on.
Now, you probably didn't mean to kill this kid, but you did. You were on a mission from the mafia back when you were their lapdog. You were supposed to take out the kid's father, we aren't sure why because the mafia member who did know wasn't in our rotation. (In case you didn't know, each group of angels gets a list of humans they're supposed to keep an eye on, and we decide together what their fate should be. I'm pretty sure that that's not what it says in the bible, but I wouldn't know, I didn't read the thing.) Anyhow, you were alarmingly eager to kill this guy. After you did, you wouldn't shut up about how exhilarating it was to pull the trigger. This is disturbing, but it would have been a lot less so if you hadn't extended your violence to the child.
This kid, we think his name was Billy Meehan, he walked in on you while you had a gun to his father's head. Billy wasn't the sharpest (brightest? Is it sharpest or brightest?) crayon in the box. Instead of leaving before you could see him and calling the cops, Billy called you a fucking asshole and flipped you the bird. He's a good kid, but even good kids lose their shit when some crazy transvestite clad in leather puts a gun to his father's head.
We can think of a logical explanation for what you did next, but you never did explain it that way, perhaps because of your pride. Instead of saying that his having seen you was a security risk, you said, "nobody talks to me like that. Little shit deserved to die." Which is, well, sickening. You shot Billy's dad, then whirled around, grabbed him by the collar, and shot him too. Then you proceeded to tell all and sundry about how impressive you were for killing a twelve-year-old who insulted you. Great job.
You killed plenty of others, too, which is a fairly major problem. Thou shalt not kill is probably one of the most important commandments there is. We haven't been keeping a strict record, but we're willing to bet you've killed at least thirty. Some of those deaths were legitimate—even us heavenly folk understand killing in self-defense—but some of them were because they made you angry. It's not okay to react to an asshole by shooting him. You insult Matt all the time, how would you feel if he decided to gun you down for it? We don't think he minds tremendously, he's good at ignoring you, but suppose he got sick of it, hm? Suppose he decided, "I'm sick of obeying your every fucking command and getting shit for it!" What would you do then, Mello? He's done nothing but help you, and yet you are constantly dumping your endless rage on him, like he deserves it! You fucki—
In the end, Matt tears up the letter. It doesn't seem so funny anymore, not after watching Mello grab his cross and beg God not to desert him in his final mission. Not after watching him swear he'll be a better person from now on if he can just get to Kira before Near does. It's a stupid goal, but that doesn't matter as much as it probably should.
Actually, it doesn't matter at all.