The Return.

 Peter stood outside the church shop run by the local Whangarei Heads Catholic church. He knew he was home.

He was older now, and in need of a haircut, but he was on comfortable ground.

"Hello, I'm Father Mike Oxbig." said a man dressed in black. "I've seen you doing road patrol at Saint Peter's Primary. Now I hear you're going to be running our church shop. You're a good Catholic Paul."

"It's Peter, but I'm not the guy the school's named after." Peter attempted a little joke and Father Mike half smiled.

"It was very generous of you to donate two dozen Cleanskins to our shop. I notice that those condoms you donated are way past the use by date but I'm sure the clergy won't mind." said Father Mike. "Don't forget to push the holy pictures and try to keep your hands off the communion hosts."

Father Mike's request was too late, but Peter said nothing.

Breakfast.

"Now that I've come back to the faith and I'll be managing the church shop, do you think I could have a title?" asked Peter.

Father Mike looked confused. Peter, at best, was a part time helper who still had a lot of grace to earn. He certainly had no confirmed ticket to Heaven, as Mr. Linford did because he had hung around St. Vincent di Paul's for years. In terms of earning Sanctifying Grace Peter was an infant, and one who had put down requests from Jesus for years. You can't buy grace with a couple of dozen cleanskins. In fact, at his age, Peter's best chance of turning things around was to become a martyr - the best kind of saint.

"Have you ever thought of becoming Saint Peter of Whangarei Heads?" Father Mike Oxbig asked.

Peter wasn't listening. He was thinking about trying to get more wafers. God knew what he was thinking and was not impressed.