My Writing
The Five People You Meet In Hell
Someone famous once said: “God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.” As such, after my last article came out, God decided to embrace the humor and not strike me dead. And, being the Almighty, He simply changed some of the text on the copy I sent Him. Unbeknownst to Him, I had already sent a copy to Mary. Oops.
So, after the success of a certain book, I decided that I would like to know the Five People You Meet in Hell. After obtaining a temporary death pass, I went down to have a look around and find out for myself.
“We’ve set this up sort of like one of those old game shows,” Satan said as he led me over to a set of five doors. “And, behind door number one!”
The door swung open. “Pat, the high-school bully!”
“Word!” he said. “Yo, remember that time when I made you wear my little sister’s pink panties and run around the gym in them?”
“Yeah, I remember,” I said, gruffly. “I actually got more dates after that than anything.” I elbowed Satan in the side. “Am I right?”
He just glared at me. “Behind door number two!”
The door swung open. “Andy, the boy you ‘experimented’ with your first year of college!”
I gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“Yeah, you killed me with that last thrust,” he said. “And, by the way, since you insisted on not wearing a condom, I have a surprise for you.”
He started to bring out a baby carriage, but the door swung shut.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” I said.
“Just wait, there’s more!” Satan said. “Behind door number three!”
The door swung open. “Mrs. Avery, your ninety-year-old, overweight, 10th grade Social Studies teacher!”
“You killed me with that last thrust,” she said before I could even respond, a little drool dripping down her chin. “And, by the way, since you insisted on not wearing a condom, I have a little surprise for you.”
She started to pull out a carriage and the door slammed shut.
“It gets better!” Satan assured me after seeing the look on my face. “Behind door number four!”
The door swung open. “Your—”
“Pastor Tom!” I cried.
“Hello, Kyle,” he said, a grin playing across his face.
I slammed the door shut before he could say anything else. “Next?”
“And, behind door number five!”
The door swung open. Standing there, behind a kitchen counter, was a middle-aged woman with blond hair.
“Martha?” I said.
“No,” she said, looking up at me and smiling, “I’m Dartha, Martha’s equally as annoying, slightly more bitchy, less talented sister.”
“But, what—”
“I asked for a Dom. de la Romanee Conti 2001 Romanee St. Vivant Grand Cru, not a Ch. Duffau Lagarrosse 2000 Beausejour St Emilion! Don’t you ingrates have any taste?!” she shrieked to someone. “Sorry, what was that, dear?”
“What are you doing here? Did I somehow kill you, too?”
“Oh, no,” she laughed. “I’m here in everybody’s lineup. It should really be called the Four People You Meet in Hell and Dartha Stewart!”
Interesting. And so ended my time in Hell and, having seen all those people face-to-face again, I could not wait to get the hell out of there.