Listen: I used to be the admissions director at a fine arts university. I didn’t bother quitting. I died instead. The best part is that I’m in hell.
Hell isn’t as torturous as the Puritan, Vincent, cracked it up to be. There isn’t a single spark of fire or brimstone. Imagine being very bored with an irritating drone running in the back of your mind… forever.
I came to hell on my own free will. It wasn’t because I was homosexual, a particular religion or even that I occasionally injured my fellow man. I was incredibly indifferent. All of this was explained in the devil’s pamphlet.
The devil was amiable. I asked “Why are demons just lying around, and not tempting humans?” He laughed. Imagine laughing in hell. He told me, “Humans don’t need any help leading each other down here.”
The devil introduced me to a beautiful woman. She told me, “In grade school, you and your friends would tease me. You would chase me around and call me fat.” She apparently lost weight on her way down.
She continued, “I became so self-conscious about my weight, that soon, I could only concentrate on myself. My obsession with my appearance ruined every relationship I ever had.” She slapped me, 70 years after grade school.
The woman introduced me to a friend from college. It turns out I gave him his first drink. He became an alcoholic after that. “You went to Hell for drinking?” I asked. “No, but it didn’t help.” My old classmate punched me in the arm as though to say, “Welcome to the club.”
My friend took me over to an older woman, my mother. She slapped me. “You were always a disappointment.” I studied drama instead of business, which she still begrudges me. She continued, “And now look, you’re in Hell. What would your father say?” I shrugged. Maybe I’d meet him next and find out. She slapped me again and directed me to my wife.
I didn’t love my wife. I didn’t love my wife so much, she killed herself. I spoke first, “I couldn’t really control not loving you.” She sighed, “But you didn’t have to marry me. You could have let me marry someone who would have loved me, rather than using me to protect your image.”
Then she walked away, leaving me wishing to get slapped. Oh, well, I thought. They all wound up here of their own free will, and at the very least, they didn’t hurt anyone else on the way down.
After that, I wandered around for awhile, before running into a bratty little kid. He was spinning a top, or something, when he looked up at me and said, “I applied to your school when I was young, and you told me I couldn’t cut it as a painter.” I said I denied countless people from my school . I asked him what his name was, and then he laughed. Imagine laughing in Hell.