There is a theory that each man and woman has a personal Hell waiting for them. No, not the checkout line at Starbucks. I mean after we die, sillies. A Hell comprised of our worst fears. Surely then, my hell would include:
Environment of Hell:
- All the inhabitants of Hell are clowns. They are all named Biff. Each one pronounces “Biff” differently and takes great offense should you mispronounce it.
- Everything is painted puce. There are old, buzzing neon Bud Light signs covering every wall.
- There are no outdoors. Hell is one enormous indoor mall populated with screaming toddlers who break things and are badly in need of a diaper refresh.
- The only pets you can own are untrainable Yorkies with bladder control issues. Everyone must own twenty of them. They never sleep.
- There are plenty of hair salons because your hair grows 13″ a day in Hell. The hair stylists are only capable of creating mullets and the shampoo smells like garlic toast and wet dog fur.
Entertainment in Hell:
- Clowns follow you everywhere and sing Celine Dion to a karaoke machine the size of Kansas.
- There is only one television station and it only runs televangelists (who are the true rulers of Hell).
- At random intervals each day, the clowns break out in song (and lesions). Their favorites include Kumbaya, Come Sail Away and Skinnamarink.
Eating in Hell:
- You are force-fed cereal every morning at 4am. It’s Grape-Nuts. Grape Nuts with spiders.
- Lunch is the same every day: Slug-Kabobs with prune-ade.
- You get Girl Scout cookies in Hell, not that you’d want them. The only flavor they have is Thin Flints.
- The catsup tastes like metal and milk all comes from stoats.
- On your birthday, you get a giant cake. Obese stripper clowns pop out of it and ruin your day.
*cries* I’ll be good, I promise.
😯 Mommy.
“untrainable Yorkies with bladder control issues” are called one thing…Yorkies.
Geezez Dave, that not only sounds like hell, but would probably make a good film.
I dunno, Dave … I grew up in Flint, Michigan. Can’t be much worse than THAT!
Are you kiddin’ me? That sounds more like Heaven!
Sincerely,
Ronald McDonald
CEO, McDonald’s
I see you got the tour of my workplace.
He, Biff is NOT a clown, Biff is a friendly purple bear!!
(You should read up on your Mac Davis texts).
I gotta quit visiting before I go to bed.
Here are a few more interesting Hell facts to make your stay more enjoyable…
Shopping in Hell
Hell has an extensive variety of shops, which unfortunately all sell cat litter and spinach. The cat litter is made of crushed goldfish bones and the spinach is farmed almost exclusively from the fertile backs of hairy men.
You are required to eat at least 5 portions of both every 2-4 hours or face the corner.
Travel in Hell
Everyone in Hell is given a vehicle upon arrival.
It’s a rusty unicycle with a wheel made from a large round cheese. You are forced to ride it at manic speed to avoid capture by a giant mouse in a pirate costume called Pentonville Fandango.
All roads have speed bumps every 10 yards.
The unicycle also has no saddle.
SEX in Hell
There are lots and lots of attractive women and men in Hell and they have sex all the time….but not with you.
The only person in Hell that would, is the one legged transvestite with STDs and flatulence you share a room with.
He also smells of liver pate and sour milk.
Enjoy your stay!
👿
Oh, here are a few more hell tips for the damned among you.
Weather in Hell:
In Hell it is either very hot, very cold or both at the same time.
Sometimes it rains rotten eggs and flour, sometimes it’s just house bricks and muesli.
I would recommend watching the weather forecast, but there isn’t one.
In fact the only thing on T.V is some never ending footage of a baked potato in a microwave or Jerry Springer’s left eye. The baked potato channel still has the highest viewing figures despite the Jerry Springer’s left eye Christmas special where it opened and closed briefly.
Blogsites in Hell:
There are NO computers in Hell, only un-programmable video recorders in a Betamax format.
NOTE: All tapes supplied are VHS and contain dried pasta instead of tape (except on Tuesdays when they contain fish).
Hope this information is useful, but then you do have eternity to learn the ropes.
👿
Celebrities in Hell:
All famous people go to Hell apart from Ghandi and John Travolta.
Princess Diana nearly escaped as well, but on closer inspection it was discovered that her “halo†was in fact the steering wheel of a Mercedes car.
Britney Spears is still untalented in Hell and has more spots, smaller boobs and a bigger ego.
P.S
Oh and she’s dating your one legged room mate.
👿
re: Environment numbers 1-3, I believe that’s called Chuck E. Cheese.
hey, what if you happen to like obese strippers!? um… not that I do…
sounds exactly like mine … except that in my hell, the floor is a writhing mass of roaches. *shudder*
So if I’m living in my own personal hell currently, what’s my real hell going to be like?
The ReV. forgot to mention Canadians.
On a completely unrelated note, Dave, in Netscape 7.1 (which I have to use at work), the page loads fine, but I have to scroll down almost an entire page of empty space, before getting to the post.
Back to your regularly scheduled hell speak.
dont forget people buying a hundred dollars worth of lottery tickets in front of you every time you go in to buy a water.
Or buying a money order when you go in to buy a lottery ticket.
Or a western union order.
define obese….
Yes, I am working on that, Esther. It also happens in Mozilla 1.4, but not 1.7. Urgh.
Okey dokey. Anybody for a cinnamon swirl Pecan Sandie? 👿
Oops, meant this: :green:
Hell is having to talk to a treefrog as your best friend
because the abyss is silent and empty and twilight for centuries.
You can’t leave the minimal frog, one bare tree, and treefrog,
because if you do, you’ll never find your way back there, you’ll
just walk on dark nothingness forever, so you stay, listening
to one droning frog that reverberates the same tone of flatulence.
The only human words the reptile can speaks is “Anne Frank.”
The green of this frog is a mildewy tennis ball green. It carries the
scent of asbestos and an airport ashtray. The frog’s face resembles
the one person you regret having had sex with. The pond is clear
and empty, and reflects twilight and nothingness.
After a trillion centuries, you met Samuel Beckett. You know this
is hell because he’s happy and smiling. Mr. Beckett tells ethnic jokes
and monopolizes the conversation. Then one day, on a whim, he kills the
treefrog.
He just slapped it between his armpit and squeezed. Hard was the squeeze.
Then Mr. Beckett a week later vanishes, a slow evaporation, like a rain cloud.
It’s just you and the pond and one tadpole that grows back into the Frog.
Hell is also
uncalled for
line breaks.
Schools in Hell:
Teach students words like irregardless and definately.
Banks in Hell:
Give out cards with your PIN number to use their ATM machines.
On the anniversary of your hell entry they play a non-stop airing of the most loathsome local commercials in your life–then shower you with confetti made from boogers and clown vomit.
Depends commercials play on subliminal tapes whenever you try to sleep.
I hope I go to hell, it sounds fun 😉
3281 ya know eredclips