(Disclaimer, this is a work of fiction not my actual memoirs)

Okay, so here’s a story from my life. Oh, I know you’re not interested, so I’ll just skip to the good bit. The day I died. I’m sure that makes you happy. I know you’re thinking, “Hey, how is he telling us the story if he’s dead?” I’ll get to that, I’m building intrigue. Really my death is only the beginning of the story. It was May when I died. A pretty dull month. A little back ground information on myself, don’t worry I’ll use cliff notes. I didn’t have a great childhood, got into trouble a lot and never took studying seriously.

It was all April Wilson’s fault; she was this girl I liked ever since I started liking girls. So I would always behave like an asshole just to get her attention. I remember when I was fifteen, I stole this shitty Fiat Punto. This cop recognized me in it and started blasting the sirens. I punched it down the streets as fast as I could and hit the rear of another car. And you know what my first thought was? It wasn’t “Oh, my God! I just stole a car and ran from the police, it’ll be on my record forever!” No. I thought “I wonder if April is gonna hear about this, what is she gonna think?”

Fortunately April was a smart girl, she stayed well away from me. She went on to work in marketing, married a closet homo working in PR. Me I set my heights sky high, tried to make something of myself and then came crashing down to reality. There’s a food chain for humans and guys like me are at the bottom of it.

FREDDIE: Walt, could you clean the ceiling?

WALT: The ceiling? That’s like twenty feet high? No one looks up at the ceiling can’t we just leave it?

FREDDIE: I can see the dust floating through the air every time I switch on the lights.

WALT: How am I supposed to even get up that high? I’m the bar tender this isn’t part of my job.

FREDDIE: You’re job is whatever I say it is. Stop being insubordinate and clean the ceiling. I want you to be able to eat off of it.

That’s my boss Freddie, he’s fat and has a lazy eye. I’m not trying to be discriminatory, I’m just addressing key characteristics pertaining to the relevant persons. He thinks it’s possible to eat off of the ceiling, he knows gravity exists but he never takes any logic or reasoning into consideration. It’s like he was made in a lab to be the perfect general manager.

I know what you’re thinking; that I died trying to clean the ceiling. Nope. If I had died there, then I wouldn’t have mind. So why was that bit relevant? Wait. I’m setting things up. If you’re reading this you clearly have nothing better to do. So what harm is an extra paragraph.

On to the night I died, I came home to my piece of shit studio apartment, drank a bottle of rum and then tried my hand at the foreign exchange market. After that it’s all pretty much blank. Sorry, but I honestly don’t remember what happened after my shares in the euro sky dived. God damn euro. The next thing I remember is waking up in a queue.

WALT: What the fuck?

I’ll describe the place as best I can. I’m not a writer but I’ll try to use all those techniques they teach you in school. So it was a very big place, and like the ceiling was very high. Urm… People every where. And endless seas of queues. It was an airport, now that I think about it, it was definitely an airport.

WALT: Hey buddy.


WALT: Are we in an airport?

STRANGER: No. I mean, I don’t think we are. I was in a hospital before I got here.

WALT: So you don’t know how you got here either?


WALT: Then why are you waiting in the queue?

STRANGER: Cause I don’t want to loose my place in line, I’m almost at the front.

The guy had a point, if I moved from my place God knows when I’d get this close to the end again. So I waited, asking the people around me how they got here. The guy behind me said he was last sitting in a shopping cart at the bottom of a lake, one lady remembers taking a selfie while driving in her car.

STRANGER: It’s me next.

WALT: Great. Ask them what the fuck is going on.

The guy stepped forward. It didn’t occur to me until just then but the guy was wearing one of those medical gowns. You know the ones with the ass hanging out.


CHECK IN LADY: Hello sir, may I please have your name?

STRANGER: Gregory Regan.

CHECK IN LADY: Good news sir, you’re flight will now be boarding. Please step through the gate of the left.

STRANGER: I’m sorry, but where am I?

CHECK IN LADY: You’re at check in.

STRANGER: Yes, but to where?

CHECK IN LADY: Step through the gate and you’ll see.

Old Gregory glanced back at me, he gave a whimper and shrugged his shoulders before blindly stepping through the gate. I stepped forward.

WALT: Hey, could you please tell me what I’m doing here? More importantly how I got here?

CHECK IN LADY: Well you’re here to check in for your flight.

WALT: Flight to where?

CHECK IN LADY: Give me your name and I can see.

WALT: Walter Scott.

CHECK IN LADY: Let’s see… Walter Scott. Here you are. Everything seems to check out and your flight will now begin boarding.

WALT: Where to?

CHECK IN LADY: We’re not allowed to spoil the surprise.

WALT: And what if I don’t want to get on the plane?

CHECK IN LADY: You’re welcome to wait in the terminal as long as you like. Please be aware that the terminal doesn’t include any duty free stores or restaurants.

WALT: Well, how do I leave the terminal?

CHECK IN LADY: You board the plane.

WALT: I already told you I don’t want to board the plane.

CHECK IN LADY: And I told you, you’re welcome to wait in the terminal.

WALT: Lady I want to go home.

CHECK IN LADY: Oh, dear. You haven’t realized have you?

WALT: Realized what?

CHECK IN LADY: Come on Walter. You must have some kind of inclination of what’s going on.

I felt something in the pit of my stomach. You know that sharp pain you try to get through. Or that fart you try to push back. The mind will do all sorts of gymnastics in order to preserve our ignorant bliss. But the body knows when there’s something wrong.

WALT: Am I… am I dead?

CHECK IN LADY: Yes, Walter. I’m sorry.

My death must have taken place at some point around the time I was watching the Forex. I wouldn’t have known I died, unless I was conscious during my final moments. How I died was anyone’s guess. But when I said the words…

WALT: I’m dead.

I felt a cold wave wash over my body. Was it even a body, it was most likely my spirit but you understand. The moment I said I was dead it became true.

WALT: It’s over.

CHECK IN LADY: Yes. I’m afraid it is.

WALT: It’s over. I’m done. It’s FINALLY OVER! IT’S OVER!

Words couldn’t describe the euphoria I felt when I realized “Walt, you don’t have to live anymore. No more work, no more rent, bills, taxes, arrests, suffering and best of all no more bosses!” It was well and truly the happiest moment of my life.

CHECK IN LADY: You’re taking this really well Walter.

WALT: Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?

CHECK IN LADY: Well, I’m pleased to see you happy.

WALT: What do I do now?

CHECK IN LADY: You see the gate on the right, just head on through.

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I practically skipped through that gate. In my head I connected the dots as best as I could. So the terminal was purgatory, which meant the plane I was bouncing on to was headed for paradise.

AIR HOST: Welcome on board Mr. Scott.

WALT: Hello.

AIR HOST: Please take your seat sir.

When the guy directed me to the business class seat I cackled out loud. Of course this was happening, it was God’s way of saying “Sorry for putting you through all that shit on Earth Walt.”

WALT: Whoa, I’m the first one on board.

AIR HOST: Actually, this flight is just for you.

WALT: Just me? A whole plane to myself?

AIR HOST: Of course. We don’t share flights here.

WALT: I’ve died and gone to heaven.

The guy chuckled at that, I could tell he had a real sense of humour. When it came to the take off the whole process was so smooth my ears didn’t even pop.

AIR HOST: Mr. Scott, I think you’d enjoy the in flight entertainment.

WALT: Awesome, let’s see here.

The air host dimmed the lights as I switched on the fifty inch monitor before me. On screen were images of myself as a child. Pictures I had never even seen before.

VOICE OVER: Walter Scott.

WALT: Oh, personalized message. I like it.

VOICE OVER: You’re judgement is at hand.

WALT: That’s kinda ominous.

The screen displayed an image of me at around age nine to ten.

VOICE OVER: In May 1997 you stole you The Last of the Mohicans on laser disc.

WALT: And I’d do it again, the picture on laser disc was just sublime. Wait how do you know this?

VOICE OVER: In July 1997 you recorded Men in Black on a handheld camcorder.

WALT: I’m not sure if that’s a sin or a win.

VOICE OVER: January 1998 you bit Melissa Berry in an attempt to turn her into a werewolf.

WALT: What?! Come on I was kid. Are you gonna bring up each and every single mistake I’ve made?

VOICE OVER: February 1997-

Yes, they went through every single wrongful act I ever committed. Some of which I didn’t even know were considered sins like watching TruTV. I honestly can’t say how long the “trial” went on for, but when I glanced over to the air host he was… well he was fucked. His skin had peeled away revealing the intricate muscles and veins that make up the face. Where is eyes should be were just small mouths with rows of shark like teeth. His tongue (the one in the main mouth) draped around the neck like a scarf.

WALT: Holy shit! Are you okay man?!

AIR HOST: Pay attention! Two voices came out of the slits in his mouths/eyes.

WALT: What the fuck are you?

VOICE OVER: Why are you looking over at him?

WALT: How could I not, he looks like a fucking demon-oh shit.

I had just figured it out. Really it was embarrassing it had taken me so long. The chuckle at the heaven comment, the never ending list of charges held against me; and most obvious of all the fact that I’m me. There was never a chance of me getting into heaven.

WALT: I’m going to Hell aren’t I?

AIR HOST: Come on Walt. The plane’s literally been in a downward spiral since we took off.

I’m the type of guy to admit his faults. I can at the very least say that’s something admirable about me. So I had almost instantaneously come to terms with descending into Hell.

WALT: There’s a chance I’m still in my home dreaming all this.

AIR HOST: No. This definitely isn’t a dream.

WALT: God damn it.

VOICE OVER: Come on Walter. Don’t feel bad. This is just a hazing.

AIR HOST: Yeah, this just how we welcome people. Hell isn’t as bad as you think.

WALT: Really?

AIR HOST: No. It’s so much worse! Hahaha!

VOICE OVER: September 2004 you stole an article of clothing from April Wilson.

WALT: It was just a bra.

VOICE OVER: December 2004 you stole three panties, four bras, a silk blouse, cut off shorts and her left sock.

AIR HOST: What were you doing with all that?

WALT: I was trying to build my own April.

AIR HOST: Ha! That is sad.

VOICE OVER: Don’t worry it gets worse. In April 2005 he stole her dog so that he could pretend to find it and impress her. But he kept the dog tied to a railway yard, it got free and ran in front of a train. By the time he brought April to the spot, the dog had turned to soup. She had to see a councilor for six weeks.

AIR HOST: Oh my god! Walt you’re genius. And by genius I mean you’re a fucking nincompoop.

WALT: Really? Is this what Hell is? A demon that looks like the inside of a rectum, and a gay disembodied voice mocking me for every single decision I’ve made!

VOICE OVER: How dare you take that indignant tone with us Walter. You’re the one on trial here.

WALT: Trail? I thought this was a hazing?

AIR HOST: They’re the same thing in Hell.

WALT: Again, it sounds like the decision for me to go to Hell has already been made so not much point in any of this.

VOICE OVER: Oh, but Walter we haven’t even gotten to the best part. Your greatest sin. Your deep dark dirty little secret.

At that point I knew these guy weren’t joking around. Everything they had brought up was pin point accurate, they could recall the events even better than me. So when they spoke of my secret, my mind started running in every direction; looking for an escape. I first tried denial, but they reminded me of the exact time and place this shameful act took place. Next I tried bargaining, then begging. But they wouldn’t compromise. In fact in retrospect the more I pleaded and groveled the more they savored it.

WALT: Please, don’t say it!

VOICE OVER: But I must, Walter. You must hear the charge of your most debaucherous  sin. Incestuous fornication between you and your first cousin Emma Redford.

AIR HOST: God damn Walt! You’re a sick man.

WALT: I didn’t even know we were related.

VOICE OVER: You used to bathe together as kids.

WALT: We were both wasted.

VOICE OVER: Yes. The first time.

AIR HOST: Did you know it’s legal to marry your cousin throughout Canada? To bad we ain’t flying there.

VOICE OVER: Apart of him isn’t even ashamed.

AIR HOST: You’re gonna fit in great here. Come on Jaime Lannister, we’ve reached our destination.

So they opened the doors to Hell and you know what I saw. A runway, others jets, guys fueling those jets. Wow, I’m really bad at description but the reason it’s so dull is because that’s what Hell is. You’ve seen it everyday, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. The sky’s are in a perpetual state of either sunset or sunrise. Waiting for me at the foot of the plane’s stairs was a stumpy round old guy, wearing a velvet suit, horn rimmed glasses and the worst toupee a lack of money can buy.

LOUIE: Welcome to Hell bitch!

WALT: What the fuck are you?

LOUIE: I’m Louie, I’ll be you’re tour guide through out this wonderful plane of existence.

WALT: Great can we start with the exit?

LOUIE: Kid, first impressions are everything. Am I rubbing you the wrong way or something?

WALT: I’ve just literally got off the flight from Hell, and I’m greeted with “welcome to Hell bitch!” By a troll in a wig. How else am I meant to take that?

LOUIE: Oh, well, I apologize for that. Here have a muffin.

Louie digs his left hand into his pocket and pulls out this squashed black muffin. He practically shoves it in my face.

LOUIE: Come on it’s chocolate.

I reluctantly take it form his grubby little paws.

LOUIE: Come try it.

To my surprise or relief it was actually pretty good. But the part that followed the muffin was just the opposite. Louie flung his fist in to my ball sack so hard my knees buckled and I crashed to the floor.

WALT: Why?!

As I cried the muffin slipped from my grasp, and on to the cold gravely ground. Louie let out this snort of a laugh as he stomped upon the chocolate muffin.

LOUIE: Like I said welcome to Hell bitch!

I don’t know how one can accurately describe Louie. He’s as mad as they come and worse yet he receives payment in the form of other people’s misery and suffering. He gave me that muffin just so that he could take it away. Like it or not he was my only real friend here, so I had to listen to what he had to say; even if a lot of it revolved around crackers.

LOUIE: I like the black pepper corn ones. But they never come in the tins. It’s always the shitty wafer thin cheese crackers.

We walked through the streets of Hell. There were no demons raining fire upon us. The buildings looked no different to those that we have on earth now. The only real form of torture was trying to cross the road.

WALT: Louie, I gotta be honest; Hell isn’t exactly how I imagined it would be.

LOUIE: That’s cause you got films, the bible and crazy people depicting it all wrong. They ain’t ever been here so how can they possibly know what goes on here. It’s like the movie Tron, that’s a cool looking place; doesn’t mean the internet is exactly like that.

WALT: So what’s the big deal about this place, I thought I was meant to spend all of eternity here; being cut to pieces and shit. So far all I’ve had is a muffin and a kick in the nuts.

LOUIE: See the thing here is, we could cut you into pieces but then after awhile there would be nothing left. And you know some people get off on that sort of stuff. Our purpose isn’t to meet the people’s expectations, it’s to punish them. Now think about it, what’s the worst form of punishment you can inflict upon the immortal soul?

WALT: I don’t know Munford and Sons.

LOUIE: No. Just the exact same thing as what they had before.

WALT: Wait. What?

LOUIE: You lived life expecting something different at the end of it. Whether it’s good or bad, it’s something different. You’ve moved on. We can’t have that. So when you die, instead of heading into the great unknown and discovering a new world; you just end up in the exact same place.

Louie laughed so hard his breathing stopped for almost a minute.

WALT: Wait so everything is the same?

LOUIE: Yep, you gotta go to work to pay rent, taxes, bills, and all that shit.

WALT: No! Oh god no!

LOUIE: This is the best bit, eighty percent of your wages goes to taxes! Hahaha! Taxes! We don’t even spend it on anything, look at the state of the place.

Hell was as overcrowded as a shopping centre on Christmas eve, but from what I could see of the floor it was completely lined in litter.

LOUIE: Then another ten percent gets taken from you to go in your pension. But this is the thing nobody ages, they’re never gonna see it.

WALT: Why? Where is all this money sitting? Are you telling me there’s a vault filled with euros or whatever the fuck you’re using down here?

LOUIE: No, it’s all in Bit Coins; no one touches it psychically. Our Economy is a mess. Which just makes things harder for everyone else!

WALT: This is well and truly Hell.

LOUIE: Let me show you your place.

Louie then performed a miracle, he actually found a place shitter than where I live before. I couldn’t tell if the walls were black or if that was just the mould spreading. The whole bathroom from the tiles to the toilet was off white/piss and shit white. The bed or couch was just an assembled pile of trash bags.

WALT: I’m supposed to live here?


WALT: How am I supposed to afford it I don’t have any Bit Coins?

LOUIE: That’s okay, I’ll give you a loan.

WALT: No! No loans!

LOUIE: Oh, but you have to. And then after you’re done paying off this loan, you gotta move out into a bigger place and get a bigger loan. And then once you’ve paid that off, you gotta get an even bigger loan to move again and again and again! Hahaha!

WALT: You piece of trash! Really?!

Louie started shuffling about, I think it was some kind of victory dance. I tore the door off one of the cabinets and was, (for the first time since I learned that I died) elated to find a bottle of whiskey. No need for a glass, I began drinking it neat from the bottle.

LOUIE: Yo, pass me some of that.

WALT: No go get you’re own bottle bitch.

LOUIE: Hey, come on. Don’t be an asshole.

WALT: Ha, the Devil himself is calling me an asshole.

LOUIE: How did you figure it out?

WALT: Come on bitch. Louie? You thought no one was gonna make the connection to Lucifer?

LOUIE: They usually don’t.

WALT: Now come on show me your true form.

LOUIE: What?

WALT: Your true form, show it to me.

WALT: The guy on the plane turned in to some kind of anal cavity, so you must have some kind of a… more imposing look.

LOUIE: What’s wrong with the way I look?

WALT: You’re five foot none and you wear a dead animal on your head. You look like a waiter at some kind of restaurant for goblins.

LOUIE: Hey, I might be the Devil but I’ve got feelings too. You can’t say these kinda things without taking other people’s feelings into consideration.

WALT: No, I wanted to hurt your feelings.

I tossed Louie the bottle before jumping out of the window to my left. I had hoped that the height of the drop would be enough to split me apart like a watermelon; thus killing me instantaneously.

LOUIE :Walt! Hang on kid I’m coming down.

Unfortunately I was all in one piece. I was definitely high enough to die from that, but I landed with nothing more than a scratch. Louie came hobbling over to me.

LOUIE: What happened? How did you fall out the window?

WALT: I didn’t fall, I jumped. I was trying to kill myself.

LOUIE: What?! Are you retarded? You can’t die twice, your soul is immortal.

WALT: Shit!

LOUIE: You crazy bastard, come on lets go upstairs; there’s still some whiskey. I gotta show you our T.V Down here.

The Devil and I proceeded to watch T.V, and would you believe it; every single channel was nothing but adverts. Except for one, TruTV which is apparently the most popular channel down here. There was drink, of that Louie made sure. Due to the wretched economic state of Hell, prices suffered from constant inflation; except for liquor. They managed to keep the rates fixed on that. As we agitated the neighbourhood with the blasting of sweet 80’s era music, Louie gave me a lesson on how food works around here. So being dead means you don’t have to eat any more, but you still feel the need to eat; the starvation. Although redundant, you can either choose to eat and satisfy your hunger; or suffer through the agony of hunger and save some money. Because Hell is so expensive most choose to just go hungry, but even if you wanted to eat; the only foods available comes from greasy pizza delivery joints. Despite his desire to see all beings within his charge suffer eternally, Louie made for good company. The next morning I awoke on the concrete pavement beneath my open window, Louie stood over me eating a pizza.

LOUIE: You know I’d hate to punish you till the end of time, cause I mean you’re a lot of fun.

Louie continued to chomp away at the pizza has he spoke to me.

WALT: Then don’t. Leave me be, send me back to earth or get me into heaven.

LOUIE: Why should I? Do you think you deserve it?

WALT: Well I deserve something? This can’t be all there is?

LOUIE: See guys like you Walt, you think the world owes you something; because you suffered through it. Well I got news for you my friend, lots of people suffer through it too. At the end of the day you’re nothing, collectively the lot of you add up to nothing. So why would life give you anything. You’re not the son of someone special, you’ve never been in the right place at the right time. What were you expecting? Dig deep down and you know the truth. You gotta take what you’re owed, it ain’t nobodies duty but your own.

WALT: I tried! I tried Louie… And I failed.

LOUIE: Do you know why you failed?

WALT: Cause I wasn’t good enough.

LOUIE: No. You failed because you gave up. You let your circumstances beat you. I know it might seem like I’ve got a grudge against humanity, but I’ve seen what the human spirit can do. It ain’t easy being happy, that’s why so few people are. You had potential kid, but you never realized it. Now you’re gonna spend the rest of time regretting it.

Louie turned his back and walked down the street after that. I never thought the Devil would be my life coach. I myself felt like I had a layer of skin stripped away, as cheesy as that sounds it’s the only accurate description I can think of. He was right about everything, I had always been afraid to even think this stuff aloud in my head. Why? Because if I acknowledged it, it became real. In life I was crippled by fear, and in death I will become riddled with remorse.

I don’t know if this is something to be proud of or not, but I adapted to life in Hell pretty fast. Down here we have jobs to do, and it’s not a nine to five deal like on the surface. Because souls don’t need to sleep we can go about working for days straight. I worked as a street sweeper, and hand on my heart its was the best job I ever had at the time. Why? Because Hell is fucked, there’s no way to clean it. You see that’s the punishment forever cleaning up after others. At least that’s what you’re meant to do. Me I just walked about drinking malt whiskey the whole time. My purpose is redundant, therefor there was no need for me to even bother. No one checks up on me, my boss had to micro manage the sanitation of an entire city. And if he did ever catch me slacking on the job, what was he gonna do? I’m already in Hell.

You could say I beat the system, and in a weird way I was almost proud of where I was in life… afterlife. But I wouldn’t be left alone to my own devices for long. I was watching a guy try to order something other than pizza at a diner. I think he was after a curry or something, the chef tried to oblige him. But the rules of Hell prevent anything other than pizza being served, so instead the chef used a pizza base with curry paste as the tomato. Real creatively comes from restraint and circumstance. Thankfully alcohol down here was pretty the same as upstairs. My somewhat pleasant afternoon was brought to an abrupt halt, when a hobbling troll came up to me.

LOUIE: Yo! Walt. See you’re working hard.

WALT: Hey Louie, you caught me in the middle of my break.

LOUIE: We don’t have breaks down here.

WALT: Really? I guess I didn’t give a shit.

LOUIE: You don’t look like you’re suffering much.

WALT: Are you crazy Louie, I’m in constant agonizing pain. Between the endless trash and the constant reruns of Hardcore Pawn, I think I might be in Hell.

LOUIE: Really? That’s good to hear.

WALT: Are you serious?

LOUIE: What do you mean?

WALT: Louie, I love Hardcore Pawn; and this is the best job I ever had. I literally get paid to do nothing. This might not be heaven but it’s better than life.

LOUIE: Why ain’t you doing your job properly?

WALT: Oh, I did at first. But then the trash just kept coming back.

LOUIE: Yeah, that’s the idea. It must have driven you up the wall.

WALT: Not really. I stopped after I figured out my job; much like the rest of my life is completely pointless.

LOUIE: What?! That’s not how it’s supposed to work. God damn it. Why you gotta be so nihilistic. Don’t cha know the way you behave has an impact on those around you? Now I’m starting to feel like you.

WALT: Good. Sit down, let’s drink some whiskey and get fucked up.

LOUIE: Fine. Scoot over. Pass me the bottle.

WALT: No. I already told you get your own god damn bottle.

LOUIE: Come on, don’t be a shit bag.

As we drank Louie became more and more candid. He confessed to me how unsatisfied he was with the current state of Hell. Unsurprisingly more and more people were… well, just getting used to it.

WALT: You know why you have trouble with guys like me? Because life upstairs wasn’t too great for us, we just treat this as familiar ground. Sure you took all the bad that we knew and bumped it up to twelve, but you were honest about it. You didn’t pretend like we could have a better shot if we just obeyed the system.

LOUIE: So you’re saying the people are just accepting it and getting on with it?

WALT: Louie, this is just what people do; they adapt.

LOUIE: But this is Hell! They ought to be regretting all their mistakes. I tell you Walt, back in the day I’d walk five blocks and hear cries from men, women and children all throughout.

WALT: I’ll tell you what man, you gotta change it up. First of all who’s coming up with all this punishments?

LOUIE: I am. I gotta, I’m the Devil.

WALT: Okay, see I know you mean well Louie; But I can tell from talking and… Looking at you, you’re just not at all right in the head.

LOUIE: What?

WALT: You eat with your mouth open. You keep confusing John McClane with John McCain.

LOUIE: Come on it’s almost the same name.

WALT: You’re saying that now after I told you they were two people. Half an hour ago you thought they were one man; who both killed a skyscraper full of terrorists, and then went on to run for president. I just saw you throw your shoe at a pigeon, and then you threw that very pigeon at a woman who was just walking by.

LOUIE: Okay, I’m getting old. What do you want form me?

WALT: Look, don’t worry about it man. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You ever heard of a McJob?

LOUIE: That like a hand job from a clown or something?

WALT: No. It’s an unstimulating, low-paid job with few prospects, especially one created by the expansion of the service sector.

LOUIE: That sounds prefect.

WALT: I’ve worked in McDonald’s and let me tell you something, They made this place look like Canada.

LOUIE: What does Canada have to do with anything? This cause you want marry your cousin?

WALT: What the fuck? How do you know about Emma?

LOUIE: Come on we all know, it’s not a big deal. I’ve seen your cousin I want to bang her too.

WALT: Can we get back to talking about building a McDonald’s?

LOUIE: Okay, but we can’t call it McDonald’s.

WALT: Why not?

LOUIE: Cause of copy right, I don’t wanna get sued.

WALT: Copy right? Do you know how ridiculous you sound? I thought this was supposed to be Hell.

LOUIE: Yeah, where do you think all the lawyers go?

WALT: God damn it. The name isn’t important. Who’s gonna work the McJob is.


WALT: Well, Louie I thought that was obvious.

Imagine a Pig trough. Only instead of being outside, it had four ugly walls and a panel roof. And instead of a group of pigs squeezing their snouts past one other, its a sea of immortal disappointments screaming their orders. And receiving the brunt of those demands are the proud staff of the recently opened McDonald-Trump. This day in particular was an important day, the Devil himself was coming down to inspect the work place.

WALT: Louie come right this way. I want to introduce you to the staff. This bitch right here is Aaron Treblor. Tell the Devil what you used to do Aaron.

AARON: When I was alive I was the CEO of McDonald’s from 1978 – 1991.

WALT: And what was your sin?

AARON: I knew the paint in our Short Circuit 2 happy meal toys was poisonous, but went ahead and sold them anyway.

WALT: forty eight kids were hospitalized. two of them died.

LOUIE: Yikes, this guy’s a real piece of dog shit.

WALT: That’s nothing meet the guy over by the fry station. Hey bitch, tell us who you are?

MARTIN: I’m Martin Collins, I was an executive at the marketing firm that worked on all of McDonald’s ad campaigns during the 90’s.

WALT: And?

MARTIN: I aggressively focused all our campaigns at children. I caused a national spike in child obesity.

WALT: No one gives a shit. Tell us how you killed your wife when she found out you liked little boys.

MARTIN: I killed my wife when she found out I liked little boys.

WALT: Thank you. Now give us some fries bitch.

See I didn’t allow any utensils in the kitchen. McDonald-Trump prides itself on it’s handmade food. So that means no metal cage to lift out the fries from the deep fat fryer. Martin dipped his hand into the bubbling vat and pulled out a handful of fries. The soul may be immortal but that doesn’t mean the agonizing pain goes away.

MARTIN: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOUIE: That’s it! That’s the sound I’ve been missing all these years! That’s music to my ears people!

Louie started doing his weird celebratory shuffle; I mean his body just tends to hobble strangely when he does it. It’s those stumpy legs, they’re really bad for dancing. He just looks like a baby trying to walk.

LOUIE: Walt you’ve done an amazing job here. All the people here look absolutely miserable.

WALT: See Louie, that’s cause everyone here was a big deal back on earth. They got to call all the shots and had the little guy pick up after them. Now the shoes on the other foot, they ain’t ever gonna accept it; since they know what the good life is like.

LOUIE :This is exactly how Hell should be! Hey you even got the clown.

WALT: Oh him? No, that’s actually John Wayne Gacy. He had a good resumé.

The McDonald-Trump wasn’t just great at torturing the damned; it was also proving to be pretty popular. I mean it was the first place to serve something other than pizza in God knows how long. I have no idea how our economy even works, from the way Louie described it; it sounds like there’s no point to it, but I like to think we’ve made a positive impact. To celebrate Louie and I hit the casino. From there our regular practice of debauchery commenced. Louie kept throwing his shoes at people, on one occasion he took the shoes off a guy and threw them back at him. I don’t if he does it cause he’s happy or because he’s losing it. The highlight of the night was when we forced Aleister Crowley to eat a live squid.

LOUIE: Aleister, this squid is either going down your throat or up your ass, so what’s it gonna be?

ALEISTER: You’re a monster!

After an hour of watching Aleister’s stomach getting pumped by the medics we found ourselves in a snazzy jazz lounge.

LOUIE: I gotta tell you Walt, tonight was the most fun I’ve had in years.

WALT: What about the first night I got here?

LOUIE: What?

WALT: Don’t you remember when I got here? Never mind, I’m surprised you even remember my name.

LOUIE: Do you know how you got here? I mean how you died?

WALT: Actually I don’t.

LOUIE: Do you wanna know? I can found out for you.

WALT: You know Louie, I don’t actually care. Up there I was living to work, and then going to work to live. You get what I mean?

LOUIE: Kinda, I think.

WALT: I never felt alive up there, not in a long time. You want to hear something sad? Today was the proudest I’ve ever been of myself.

LOUIE: Hey, ain’t nothing wrong with that. You’re really good at bringing pain and misery to others. I mean you got a real talent for it.

WALT: Thanks.

LOUIE: I want you to keep working for me.

WALT: What?

LOUIE: Look, Walt. I’m gonna be frank. I’m getting old. The memory ain’t what it used to be. I need someone who can cover my back, you know.

WALT: Yes! Absolutely! I’ll do it!

LOUIE: Don’t you want to hear about what I’m gonna ask of you?

WALT: I… I don’t care.

LOUIE: Well, you should. I got a very important task lined up for you.

WALT: And that is?

LOUIE: I need you to return to Earth and try and decrease the number of people coming into Hell.

The funniest thing I ever heard. The Tom Collins I was drinking literally sprayed out my nose.

LOUIE: I’m serious Walt. We got a real population crisis down here.

WALT: How can that be?

LOUIE: Think about it, we’ve been operating since the beginning of time. This was bound to happen eventually. I’m trying to expand into another dimension, but until then I need you to keep in the numbers coming in as low as possible.

WALT: But I just got here and now you want to send me up back to that shit hole-wait a minute you can send me back up?

LOUIE: Yeah, sure there’s a load of former residents living up there. Ain’t you ever heard of Nicholas Cage or Keanu Reeves? Besides you can always come back.

WALT: Alright, but I want a couple of things before I do this.

Louie obliged my demands. The first being another new torturous establishment added to Hell. I didn’t go with this idea at first because I simply believed it to be too harsh a punishment. But after watching every single episode of Hardcore Pawn for the seventh time, I decided it was time to create some new content.

WALT: Louie, what you are looking at is Hell’s very first pawn shop.

LOUIE: It’s terrible, the carpet is awful, everybody is yelling at each other and there’s too much junk everywhere. I love it!

WALT: Let me introduce you to the bottom bitch of this awful establishment. Freddie Cowly. My former employer. Best known for his tax evasion, and entry level business management skills.

FREDDIE: Welcome to Hell Jewelry and Gold.

WALT: Go clean the ceiling bitch.

I’d hate to say something as cheesy as I didn’t find my purpose until I died, but that’s exactly what happened. It was a hard road to travel, but I deserve to be here more than anyone who ever died.