Andreas blinked and then twitched as the white-hot nails were driven into his skull. Shrieking in agony he said, “Wait, I just committed suicide. I don’t belong here!”

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

The team of demons kept hammering nails into his skull and privates, taking a moment to laugh at him. The lead demon, who had a clipboard and was calling for the razor team, gave a leer. “You idiot. Suicide’s don’t always wind up here, most are forgiven and given a place in that boring Romper Room up above. But special guys like you – well, we have a room just for you!”

Andreas moaned as the razor team started to work on the back of his legs. Every slice of the razor was followed with a spritz of lemon juice mixed with alcohol. Not enough to overload the nerves, but enough to make them jangle and bounce as though they might explode from his skin. Another demon had a test kit with him and was touching two of the nails protruding from his skin to pass a current. The skin around the nails sizzled a little and then healed. Both processes were exquisitely agonizing.

“But I was a suicide. Why would I wind up here?”

The demon in charge ignored him and motioned the hammer team in. They proceeded to break all of the small bones in Andreas’ body. They were very good, obviously having studied anatomy at some medical school. Abortionists who’s practices had required a medical license on Earth had a new home with new responsibilities in Hell. Seemed like a good fit given their outstanding performance.

Once the hammering was complete he responded, “If you commit suicide, you get a pass. It’s usually the the result of depression or some insanity that causes you to lose touch with God. But you, my little pigeon, you chose to fly an airliner full of people into the Alps. You didn’t commit suicide, you murdered over 150 people. Same thing with that idiot Atta and his buddy Al-Batouti over in the corner.”

Andreas looked in the direction the demon had pointed. There was a pillar of flame burning slowly. Looking more closely, he recognized the 911 hijacker and the co-pilot of the Egypt Air flight. They burned but were not consumed. This was not looking good.

“We also have some special idiots in there that you will get to know over the next few millennia. We have a woman who tried to kill herself with natural gas fumes. She did a nice job. But the pipe she opened up filled the apartment building she lived in at five in the morning, and blew it to bits. Forty dead and another 200 burned. She’s got the chains next to Larry. He worked in a munitions plant in Texas and blew himself up on purpose. Took over thirty of his coworkers with him. He gets to repeat that moment thirty times a day. Oopsie.”

Andreas saw the future: there was none. But there was an eternity of torment stretching out ahead of him.

“We’ll start you off where you might find some friends. Well, fellow Germans anyway. We have a whole wing where the new people go through indoctrination. You’ve been assigned to Hitler, Himmler, and Goebbels unit for indoctrination. After a few months of that we’ll see where you go.”

“But, I’m not a NAZI! I don’t believe in that stuff.”

The demon pointed to a bunker door in the far wall. “Doesn’t matter what you believe in, Andreas; your deeds determine your company down here.”

Andreas saw Martin Bormann motioning to him. Trotting over was out of the question with all the broken toes but he went as quickly as he could.

“Wilkommen, Andreas. First item, we delouse you and give you a shower. Step right in here…”

********* ********** *********** ***********

I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Please follow and like us: