Well, this is indeed awkward. I was scheduled to post a really cool tale for you all for Cinco de Mayo, but word got out that ICE would be on the lookout for some effortless captures. And that would have one Hell of a buzz kill. So, I chilled, enjoyed some Patron Silver and chips, and wrote this tale instead. Besides, Friday night, I found myself inexplicably stranded at the Gates of Hell, utterly clueless about where to turn or how to navigate this unsettling, hellish predicament. No, Bullshit. 😕
This was an experience like no other, and such a unique ordeal deserves to be shared with all of you. First, if you ever find yourself standing at the Gates of Hell, don’t waste your precious time asking yourself why you are there. If you think it through, you can come up with a few possible reasons that might qualify. And whatever you do, don’t try calling for help on your smartphone because there is no cell service in Hell. Not even from Verizon.
And even if you could somehow place a call, who on Earth do you know that would be willing to brave the Gates of Hell to rescue you? If you find yourself in Hell, chances are the people you know are far too busy cashing in on your life insurance policies to even care about your situation. And I'm certain those are the kind of friends and family I have in my life. 😕
You'd be better off if you took a moment to pause and collect yourself. Take a moment to truly understand your surroundings. Consider taking a walk around and meeting some of the diverse people who are also here. This won't be difficult because Hell is crowded and incredibly loud. People are everywhere. Lost souls, the eternally dammed, and the evil dead crammed onto every corner, making it a bustling hot spot.
And don’t be shy around the famous faces you might encounter. In Hell, there’s no hierarchy or celebrity status. Your presence here signifies that you’re at the very bottom of everything, known and unknown. You can’t sink any lower than residing in Hell, where everyone’s suffering is shared equally.
There are no cooler spaces to escape to in Hell. You won't find a cold beer anywhere in sight, regardless of your wealth. It doesn’t matter who you were in life, what accolades you've achieved, or even who your family is; when you arrive in Hell, you are worth absolutely nothing.
You could have been a president, a prime minister, a king, or even a Fortune 100 CEO, yet you would still hold less influence than a flea on a camel's ass. So, don’t hesitate to say hi when encountering someone like Hitler. I did just that; it was an experience I won't forget.
Adolf was crouched beside an old, rotting weeping willow, barely visible through a sea of former police officers, war heroes, religious leaders, and politicians who seemed to have gathered for some grand occasion. It was tough navigating through the crowd, but I managed to catch Hitler's attention and push through the throngs of people surrounding him. However, before I could introduce myself and make my case, Hitler cut me off mid-sentence, declaring that he already knew who I was because he'd heard I was coming.
Damn, that’s messed up, I thought, but I was resolute in my determination to get to know the guy, if only to pose the question that everyone would want an answer to: Why? Having spent countless hours watching the History Channel, I knew this guy had a reputation for being a real hothead, and I certainly didn’t want to provoke him before I could convince him that I wasn’t a Jew in disguise.
Once I'd alleviated his fears by sharing a ham sandwich, he attempted to smile to show his appreciation for my interest in him, but smiles are rare in Hell, so I took his effort as a positive sign of progress. Unfortunately, I foolishly asked him if he had any regrets about his past actions, because, in proper form, this Mother-Fu#*ker launched into an explosive tirade against me.
Hitler jumped up from his seated position, locked his icy gaze onto mine with a contempt so profound it felt like a physical force, and angrily declared, "Being misunderstood is my only regret." Then, without a moment's notice, he erupted into a furious yell at the top of his lungs, insisting he was framed, robbed, and the victim of the most venomous character assassination the world has ever known. "Lies, lies, all lies," he shouted vehemently.
I attempted to ease away from him as he began to foam at the mouth, but the more heated he became, the more a white-hot, lava-like liquid dribbled down his chin and splattered onto the ground near my feet.
Caught up in the chaos, I failed to notice a crowd forming behind me, straining to hear Hitler's furious tirade that echoed with an unsettling fervor. I couldn't move far or fast enough to escape before it was too late; I was ensnared in the madness now, trapped in a whirlwind of fury and hatred. Just as he had in life, Hitler in Hell could still enthrall an audience like you wouldn’t believe, wielding his words like weapons.
The throng of hate began cheering wildly as Adolf unleashed some of his most notorious hate speeches, each word dripping with venom and malice.
It was nothing short of a grotesque spectacle, and it dragged on for what felt like hours, or perhaps even longer, each moment stretching painfully into eternity. During that time, Hitler whipped himself and his audience into such a frenzy that they morphed into a rabid mob, driven by an insatiable thirst for blood and vengeance. Suddenly, I felt the piercing gazes of countless eyes fixed on me, a collective stare that sent chills down my spine.
What the Hell? The crowd regarded me as if I were the very embodiment of their pain, their misery, and their eternal despair. This was Evil leading Evil, and all the malevolence in Hell was converging upon me like a storm gathering strength.
While I now understand that questioning why and how I ended up in Hell is ultimately futile, I couldn’t help but ponder what I had done to become the most reviled person in the underworld. Even Hitler had a fan club, and here I was, standing alone amidst the echoes of their hatred, utterly bewildered by my existence.
As the mass of haters began to close in around me, yelling phrases like "Get him," "Hold him," and "Burn his soul," I somehow summoned the strength to break free and ran aimlessly, darting in one direction after another. Yet, every path I took led me back to the same place I had just escaped.
It was a relentless cycle that only seemed to tighten, becoming smaller the faster and more frantically I ran. Those who weren’t actively trying to incinerate my very soul merely offered me hostile glares and piercing stares as I staggered and stumbled through a sea of hands, pulling at the last few threads of my tattered and shredded clothing. I asked myself if this truly was the end and what comes after Hell.
Just when I knew all was lost, I felt a familiar tug at my pant leg, along with an unmistakable GRR. It was Doobie, my estranged radicalized Yorkshire Terrier. Being a savage beast, convicted for bestiality, drug trafficking, terrorist activities, torture, war crimes, crimes against humanity, spying for a foreign country, driving under the influence, driving without a license, and for conduct unbecoming of a dog, I was not surprised to see Doobie in Hell.
As bad as Doobie was and as much as I'd grown to dislike Doobie, his face was a happy sight for my bloodshot and blurry eyes. I knew if anybody could find a way out of Hell, it was Doobie. The Bastard, I thought to myself. Follow me, he says. I'm in and out of this joint all the time. Just grab my collar, close your eyes, and don't open them until I tell you to. Considering what I'd seen so far, I followed Doobie's instructions without question. Along the way, I heard Hell's haters cursing my name relentlessly. I heard howls and growls. I heard screams of nightmarish dreams. I listened to the reign of Hell's pain. Yeah, this was some wild Sh!t!
When we arrived at what Doobie said was the only known exit from Hell, he told me to open my eyes. And we stood at the most horrifying Gothic gates I'd ever seen. He told me to recite a series of prime numbers he'd said were in my pocket. I did so obediently, and the Gates of Hell began to open slowly. I could still hear the groans and moans of those left behind as we returned to the world of the living.
Now, believe me when I tell you, as incredibly grateful as I was for the unexpected rescue, I still couldn't resist demanding that Doobie explain how in the world I ended up in Hell and why, for heaven's sake, I was so reviled when I got there. Because he knew exactly where to find me, I was sure Doobie had something to do with my unfortunate predicament.
However, to my surprise, for once in his wretched life, the bastard told me the truth, albeit reluctantly. According to Doobie, he had gotten himself into a high-stakes poker game with the Devil, a gamble that turned out to be far more perilous than he anticipated, and he had run out of shekels he'd stolen from a bank in Tel Aviv.
There was a massive pot sitting ominously on the table, and the Devil, in all his wickedness, refused to accept anything but a sucker's soul if he wanted to stay in the game. So, in sheer stupidity, Doobie decided to steal mine, convinced that nothing could beat the full house he was holding.
Like a complete idiot, Doobie failed to remember one crucial fact: the Devil cheats and always finds a way to win. I was so furious that I wanted to have his ass neutered on the spot, but deep down, I knew it would only make him even meaner than he already is. So, for once, I dummied up and followed Doobie's lead. And sure enough, Doobie had two gold leprechaun get out of Hell coins to bribe a retarded demon guarding one of Hell's few secret exits. Now, ain't that some shit? Since I didn't know how to thank Doobie for pulling my ass out of the fire, I didn't even try. Fuck It!
After much consideration, I decided to let it go and devise a believable explanation for my absence. Until I could think of something better, this will have to suffice. For those of you who would prefer to believe this is just some exaggerated tall tale concocted to avoid posting as promised, I can assure you from personal experience: Hell is teeming with non-believers just like you. So there! 😎
Yo, I'll Sh!t-Chat with y'all on Monday. Maybe. And do me a solid, share this post with a friend. Doobie loves the attention.
