Remembering Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

the
majority of Hellions live on the opposite side of the city, and a great deal of
Heaven’s occupants live…well…up, we basically are all the same. With the help
of Deedy’s magic, residents of Hell can’t see anything that would be considered
Heaven-centric. The heat that makes Hell such a famous shit hole is
manufactured by the guilt and remorse that people who feel they belong there
walk around carrying with them. Isn’t that a kick in the teeth? Most people go
to Hell because they feel that they deserve it.
    And the ones that were so bad in
life that there was no choice but eternal damnation? They have a very special
punishment. With all its torments, Hell would be a playground to mass
murderers, pedophiles, dictators, and tyrants. They come here not only under
tortuous circumstances, but also as children. The most frightening thing about
Hell is the kid population. I happen to have first-hand knowledge of that
particular fact. One of my temp jobs was at a daycare center in Hell.
    However, it was my work at
IP&FW that truly gave me insight into the general population. Hell is the
one place in the entire universe that everyone without exception needs a Xanax,
and it’s the one place where you cannot find one. No peace, no rest, no
“tomorrow is a better day.” Not until you have learned whatever lessons your
soul desires and Deedy finds you and brings you home. And since no one there
knows or expects that to happen, the despair can be suffocating.
    My dad was the only member of my
immediate family that was there to greet me when I got to Heaven. I didn’t have
a welcoming party, because I didn’t come straight there. But having him standing
with open arms was so special. Some people thought I was a daddy’s girl in
life, but that doesn’t hold a candle to what I am in the afterlife.
    I remember in second grade, this
classmate of mine, a precocious little girl called Kimmy with huge brown eyes
that apparently made every adult in the room turn into a mass of goo. Kimmy was
sitting next to me at lunch, for some strange reason. We weren’t exactly
friends, but I guess at that age, we weren’t self-aware enough to consider each
other enemies. Anyway, I looked up from my peanut butter and jelly to realize
that my father was walking across the cafeteria with my homework in his hand. I
had forgotten it that morning on the counter, and I was already prepared for
the wrath of Mrs. Newman, but now my dad was coming to save me. I remember how
shocked I felt when I saw him standing among my classmates and teachers. I
guess when you are eight years old, compartmentalization of your life comes
naturally. It was very strange for me to see someone from my home, my oasis
from the chaos, standing among the rest of the captives in my daytime cage.
Yes, I felt that strongly about the educational institution even at that tender
age. After Daddy had handed me the precious papers that were basically a get
out of jail free card to me, he leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, then
turned and left. Without the papers in my hand I could have believed that I had
imagined the entire experience. That is, until Kimmy turned to me with those
big brown eyes and said, “Your dad is kinda funny looking, isn’t he?” An
innocent comment from a child’s perspective would be the first thought of any
reasonable adult. My father himself, if he had heard it would have laughed out
loud. However, for a rival child, those words were a declaration of war. The
look of shock and horror were the last expression those adorable eyes were able
to make for the remainder of the week. Particularly the left one, which was
swollen shut after I pounded it with my tiny fists of fury. I felt like Chuck
Norris. Chuck Norris sitting in the principal’s office, but it was pretty
intoxicating nevertheless. Now, take that level of devotion and times it by ten
and that is where I am today.
    Dad and I are laughing at that
shared memory as we enter my apartment