As I stood and watched the woman pour herself down the handicapped ramp it occurred to me that Hell probably didn't have stairs. All this time I had just assumed. Now I was pretty sure I would be trapped behind a throng of people shuffling down a low-grade ramp because they can't bear to use the stairs. It was then that I started to think about repenting.
I thought I would just come down off a flight of stairs into a drab country setting, shoulders back and ready to atone. Maybe I was getting it confused with Limbo. I was a little disappointed that I probably wouldn't be meeting the Light Bringer himself. Maybe I should have stolen more as a teenager.
My mother used to say that we had better bury her in sunglasses and a bikini, because where she was going it was hot. So, while that subject sometimes comes to mind, I think of her in that bikini and sunglasses, dancing like the way she danced for that clown on Hale Street once upon a time.
"I wouldn't pay that much to see Jesus Christ" was my mother on the subject of concert tickets.
"I guess no one was coming to dinner" was my mother responding to a neighbor trying to kill herself on Thanksgiving.
Maybe people just fell into the Pit? Maybe they were escorted. "Hello, I'm Wilfred Brimley, and you have slipped the mortal coil."
Once I was talking to Merghast and he told me his idea of Hell was just an entire world composed of nothing but concrete or....asphalt. Just endlessly walking with no landmarks or any other people. I always imagined it would be foggy there, too.
I bet my hell would involve having to shower with clothes on. And sleeping with socks.
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