Dante's Failure

Poor Dante, he didn't quite make to the last circle of hell. He did witness quite a few gory and grotesque tortures for familiar crimes, but the last circle of hell was too much for his innocent mind to comprehend.

In this jaded, internet saturated Jackass post 9/11 world, man is not only slightly more sinful than in the past, but also slightly more capable of not going insane and smacking himself in the face with a hammer when he is told the horrible wretched truth of hell. I have it on a good authority from a source that has actually been there, that the following hidden circles of hell not only exist, but are quite large and well populated:


3.14 Circle: Second level, third door on the right: The especially nerdy and antisocial are found here enduring endless dental operations inflicted by inebriated amateur veternarians with rusty hand cranked tools, firebrands and little biting insects of some sort.

1.5th Circle: Down the corridor, and through the looking glass: The obsessive pharisees and damning finger pointers are forced to edit excrutiatingly long essays posted on internet discussion boards in Klingon and Japanese. They are only allowed to use their own blood as ink, which they produce by stabbing their pens into their eyeballs and are whipped and ridiculed by great greasy flabby ogres that constantly point out bizzare little known laws of Romulan and Inuit grammar. Some march for eternity and are beat mercilessly for making minute mistakes like blinking out of time with the cadence.

9th circle: Uz'thalial's Club: In the back room, VIP only: Executives of massive corporations and especially corrupt politians have their heads removed which are used by Uz'thalial's posse to play pocket billiards on a table of fire and coal. The headless bodies are stood upside down with their shoulders inside bedpans and cesspools of uncouth alien excrement and radioactive waste, with worms slithering and pulsating inside their neckholes while the pool players use their asses to chalk their sticks. Their toes are nibbled on by the firery teeth of the devils for appetizers.

If you get more information, feel free to share! Happy Columbus Day!

Next time, next time!

In the twilight, I could just make out the shape of a man, covered with a cloak, moonbeams clutching the pleats in the soft fabric. He stood motionless among twisted tree branches and knotted gnarly trunks.

An owl flew overhead.

I fixed an arrow to my bowstring and took careful aim at the shade before me.

When I let fly, the string hummed in harmony with the whistle of my bolt through the darkness, the short mood completed with a satisfying 'plunk' in cresendo.

I rushed through the undergrowth, brushing the talons of the woods aside and cracking my shins into fallen logs like Barry Bonds in a steroid induced self destructive craze.

When I reached my aim, all I found was an old Holocaust Cloak with a note:

"Missed me again, jerkface!"

I rubbed my shins and scratched my chin thoughtfully. There was nothing left for me to do, so I powered on the Xbox.