How to Get to Hell and Back

Revolving Door Policy

Name: Brad
Age: 42
Location: Perth, Australia

The First Day

I’d bring back my friend Keir. That’s a given. He was the only person from my life that I ever choose to talk to. He’s not around anymore.

I don’t make friends easily. Not that I couldn’t. I know enough to smile and ask someone about their day, but I couldn’t care less about the flood of words that dripped from their boring mouths. Look, I’m no prize to talk to, but I’ve always had the decency to spare anyone from the inane thoughts in my head. I expected the same in return.

He understood how I hated people. He didn’t care for them either, except one quirky woman he found funny, because she had absolutely no sense of humor. She became his wife. He drifted away from my life.

Going Up

After uploading his texts, I took a moment to decide on sending him to Heaven or Hell. He was a good enough guy, but I wasn’t sure they’d allow atheists in Heaven. I sent him upstairs anyway. With his luck, he’d end in the crap part of Heaven and complain the entire time.

I clicked the SUBMIT, button and forgot about it. Got the first text from him that night. He asked me for a cigarette.

Day 6

After he got married, we stayed in touch via text. We’re dudes. Talking would’ve been weird, so it was odd to get a call from him last December. He was in the hospital. Everything was fine. Pneumonia. No big deal. He wanted to say Happy Holidays. I replied, “Good to hear from you,” and hung up without even considering that he’d be dead in a few days.

He lit his last cigarette two years ago, but the decades of smoke prior his recent campaign of clean living made his lungs particularly susceptible to the bacterial infection that took over his organs. He died drowning in his own fluids. In the end, he was connected to machines that helped him breathe, and was hopped up on enough drugs to null any progress he had made towards clean living.

His wife was by his side every moment in the hospital. She stepped away briefly to get some air. He faded away alone in his room. That’s the kind of guy he was. He would’ve never let her to watch him die.

Resting on Cloud Nein

Most of his texts were about how crap heaven is. How he was free-balling under his robe. How he was sh*t at flying, and couldn’t lose the weight to get airborne because he spent all day at the buffet. He’d gotten too big for his cloud and there’s absolutely no pussy up here. Everyone’s covered in a white nondescript gown. The only skin you saw was a bunch of calloused hands and feet. He was never a foot man.

He complained about the sad section where the aborted fetuses just sloshed around. They were also sh*t at flying, because the umbilical cords got in the way. Horrible conversationalists. Couldn’t do anything but gurgle in sad melodies.

The only part that was any good was the gay area. Yes, homosexuality is a sin, but if you repressed it, and got past the gates, you can OUT yourself for all eternity. There’s no backsies, so you can do whatever you want. It’s heaven for chrissakes.

I asked if he’d rather be go south. His answer was obviously, “Hell Yes.”

Day 13

A song from The National would come on. Could be anywhere, in my car, at the gym, it always reminded me of the first week I moved to Perth. Never saw him in my life, this guy walked up to my cubicle and handed me a thumb-drive. He said, “It’s not porn,” and walked away. That’s how he made friends. Never wanted to waste anyone’s time.

I loaded his thumb-drive of music onto an iPod and went running along Swanbourne Beach. (Was it that long ago? I don’t remember ever owning an iPod.) It was a cool night and Matt Berninger crooned about Zombies in his slow deep distinctive voice. That song was sad before. Now it kills me.

The Wonder Down Under

After a week in Hell, Keir went from Private to General of the Pussy Army. He never saw his dick in heaven, but now he looks down and found three, each going into a different hole.

When he wasn’t fucking, he was smoking. He ignited cigarettes off of huge bonfires fueled by plastic “No Smoking” signs. With all that cardio, he’d lost the hundred pounds gained from eating at that eternal buffet. He looked and felt better than he’d ever did when he was alive. Said he’d gotten used to the heat and invited me to join him.

Is this app a recruitment tool for Satan? Would be a good way to promote burning for infinity. I’m seriously considering breaking a few commandments to avoid an eternity of harps.

I asked him if he’d like me to send him Home. He ignored me for a few days, then replied, “Yes.”

Day 20

I was cleaning the basement and came across an old keyboard. Flipping it over, I saw a label with his name on it. At work, he stuck his name on all the stuff in his cubicle. The office was filled with supply vultures who eyed anything that wasn’t nailed down. I once took a sick day and came back to find someone had swiped my keyboard. He handed me this one and told me, “The Z doesn’t work, but you don’t need it. Nobody needs a Z.”

“How do you undo?”

“A man never undoes anything. Undo’s are for pussies. Commit to every keystroke and never look back.”

I sat on the floor and stared at nothing for about an hour.

The Last Day

I sent him to Heaven, then Hell, and with a few clicks, he was home. Now he’s a ghost that haunts a three bedroom house in Noranda.

He told me that it’s good to see his wife again. As much pussy as he had in Hell, he missed hers, though he didn’t mind having three dicks.

His son had gotten a lot bigger. He looks like him, except with a bit more hair. The kid’s going to be a heartbreaker. I asked about watching his kid grow up. Seeing the milestones. He said he wouldn’t mind witnessing his boy pop his cherry, unless he was being diddled by a priest. Then he would have to go full poltergeist.

I said new music would be nice. He said all they played in Hell was Techno and sent me a link to a band called Black English. They sounded remarkably like The National.

Conclusion

Pros: The ability to send folks to Heaven or Hell was interesting. But that music recommendation was impressive. Is your system hooked into a Pandora API?

Cons: I didn’t like the idea of the “Keep it Clean” option. If your loved one cursed like a sailor, it would be wrong for them to clean up their act in the afterlife. People should come as-is.

Rate this Product

It was a nice time filler, but I can’t see anyone using this long term. How long can you hang onto someone? It was depressing.

Would you recommend this to a friend?

No one I know would have that sense of humor.

Epilogue

I got an app notification at 3 AM after snoozing his profile. The text said that he was making his rounds, visiting old friends. It was good to see me. He warned that I shouldn’t stay up to watch dumb movies I don’t care about.

There’s a definite flaw in the A.I. if it thought my friend would go out of his way to see me, even with eternity at his disposal. I notified tech support and deleted the app.