Well, this was sent to me by a friend who found it on a writing sight...NOTE: THIS IS NOT MINE, but it is funny as hell...
Hell Found me
Hell found me. Funny thing, I wasn't even purposely looking for Hell. It just kinda happened. Actually, he was dressed pretty nice.
Oh, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking Hell is a place, not a person. Yeah, that's what I used to think too. Nah, he's a person representing the place of hell, working a job just like you and me. Got that? It's kinda like buying a car from Henry Ford. He's a real guy and his name is Ford, but Ford is a company too. Person and place, two separate things.
In my case, they kinda meld together.
This hell thing has changed a lot in the past thirty years or so. That's what he said.
In fact, his exact quote was, "This hell thing has changed quite a bit during the past thirty years, what with humans getting smarter and more savvy these days."
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm a nut case or something and you may be right, but let me tell you what happened and then you can make up your mind.
First of all, I'm an average Joe. Well, I was an average Joe. Not any more, but I'll get to that later. Here, this is better...I was an average Joe. That's what started this whole business with me and Hell.
I was sipping a Mint Mocha Chip Frappuccino® at Starbucks bemoaning the fact that I had a crappy job and no love life. I know, it's a geek drink. I know. Okay?
Anyway, I'm sipping my Frap when they walk in. You know, Mr. and Miss. Awesome. It's obvious they're wealthy. Just look at them and you know they have a great sex life, beyond my wildest dreams, and I have some wild dreams. Obviously, they're gorgeous. The beautiful people. A couple of tens strutting their stuff.
Me? I was a four, maybe a five and had never had anything better than a three in bed. So, I'm staring at her, beginning my fantasy when I say softly, "What I wouldn't give to be like them." I actually said it out loud. I couldn't believe it.
What made it worse was the guy next to me. He was all slicked up like a used car salesman, but it looked good on him. His hair was all black and slicked back. He had a black mustache that looked like it belonged on a weasel. He turned to me when he heard what I said. He looked me in the eyes and nodded with a smile like he just found a dollar on the sidewalk.
"My name's Hell, Bernin Hell."
I thought he was joking until he handed me his card.
Bernin Hell
Global Soul Specialist
He shook my hand. It kinda felt like he had Greaseless Bengay Pain Relieving Formula on his hand. It made my hand burn a little when he touched it. The deep heat sensation stayed there long after he let go.
"I heard what you said. Are you serious? I don't want to waste my time if you're not serious."
I was still shaking my hand trying to get the tingling to leave. It burned. Kinda felt good, though.
Anyway, I look at him like I'm a lost puppy. I forgot what I had said. He picked up on my cluelessness.
"You said you'd give anything to be like them." He pointed to the couple fondling each other in public.
I thought about it.
"Nope. I didn't say that. I said, 'What I wouldn't give to be like them.' If I remember correctly."
"You're right. That's what you said. I was just testing you. You serious about that? I might be able to make a deal."
I coulda sworn his eyes went red on me. I looked back at them and they were black again.
"You're crazy," I told him.
"Nope. I'm not crazy. I'm a contractor."
"What? A contractor?"
"Yep, I represent Satan. I'm an authorized Global Soul Specialist."
"What?"
"A Global Soul Specialist. I'm authorized to trade items, such as wealth and fame for your soul."
"For my soul?"
"Well, not really all of your soul."
"What?"
That's when he said it.
"This hell thing has changed quite a bit during the past thirty years, what with humans getting smarter and more savvy these days."
I started backing away. He picked up on me real quick.
"Whoa! Hold on a minute. It's not what you think. I'm not asking you to trade your soul for eternity and eternal damnation. Come on, give me a chance to explain."
I looked at him hesitantly.
"Hey, I don't bite!" he quipped.
I sat back down. I figured I'd at least listen to him.
"Okay, here's the deal. It used to be that you had to sell your soul to get these things. You know, wealth, fame, good looks and all."
"I'm not selling my soul!"
"Hey, hey! It's alright. I'm not asking you to sell your soul. Like I said, things have changed. You don't have to sell your soul and face eternal damnation anymore. We have a new plan."
"New plan?"
"Yup, it's pretty cool. You wanna hear about it?"
"I'll listen."
"Good. You'll like this. See, we started losing business when eternity was involved. Well, Satan was reading a newspaper a couple of decades ago and got this great idea."
"Satan reads? I never quite pictured him reading."
"Oh, sure. He reads all the time. He likes Stephen King and Danielle Steele."
"Danielle Steele?!"
"Oh, yeah. Satan's a sucker for romance stories. He gets all teary eyed sometimes."
"No!"
"I swear to God. Satan's got this big old soft spot in him. That's why he's offering this new deal."
"New deal?"
"Yup, greatest thing since sliced bread. I tell you what, Satan's getting senile to offer such a great deal. Wait 'til you hear it."
"I'm listening."
"You don't have to sell your soul anymore. Is that great or what? No more eternal damnation!"
"You're kidding!"
"Nope, it's true. Like I was saying, Satan saw this ad in the newspaper and decided to try a new marketing plan."
"So if I don't have to sell my soul, what do I give in exchange?"
"Your soul."
"I thought you just said I didn't have to sell my soul!"
"That's absolutely correct! You don't have to sell your soul!"
"Then what do I do?"
"We've got a new plan. Now you can lease your soul to the Prince of Darkness. No long term commitments now. Just a few centuries of agony and endless pain and you're through."
"Lease my soul?"
"Absolutely correct! Think about it. See that hot blonde over there?"
"Yeah."
"Would you give, oh say, a hundred years of hell to have her for a couple of weeks?"
"Damn, that's all?"
"That's it."
"What if I want her for ten years?"
"Oh, that's only ten years in hell."
"What? Only ten years? Why?"
"We figure after a couple of years with her and you'll wish you're in hell. It all balances out in the end."
"You've got to be kidding!"
"I'm not! Business is booming with our new Flex/Lease. You get to negotiate flexible terms now."
"How flexible?"
"Well, like I said, it's a give and take thing. Tell me what you want."
I thought about it.
"I want to be rich."
"How rich?"
"I don't know, not Bill Gates rich, uhmmmm how about five or six millions dollars?"
"Two hundred years of hell. What a bargain!"
"Only two hundred years for six millions dollars?"
"What a deal! Can you believe it?"
"And I don't have to sell my soul?"
"Absolutely correct, just a simple lease. You burn in torment for a couple of hundred years and you're done!"
"Damn!"
"Nope, only temporary damnation!"
"Man, that's a hard deal to pass up."
"Hey, we even have options in the flex plan."
"What kind of options?"
"You like women?"
"Yeah."
"Here's what we got."
Bernin Hell pulled out his leather briefcase and opened it on the table. He pulled out some of the slickest brochures I've ever seen. They were four color glossy pictures of thousands of women. Each one had a number of years next to their name.
I look at them.
"Damn."
"It's quite a deal, ain't it?"
I was amazed. Brittney Spears, two weeks, one thousand years of fiery torment. Not bad. Jessica Simpson, one week, one millennium of pulsating brimstone pouring over my body. Jessica Alba, one week, two thousand years. I looked up at Bernin.
"She's hot now. We can charge extra."
I kept looking at the list. The names went on and on. I even saw Hillary Clinton's name and picture.
"This must be a misprint."
"Nope, that's right."
"It says negative ten thousand years for one week."
"Yup, that's right. She can be a real bitch. I'd advise against that choice. Just ask Bill, he's the one who listed her."
"He listed her for hell?"
"Yeah, he's trying to pay some time off. He liked our female catalogue quite a bit. We haven't had many takers on Hillary. A couple of people are suing us for inhumane treatment and disclosure clauses. On the other hand, she signed a big contract to win the presidency in 2008."
"No!"
"Yup, she did."
"Damn!"
"Fifty thousand years of damnation for her. Ahhh, she'll get out early. Satan can't stand her."
"You mean I can get a government position like congressman or senator?"
"Absolutely. There are a few clauses and deposits."
"Deposits?"
"Yup. If you want to be a congressman or senator you have to give us your moral conscience as a deposit."
"What?"
"Don't worry. As a congressman or senator, you won't need one."
"Well, that does make a lot of sense now that I think about it."
"You bet it does. It explains a lot of things, doesn't it?"
"It sure does."
I kept looking at the catalogue. I was figuring up my time. It didn't seem so bad. So I started working on my contract. What the hell. I mean literally, what the hell!
So I picked out some fine women, including my high school algebra teacher. She was a hottie and I always wanted her. I took the upgraded wealth package for twenty million dollars. It was only a few hundred more years of worms and bugs eating out my internal organs. I figured it was worth it.
"Tell you what I'm going to do for you," Bernin said. "I'm going to throw in the Deluxe Package for free!"
"Deluxe Package?"
"Yup. You get to be on American Idol and come in third place. No extra charge!"
"Damn!"
"Nope. No extra damnation for that one!"
"Golly, that's great!"
"It sure is. Now we gotta go through a couple of clauses on the contract here before you sign. I tell you what, because of all the lawyers in hell we've got lawsuits everywhere. You talk about scum. I'd take red hot pointy objects stuck in my eyes for ten thousand years over two minutes with a lawyer!"
We both laughed at that one.
Well, there was the No Return Policy. That was heavily emphasized on the Jennifer Lopez Package. Apparently, Satan got burned on a few of those deals. Then there was the NO Whining Policy. I guess Satan likes to hear people scream and plead and yell in torment, but it appears that he can't stand whining.
Bernin was pretty funny over that one.
"Oh, it's too hot here. It hurts too much. Owwwww! I don't like that."
I tell you what, Bernin was cracking me up with some of the whiners down there. But a contract is a contract. For every whine, you get an extra hundred years. Bernin was telling me that Strom Thurmond got over ten thousand extra years added on to his contract. Apparently, he didn't think he belonged in hell!
Oh, and the final clause... The No Repentance Clause. I guess there was a bunch of people who got out of hell at the last minute. That got Satan mad. Bernin was telling me those damn lawyers are screwing everything up. He said Satan's thinking about letting them all go just for fun.
Oh well, now you know how I got this beautiful girl on my arm and a bank account filled up with millions. I loved being on American Idol. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a Congressman now. But I figure I'll work it off with Hillary. I mean, what's two weeks with Hillary, it can't be that bad, can it?