By Frank R. Parlato Jr.

1

There was this wondrous man once who was born originally in sin as a baby, but, as he grew older, he was very bad, and, worse, did not follow the preachers much. He did not believe in the Lord much.
When he died, after 76 years, eleven months, two days, 14 hours, 14 minutes, and approximately 27.741289076543 seconds of life, he went, forthwith, to hell for eternity, or, rather, to be poetic, for all-eternity.
Down there it is small: in total size, it is only one-half acre. And hot and humid.
It was only after more than four thousand years that the poor man finally became somewhat acclimated, more or less to the climactic conditions.
He was never comfortable, however, with the pitchfork and the brimstone, and the lake of fire, and he suffered brutally from a rash, or, as he put it rather poetically, an arse -rash.

He had plenty of time to reflect, however. Thankfully.
He thought about how foolish he had been when he was "alive," when he had thought about what the preachers had told him: they had told him all about hell - but he thought - merely to frighten
him into simply believing that he should be giving them some more money, which was "his", as he thought, at the time, "hard-earned" money.
If only he had believed in the religion he'd been taught (and was fortunate enough to have been born in), when he was alive, he lamented, nightly, which was to say almost constantly, since it is always night in the Infernal Kingdom.
The preachers had said, "believe or perish," and
if he had listened he would not be here in perdition. (Let this be a lesson to you, my friends, as the poor man would undoubtedly tell you, if only he could, for it is not too late for you.)
There were some comforts in hell, however. Here he made new friends - a cadre of atheists, a fallen minister, some effete actors who inspired the young men of their country to be weak and effeminate like them, bankers, politicians, singers, corporate leaders who polluted half the earth, important people, and, of course, a number of heathens who went to hell mainly because they were born in the wrong religion, and did not know enough to convert.

 (In those days, statistically
  speaking, about 12 million
  happy people departed
 annually from earth to
  heaven; about 40 million,
  after dying, went to hell, or,
  as they call it down here,
  "Cocytus." Most of the 40
  million annual inductees
  came primarily because they
  were born [and died] in false
  religions. The second largest group - whom were none the less diabolical, if you'll pardon the word – were born in the right religion, but failed to believe as the preachers had taught them. The third and smallest group were just plain stinkers. For more information on this topic see The Devil's Almanac, chapter 2986, pp 4,871-34,542; Hell and its Denizens (a study on population and density) pub. 1057 and An Immigrant's Story pub. 1861, by Count Furfur)

2

  To get back to our story: The poor man who went to
  hell was not without comforts. He was gratified to
 meet the incoming residents, the "true converts," as
  the devil called them, for, as the devil often said with
  a chuckle, "they'll never convert back again." And the
  "Old Gentleman, as the poor man often called him,
  was solicitous about the poor man too. (They were
  both affable; they had that in common). The Devil
  was charmed by the poor man's urbane manners and
  his habit of listening keenly to anything anyone said.
  He used to visit him nightly where they would talk of
  earth and how sinful the people were and discuss
  philosophy.

Mr. Scratch often came to see him after his daily round up
on earth. Most of the
incoming residents got down to hell by their own exertions, without diabolic interference, as did, for instance, the one year old boy who died of cholera who had been born in the wrong religion, or a six year old girl who was run
over by a bus who had been born in the right religion but her parents had neglected
an important water
ceremonial essential for her ascent up to heaven. Sometimes, Old Nick had his little joke, however. One day, for example, he brought up
an odd-looking man who had died after eating 48 raw oysters which so thoroughly constipated him that his appendix burst. The devil had his fun by appearing to the man in the restaurant and approaching him (knowing he was soon to expire) and humorously remarking, "you're really living it up aren't you?" and the man, so full of fun on the eve of his dissolution, with a full dozen freshly shucked oysters expiring in their own juices on his platter, quipped, "yes, I am, but the oysters are not." And the devil chuckled heartily and that disconcerted the man not a little. That night Old Horny was at his bedside to conduct him directly to what they sometimes call it down here, to "Avernus."

 So the Devil would come to see the poor man and to their
 mutual delight tell lovely, amusing stories of his adventures on
  earth and, one day, when that old Dark Angel was feeling
  especially proud of deeds well done he told the poor man his
  own life story (which, as those who know him know, he seldom
  does). Afterward, the poor man made several insightful
  comments referring to the Devil in turn as "His Satanic
  Majesty," and next, rather flattering, as "The Earl of Hell,"
  which encouraged the Devil to confide several other amusing
  anecdotes including how he got the appellation, "Old Gooseberry" -- stories, which are not generally known to the universe.
Additionally, the poor man made the acquaintance of many of the Devil's most intimate subordinates, and to mention them, (and, out of respect, in alphabetical order) they included the august President of the Council, his excellency Adramelech, and his friend and supporter, Aguares, who is, as most of you probably know, the Grand Duke of Eastern Hell (which is where the poor man mainly resided). There was also that fastidious archivist, Baalberth, (which, in hell, to say the least, is an important position, as many damned souls try their darnest to appeal their eternal
and infernal stay here. But Baalberth has never lost a case yet.) Then there was the charming Count Furfur,
and his girlfriend, the lovely Lilith, who was Adam's first wife; and the Marquis Narbus, and the clever Paymon, master of ceremonies, and the serpent, Samael who tempted Eve; and Ambassador Thamuz, and that
ebullient entertainment director of hell, the ever scintillating, and facetious Kobal, and the faithful Mephistopheles, manservant and confidante of Lucifer, and, of course, Nerger, chief of the secret police (a man who it is, let us say, always good to be on the good side of) and several other grand and illustrious gentlemen (and ladies) who declined to allow their names to be given for publication and would speak to him only on condition of anonymity.

3

Time passed.
After about 134 million years, a few merciless people who were condemned eternally to the fires of Acheron discovered a merciful God in one of the universes, and this self-styled "God" told them they could leave Hades and go to some so-called heaven with Him. They did. Before they went, they asked the poor man if he wanted to go, but he was chagrined. Although he would like to leave, he could not. He had failed his religion once before. From now on he would try to live up to it; it was his religious duty to stay, he said.
After another 157 million years, a motley assemblage of sinners led by that now-traitorous denizen, Lethe's very own, now turn-coat, Ambassador Thamuz, also found merciful Gods, and planned to leave. It was a scandal, even outside, in the remote outskirts, but known still as part of greater Gehenna. Before they could leave, the poor man gathered the motley group and literally condemned them, and, especially Ambassador Thamuz, for following some "ultra- dubious God (who) preaches some utterly false notion of religion.

  "The Prince of Pandemonium
  is our leader now," the poor
  man said, "not this false,
  new God.

  "You cannot abandon, you
  must not abandon, the
  infernal regions for it is our
  God- given home. This is
  God's divine plan. This false
  God is not to be followed,
  but to be condemned
  Himself.

  "This God," he added, and
  now he spoke with tremulous
  voice, not unlike what he
  had seen affected by the
  preachers on earth a hundred times, "This God -darned God is preaching a false and damnable doctrine. Instead of forsaking your own religion, you should remain damned here where you belong, and this false God- damned God should be made to convert and stay here where the smoke of His torment will rise forever, and ever, throughout all time."
The poor man felt proud of his poetic and emotional speech; but the multitudes heard him not and left.

Exacerbating matters, other irreverent sinners got it into their heads that they could leave hell without anyone's permission, neither some "God," nor the Devil's, and these "independents" (as the Devil called them) left, and went either to some heaven, or, in the alternative, exploring the universe. Some of them started their own heavens. Pretty soon, to almost everyone's dismay, these new heavens got filled up with sinners who had left the Pit without permission (and, candidly, some of these "heavens" were not, practically speaking, much different than the real, eternal hell). Some of these independent souls changed their "damned" identities altogether, and, after leaving hell, went to live on other planets, or shifted to other dimensions.

When the poor man complained to the Devil, Old Harry only said he was pleased to be rid of these (then he started cussing like the dickens) "execrably damned eternally damnable damn vulgar malcontent sinners. May they be damned - damn them- but somewhere else!"
Still, the poor man thought the Devil should try harder to keep these poor damned souls from escaping. If word leaked out that these damned souls were randomly leaving hell, it would be a bad thing for religion.

4

  One day, a young man came -- he was
  formerly known on earth as Mr. Sutton
  Gassaway – and he used to spend long hours
  closeted with the Devil (and boast about it,
  too). Then, as does (or so it is rumored) a bat,
  he left, and started his own hell, and then
  tried to compete for business, now advertising
  (on earth) and calling himself The Young
  Clootie.

  He had a whole acre of land, a smallish pit - it
  was not factually bottomless, and a lake
  (actually, the poor man quipped it was at best
  a pond) of fire - but it never caught on. The poor man thought this "gent," and he used the word advisedly, ( "a real devil," he called Young Clootie privately) who, in his brazen way, adopted the elegant red suit, the black waistcoat, the splendid brown horns, and even donned an artificial bluish-black, hairy tail precisely the same length as Old Clootie's (measuring 23 and one half inches in length, and three inches in circumference) should be, "roasted eternally in hell for his spurious attempt at trying to usurp Old Nick's divinely appointed realm."
"But what good would that do," the poor man thought later, "for ‘the gent' had been there and left."
Consequently, the poor man waited, anguished, in the real hell, suffering constantly, and tormented by everlasting fire, while others around him just up and left and some, like Young Clootie, took outrageous liberties with their own personal damnation.
"Is there no divine justice?" the poor man asked himself in a mood of pique, and he paced in the dark with the fetid smell of roasting souls filling his astral nostrils.

5

  After about two hundred thousand years,
  the upstart Clootie admitted defeat and
  rather shamefacedly started coming
  around the outer gates of hell. He had
  failed miserably. Now, assuming a devil-
  may-care attitude, he tried to see if he
  could get back in.

  Most of the denizens of hell righteously
  ignored him. Everyone was talking about
  his trying to come back. And the poor
  man out of pique and partly curiosity
  went to the steely gates to see him.

  "Speak of the devil," the poor man said.

  Young Clootie had by now doffed the tail
  and horns, but still he wore the red suit and was carrying with him a handbasket.

He tried to strike up a friendly conversation.
"I'll be damned," said Young Clootie.
"No you won't" said the poor man.
"It's damn good to see you," Young Clootie said trying to be civil.
The poor man was unable to respond quite civilly, however.
"Go to the devil," he said.
"Yes?" said Young Clootie.
"You're a devil, a real devil."
"The devil you say?"
"You little devil, you."
"It was devilish. Forgive me."
"Go to hell."
"I want to."
Then that daring young devil, young Clootie audaciously brought from out of his handbasket, and offered to the poor man, a moist slice of devil's food cake, a couple of deviled eggs, some deviled ham, and deviled chicken.
The poor man was somewhat mollified.
"You look like hell," the poor man said.
"I feel like hell."
"Heaven knows you must have suffered."
"Yeah, I'm caught between the devil and the deep blue sea."
"Why then did you start your own hell?"
"The devil made me do it."
"You caused a hell of a lot of grief. God damn it."
"I had no idea running a hell was so difficult. So many things to do. There were so many things I never even thought of. Just keeping the temperature at a blazing hot 4,936 degrees was damned difficult."
"The devil's in the details," the poor man said.
"Look," said Young Clootie, getting to the point, "unlock the gates and let me in.
"Hell, no."
"It's cold as hell out here."
"I'm hot as hell about what you did.
"For heaven's sakes, please."
"It will be a cold day before they let you back."
"The devil you say?"
"Hell, yes. But why don't you go to heaven, you poor devil."
"Why the devil should I?"
"Just for the hell of it."
"What the devil, where in hell is it?"
"How the hell do I know."
"What the hell, look, I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't. So let me come back."
"Not until hell freezes over."
"Come hell or high water I am coming back."
"That's a hell of an attitude. Can one go to hell and back."
"I'll give someone hell if I don't. "
"Look, you went hell for leather, now you have the devil to pay."
Young Clootie then gave the poor man another piece of devil's food cake, then said cajolingly, "Please... let me give the devil his due."
The poor man shook his head and said "There'd be hell to pay if I did"
"... Then let me sneak in."
"When all hell will breaks loose. You made our lives a living hell."
"Like hell I did."
"Yes, hell, yes, you did. Now get the hell out of here."
"Hells bells, don't I have a hope in hell?"
"You can't play hell or raise hell with us."
"I'll see you in hell."
"You don't have a snowballs chance."
"I'll be back, sure as hell. I'm hell bent."
"I hope to hell you don't."
"Just for the hell of it, let's wager."
"What the bloody hell for?"
"You old devil, you, you're just jealous. now that you're Old Clootie's favorite."
Then Young Clootie started swearing like the devil, or as they say down here, like the "dickens," using all the damn "d" words he could think of (i.e. devildom, devilment, devilship, devilry, deviltry etc.). It was offensive and vulgar to say the least.
  And then Young Clootie said, "what the deuce, I'm no tool of the
  devil."

  "No, you're the devil incarnate," the poor man said a little
  annoyed.

  "And what are you, the devil's advocate?"

  Then Young Clootie, turning emotional, and, seemingly
  crestfallen left the gates, and went and hung himself from a
  branch of an old devilwood tree. But since he had already died
  and was eternally damned he couldn't die again, so after a while
  he just got down from the tree and left and quite frankly no one has ever heard from him since.
When Beelzebub heard about this pleasant exchange, and how the poor man had stood up for him, he was quite pleased, and immediately elevated the poor man to the prestigious House of Princes of the Infernal Kingdom (HPIK). The poor man demurred at first and said at best he should be regarded as "a mere trivial spirit." But the devil was pleased with his humility.
That upstart acted hellaciously, the poor man said.

6

A little more time passed.
After about only a billion years, however, the poor man's consciousness slowly shifted. He began to get bored with the constant darkness, and the heat, and the sinister company, and wondered what life would be like in heaven
or other realms where good people who believed in God lived. He thought about changing his identity altogether
and sneaking out of hell, himself. Instead of being a tormented soul, he thought about becoming an angel, or a god, or maybe even going back to earth, and being reborn as a baby, then living a better life, believing everything the preachers taught, maybe even becoming a preacher himself. Once he imagined being a saint and saving souls. Another time he thought of being a prophet, or even a son of God, and getting born through immaculate conception, then dying for others. Another day he imagined that if he had his own planet to run as a minor god or angel he would not send anybody to hell but would forgive them. He would not let anybody suffer and no one would have to die. They would simply float up to heaven when they got tired of living. As soon as he thought this, however, he was racked with guilt. Then, one ugly, and particularly unfortunate day, he, rather unhappily, fantasized about going to heaven, and instead of being happy with all the glad spirits, in his fantasy, he was sad and refused to accept any privileges, not even God's friendship, until God relented and let everyone come to heaven. He imagined himself thinking "how can I be happy winging about in heaven when others (some of them my very own dear, life-long friends and loving relatives) are suffering in hell? How utterly selfish. I shall not go to heaven until everyone is freed of suffering. Shall I enjoy heaven while others are suffering in hell? That is the attitude of a demon. I'll strike, and get others to strike. We'll all leave heaven together until God becomes a loving God." And so he fantasized and dreamt a lot of mischievous things and felt guilty about it afterward for centuries.
Finally, one wicked day, about three billion years later, a big event in his history occurred; he snuck out of hell and actually went up to heaven where some glad souls welcomed him, and a pleasant looking white-winged angel asked him to stay and not hurry home. In heaven, it was clement and dry, the foliage lush, and verdant, and hundreds of white-winged creatures floated about comfortably everywhere creating a very picturesque sky. (It is just like it is described in the religious pamphlets back on earth.) He found a good number of his old friends there from earth and they all had nice houses with large backyards on the banks of ponds with old, oak trees on the banks, and ponies for their children to ride, and friendly, smiling, tail-wagging dogs, and everyone was happy. His next door neighbor from earth (the late Mr. Nutter Fort), who had always believed everything the preachers had told him, had an entirely all-brick, colonial-style house, far nicer than the one he had on earth, (which factually [on earth] had only brick on the facade, and vinyl siding on the other three sides where you could not see it from the road) and he was busy, cutting his heavenly lawn, and his wife was busily collecting red, ripe apples that had fallen from a gnarled, old apple tree to put into baskets, and his two children were happily playing with their puppy "Rudolph." His neighbor (the late mr. Fort) told the poor man that he had tried to warn him back on earth. The poor man admitted it was so; he knew it now, but, somehow, he wouldn't listen then. Still, he was happy his neighbor made it to heaven and was glad little Jenny, now that her braces were off, had nice, straight, white teeth. (He said, amused by his own wit, "pardon the pun, but Jenny really now has a heavenly smile.") His neighbor said to him, " I probably should not ask this question, for we people in heaven do not like to think of these things - it ruins our day, but, my brother, Kirby, how is he doing down there in hell?"
"Oh, Kirby? He's suffering tremendously. Everyone has remarked how great his ability to suffer is. He's much admired."
"We were quite close," said the late Mr Fort.
While the poor man was talking with his old neighbor, an angel came winging by and asked him to wait a minute, he would ‘go fetch God." But the poor man panicked, and admitted to the angel that he was, "in all actuality," truant from hell, and left as, as the saying goes, as does a bat. He was "so scared," he said to a friend back home (the damned soul of the late Cecil Southpointe) that, maybe, if he had actually seen God, maybe he might want to stay in heaven, and not go back to hell, and, hence, he left "just like a bat," he said.
His friend congratulated him on his presence of mind, and his bat- like action, then they began a candid discussion on the great similarity of the appearances of the faces of certain types of winged bats, and some of the faces of certain of the denizens who resided permanently in Styx.

7

After about a trillion years, more severe changes occurred in the consciousness of the poor man. It was caused it seems by guilt. Extreme and consistent - guilt. He continuously,
and unremittingly, felt guilty about
what he had done, leaving hell, and,
in time, he disciplined his mind never
to think about God, or heaven, and, candidly, he hardly ever did, although he wanted to badly. He concentrated hard and almost constantly on staying in hell. It was hard, mental work but he knew if he did not concentrate so hard all the time he would most certainly have left hell in a trice. It began to torment him, however, and he worried constantly that he might in a moment
of inadvertence leave hell or want to leave hell again, and he often thought that if he wasn't eternally vigilant he might leave hell altogether and never come back. The thought of it made him wretched, and frightened, and tormented constantly.
This was good, he thought.
Sometimes, however, when he was dozing, he would nevertheless imagine God.
He once dreamt he met and loved this God, and was loved in return. One day, he dreamt that he was not a body but just a soul and his soul floated right out of hell and was residing in the body of God. Then he woke up quaking and sweating. He knew he must never think such ignoble and ungrateful thoughts. He was in hell because he was a sinful man. It was proper for a "just God," who is, according to the preachers, (and it must be so) "wrathful, jealous, and vengeful" --to have condemned him. A God who would not punish him eternally was not worthy of the name "God."

8

  More time passed.

  After about 656 quadrillion years, an odd
  event occurred; the Devil himself came and
  paid him a (rather unusual) visit. (Satan had
  been visiting less frequently of late and
  there were some rumors that he had been
  seen leaving hell, and not on a fruitful
  mission to steal souls but, rather, he was
  seen lurking about the outskirts of heaven
  and looking wistfully in). It turned out to be
  true. The devil came to the poor man and
  said he was quitting and going to heaven.

  The Devil asked the poor man if he wanted
  to go along.

  But the faithful, poor man said he wished he
  could, but, as he said before, the preachers
  told him he had to stay in hell forever and he hated to make the same mistake twice and (by following the devil) not listen to the preachers - or, worse yet, make them into blasphemous liars.
He asked the devil why he had to go back to God, and that old trickster said, rather cryptically, that he had "never been apart." That period of time, so-called when he had been "incarnate as Lucifer" that was "just," he said, "just a wink in the eye of time - and time, itself, is nothing more than a mere, passing twinkle in the eye of God." Then old Nick winked, and added that hell itself was "just imaginary," that it is imaged in the mind, as was the poor man's life, and the universe too.
"It is a mere dream," said the devil. "If you stop dreaming it, it will cease. Wake up. The kingdom of heaven is within. You're looking out, and seeing hell. Why not look within, and see the heavenly Self?"
"No wonder they call him the deceiver," the poor man thought to himself.

9

  After the devil left, in a short space of time,
  just two quadrillion years short of two
  hundred quintillion years, many of the
  faithful, damned souls lost their motivation to
  stay. The population of hell gradually
  reduced to a fraction of what it was in its
  heyday, which was 2234321787655555
  5555555555554555555555555555555555
  545555598635365767495760983987252
  40765555555765555555095555555595555
  555525555555555555555555555555555555
  55555555555555555555555999555555
  damned souls.

  It kept going down as damned souls left and
  during the period of the last census it went
  from approximately 16 billion and two
  damned souls residing within the half-acre
  plot which is officially deeded and surveyed and incorporated as the municipality of Hell (plus about 12 million more damned souls in the suburbs) to only 47 damned souls.
Now that old Scratch had left, many of the damned denizens were left more or less scratching their damned auras and feeling betrayed. The Devil took the hindermost so to say and now that he, the Prince of Darkness had left, (like a bat) hell wasn't dark anymore and sometimes neither hot nor humid, but rather clement and comfortable. Many of the damned sinners lost all faith in religion and started to drift upward (or downward, depending on their location [top or bottom of hell] and center of gravity) one by one to heaven. In fact, after less than a septillion years, everyone cleared out -and, as they say, and, factually, not unlike, bats - and finally only the poor man, and one other damned gentlemen remained (the damned soul of Mr. Kirby Gerard Fort, the brother of the poor man's friend in heaven.)
Then, one day, this powerful being came who said his name was God, and He asked the two men to come to heaven. The other man (the late K.G. Fort) was inclined to go, (although he wasn't sure if this was the one, true God or just one of the many powerful beings in the universe who pretend to be God, and fool people on various planets by working in tandem with their preachers to help raise funds. Some of these pretenders are awfully jealous and vengeful just like the Real One. Why, according to a rumor circulating, just the other day one of them flooded his whole planet). But this particular "God" was nice-looking and had a mellifluous voice, and the damned gentleman (the late Mr K.G. Fort) departed rather happily with Him.

The poor man said, however, he couldn't leave. (Secretly, he wanted to, especially when God said to him that a true God loves all his children and would never punish any of them eternally for events occurring during a microscopically short span on earth. "It's absurd," this God said. "My name is ‘forgiveness'").
But the poor man was not convinced: "The smoke of my torment rises for ever and ever on the lake of sulphur," he declared. "Once and for all, the preachers said it, and so it is, and so I must make a stand. They did not equivocate. They did not postulate. They did not leave room for doubt or doubters. And the proof is here: here I am in hell, just as they promised I would be. No, I will not leave, but will remain true to my own religion for all eternity."
After God left, however, the poor man found himself thinking often of God and actually pining and weeping for another sight of him. But he knew in his damned soul that that was bad.

10

Finally, the preachers themselves, the very ones who had told him about hell when they were on earth, came to him, and admitted it was all "just stuff and nonsense" and that they did not know "a blessed thing" about heaven or hell or God or love or anything whatsoever (except calculating tithing, and condemning infidels) and he could leave hell anytime.
He almost believed them, such is the nature of the human soul, it believes as it wishes, but, in as much as he was the only one left in hell, the poor man said he would try to keep the place open in case anyone else needed to be sentenced there by the preachers. The preachers then astonished him altogether when they told him that the material universe had long ago ended.
"The world ended?" The poor man asked incredulously. "But how?"
One of the preachers paused, and looked at the other, and then nodding to him, he offered a knowing look to the poor man and said, "Well it was... it was something new -under the sun. The serpent came."
"You mean my friend, Samael?"
"Yes, and he tempted this man and this woman to have illicit, forbidden sex."
"That's not new."
"But this time Samael came to the woman and tempted her to write about it afterward, and publish it in a romance novel."
"Well, yes?"
"Well the combination of words of one of these, a particular sentence, created the anti-sound vibration that unhinged the universe. As in the beginning, there was the Word, well this sentence started an anti-Word vibration and the cosmos dissolved."
"What was it?"
"What?"
"The sentence."
The preacher paused. "I do not know if I should tell it."
"Come on."
"It might create pandemonium. But, well, nevertheless here it is. Never repeat it to anyone. The woman who ended the universe wrote in her book, ‘Suddenly I felt the propelled seeds of life delectably pounding against my grasping citadel of Venus and in involuntary correspondence my titillated sheathe convulsively clasps in rapid response, the cherished prisoner as in a fantastically frantic frenzied fury we sail spasmodically amid sugar-savored sensations of supreme sensuality, slidingly soaring through softly silvered star-filled sunbursts, sublimely submerged in the shimmering sweet spaceless spectacular, our senses completely enraptured...'"
The poor man shook his head, and said "That's the worst sentence I ever heard. I now understand how the world ended."
"Well," the preacher said, "actually, to be honest with you, I have a slight confession to make. I just made that up. I don't know why I always do that. It sounded good didn't it? It is just an old habit of mine, as a preacher, of talking about what I do not know, and speaking with the authoritative voice. I do not know how the world ended."
"You fooled me."
"That's the point. People want a preacher who knows. You can't blame them. Who's going to give money to a preacher who says ‘I don't know,' who doesn't have the answers? I wanted to know, and when I didn't, for my part, I just said something, made up something, anything. Or I quoted books. But, anyway, I do not know how the world ended, but I do know the world is gone."

  And that much was
  true. So the preachers
  told him, hoping to
  persuade him that no
  one else was coming
  to hell. They waxed
  poetic. Indeed every
  star they said that the
  poor man had ever
  seen in the firmament
  when he had lived on
  earth had long ago
  burned out. And, as to
  the earth, the sun had
  died more than an
  octillion years ago, all
  life had died, and the
  planet earth itself had
  been reduced to
  atoms. It had been
  extinct for far longer than it had ever been in existence, so what was the point of staying in hell for deeds done over a few short years on a long extinct and virtually, from a universal standpoint, utterly insignificant planet?

11

But the poor man heard them not, and stayed alone in hell and suffered there for approximately
9999,999999999999999999999999988770000000003988885996003935504764787
3640273403240278429843509286325780293845734921731823092180948320954
8104574317534750185091845931845093104570145801985409185092384509810
49581098543019384501984309583094850394851999999999999999999999999
more years, as measured in earth time (which was no more) and which, this total time, in the totality of time, is only the briefest blink (to use the Devil's own quaint expression) in the eye of time, but, nevertheless, after that much time, God came back to hell and said he was closing the universe down (for awhile) since he was ending time, more or less (for awhile). And so the poor man was told he would have to leave hell and perforce "Be-Who- He-Is, as he always knew He was, before he confused himself with the idea of time (this time) - the One True Self." But the poor man said, "Never," which, of course, is merely a word which exists within time. So God up and kissed him, and said "be illumined" and the poor man cried, then jumped, then started to follow, and God opened His arms to embrace him, saying, "my child, be awakened; achieve union with Me, your Own True Self" but, the poor man, suddenly remembering himself, pulled back and sat down on a hot and steaming hell- stone and frankly burned his astral posterior and exacerbated his astral rash. "I almost followed you right out of here," he said. "That's how tempting You are. But that's how I got into trouble in the first place -- by not following my religion. My religion said I have to go to hell forever because I did not believe in You on earth! I'll be damned if I will forget that and start following You now after it is too late! Now please, leave me alone." So the merciful God said, "alright, then stay," and the poor man did, and he lived happily ever after for all eternity, and then some, being damned as he was more or less literally almost for eternity in hell. He stayed there, suffering wondrously, being marvelously tormented, pridefully roasting in that malodorous, sweaty, hot place, with the half-acre all to himself. And just he in hell and God were alone now in the vast universe, and then one day he heard the voice of God saying: "I am, am I, who am I, I am, I, I, I, I am, I am, Am I, I am always, I, I, I am, I, I, eternal blissful I, fearless, I, of knowledge, no weakness, never, I am, needing no one, neither man, nor god, I am, no death, no birth, no heaven, no hell, no body, no time, I, I am, no one, nothing, never, only, I, I, I, world, time, mind, dissolve, and then I, I am, always, I, I am, always." And hearing this the poor man realized it was his own voice, and then he dissolved, absorbed into his own true Self and creation ended and all time stood still and then there was only the silence.