Sure, he was a bastard. Joe lived his whole apathetic life to serve no master other than himself. He walked all over anyone who somehow managed to find it in their heart to care for him. He thought less of his closest friends than he did of the average jackass off of the street; whom, as he constantly reminded anyone who could bare to listen, he loathed with such ferocity that he was made physically ill just at the thought of interacting with that whole lot of dullards. The lives of the few women that actually came to care for and even love him were eventually emotionally scarred in a way far more bizarre and permanent than any upbringing in the household of a stepfather with dirty thoughts could inflict. Hence, it could easily be said that Joe Shmoe was a bastard.

Joe was certainly never a wealthy man, not by any interpretation of the word. Not that he lacked intelligence, but he despised the world with such a passion that he could rarely bring himself to attempt to venture out into it so as to make anything of himself. He preferred to sit back, deep in his hovel and look down upon civilization, festering in the enormity of his hatred. Even those that by some means managed to enter his tiny circle of friends, Joe secretly loathed for those possessions, abilities, skills, and ideas that they possessed which he did not.

Joe was by no means whatsoever a religious man. As far as he was concerned, any attempt to explain the universe in which he lived was a complete and utter waste of time and energy. “You live out your pathetic existence of a life, do what you’ve got to do, and then you die. And that’s It.” was his philosophy of life. Joe reviled most of all those wretched humans who chose to take solace in the warm womb of religion. He found them to be the weakest, most pathetic examples of humanity, so afraid of death that they never even bother to live, wasting their lives away calling out to something they know is not there.

“Carpe Diem!” was Joe’s motto, and Joe certainly seized the day. Joe made sure to experience life to the fullest. If he were to be bothered to do something, he would make damn sure to do it to the most extreme that it could be done. Considering his means, Joe lived a life of gluttony and hedonism that even Caligula would find hard to imagine.

So obviously, it was not a surprise that no one gave a damn when Joe died. Those few people that did show up at his funeral were there for no other reason than to dance on his grave. The only tears that were shed were tears of joy at the demise of this dreadful excuse for a human being, quickly followed by extended discussion of what a bastard Joe had been. By the time the short service had ended, the place was already empty of so-called mourners. The gravediggers buried Joe’s body quietly and quickly. When they had finally packed down the last of the dirt, that was the last time anyone in this earthly realm gave thought of Joe Shmoe.

·

When Joe opened his eyes, he was still somewhat disoriented from having just passed away.

It took him a long moment to come to the realization that he had been shackled to a colossal, jagged rock and that there was a rather menacing looking demon standing before him, staring him in the face. It took him another moment to become aware of the countless other souls strapped and shackled to boulders, the ground, bizarre devices, and mammoth stalactites that hung down from out of nowhere. Amazingly, each soul had its own personal demon, inflicting horrors and atrocities that were inconceivable of in the real world. Fire burst from every nook and cranny, crack and crag. It was everything Joe had ever imagined Hell to be like, and Joe had quite an imagination.

“What is this? Am I dreaming? This is unreal!” Joe asked, more to himself than to the demon.

“What do you think this is, Joe Shmoe?! This is Hell!” the demon pronounced in a booming voice, leaning in close so that Joe could feel the warm moisture of its awful breath as it shot across his face.

“That’s ridiculous. I know damn well, there is no such thing as Heaven or Hell. Come on now! I have more interesting things to dream about than this bullshit!” Joe declared, trying to take control of this overly excessive nightmare. Nevertheless, to his annoyance, nothing changed and the demon leaned in close again.

“Joe Shmoe, you have lived a life wrought with sin! You will be punished for all of eternity for your transgressions against your fellow man, and against nature itself! You will know terror and you will repent!” the demon roared, brandishing a horrible looking whip and hovering its massive grip millimeters from Joe’s upturned nose.

“Well, do what you’ve got to do, then. Any second now, you’re going to transform into a sexy dominatrix succubus and this dream is going to start getting a whole lot better!” Joe Chuckled. The demon snarled and drew back. It began lashing at Joe’s exposed body, each blow stinging more than the last. “Jesus! That really hurts!” Joe shrieked, “What the fuck?!”

The demon paused and then spoke, “I assure you, Joe Shmoe, this is no dream. There is indeed a Heaven… and a Hell, although you need only be concerned with the latter. It is your destiny to suffer here for all eternity. Agony and regret are all that will consist of the rest of your existence!”

As the demon spoke, more and more Joe slowly started to entertain the notion that this might not actually be a dream. As this grim realization dawned upon him, water started to swell up in Joe’s eyes. By the time the demon was through speaking, Joe had tears streaming down his face.

“So… what you’re saying is… I’m… truly… dead?”

“I am certain.”

“And there… actually is an afterlife? My soul is eternal?!”, Joe cried.

“Yes, and you will exist in constant agony and regret in this place for all of eternity.” the demon laughed.

“Oh my God!” Joe exclaimed, “I was wrong. I was wrong!”

To the demons amazement Joe began to laugh excitedly.

“Thank God! Thank fucking God! I was wrong!!” he cried into the sky.

“Why do you laugh? Do you not realize the gravity of your situation?” the demon howled.

“What situation?” Joe cried, “My situation couldn’t be better. I was wrong! I’m alive. I am still alive! What else matters?”

Infuriated by this wretched human’s rantings, the demon lashed Joe furiously causing large welts to appear across the surface of his body.

“Oh God! Oh fucking God! The pain is real! I was wrong. I still exist! Jesus fucking Christ, I was wrong!”, Joe shouted out with tears in his eyes.

“Do you repent Joe Shmoe? Do you realize now the suffering that is your fate?” the demon asked.

“Suffering? All I’ve ever known is suffering and pain.” Joe replied. “The only pleasure I’ve ever known came from knowing that I was alive. The only fear I’ve ever known is of death and ceasing to exist. Now I know that my soul is eternal! What else do I have to fear?”

“You have an abundance to fear, mortal! You have the wrath of all of Hell, itself cast over your soul, sinner!” the demon proclaimed, and with his exclamation came great fires that singed Joe’s hair and burned his skin. The pain was unlike anything Joe had ever experienced in his life.

“Shit!” he yelled out, wincing at the pain. Yet, the burning did not trouble him for long. “It feels good to be alive! Yeah!” he chuckled, taunting the demon. The flames grew even bigger and the demon began whipping him once again. Suddenly, Joe began to laugh hysterically out of control.

By this point, Joe’s insurrection had started to draw the attention of the surrounding torturers and torturees. Joe would not stop his uncontrollable laughter and his demon was becoming infuriated. Eventually, some of the other demons left their victims to cower, walking over to lend Joe’s demon a hand. They began to poke, prod, and cut where his own demon was not already thrashing away. Nonetheless, Joe continued to laugh.

·

After what would be fairly the equivalent of a few weeks of more and more elaborate

torture that resulted in only more and more uncontrollable laughter, the demons were in a quandary. No matter what method of torment they tried, this impudent human took the utmost pleasure, as though he were not even aware of the pain and was taunting them. Their own prey were even beginning to mock them. Was this man some kind of masochist the likes of which they had never seen before, or had he been driven completely mad at the realization that he had chosen to live the wrong path and now would suffer eternally for his choice? Whatever the case, they were at their wits end and decided that it would be worth the personal risk to present this enigma to their lord and master.

The long journey was made and they finally crossed the River Cocyths bringing Joe to Lucifer’s citadel. They waited for the massive bone gates to open before them and entered the lair of the master of all of Hell. The group made its way down the giant corridors until they were outside of the Beast’s throne room. Joe’s personal demon disappeared inside and shortly reappeared at the door, beckoning Joe to enter.

Beelzebub sat in a grand and horrid throne made from bones and corpses and skin and sinew. “Ah, so this is the mortal that has been stirring up so much trouble for my little demons. He does not look so dangerous.” This was true, Joe’s body was scarred beyond recognition. He had been burned, stabbed, cut, bitten, beaten, stretched, frozen, clawed at, chopped at, chewed on, and flayed. However, Joe was still smiling. “Come talk with me, Joe Shmoe. Let us see how much you enjoy an encounter with the Prince of Darkness. Leave us demon!” And so the demon scurried out of the room and the great door closed.

All around the chamber were chasmic, fiery pits from which Joe could hear the screams and moans of his fellow sinners. The Devil sat up high in the center of the room. Joe stumbled his way to the steps before Satan’s Throne. He looked up and spoke, “So you’re real too, huh? Wow! You’re exactly as I imagined you would be. Well then, I guess… it’s an honor to make your acquaintance!” and he bowed his head to the Lord of Evil.

“Silence, sinner! Why is it that no matter what horrors my demons might inflict upon your soul you refuse to suffer and are always content no matter how appalling your condition?”

Joe reflected a moment, taken aback by Lucifer’s directness and then answered, “Don’t you see? My only true fear in the world was the thought of ceasing to exist. However, being a realist, I could never allow myself to believe in anything blindly, so I could not bring myself to believe what I couldn’t see. Because I could not believe that I would continue to exist after death, I lived my entire life in constant fear. I didn’t even know the source of that fear until… after I died!

“But none of that even matters now. I was wrong. I was so very wrong! This soul of mine is eternal. I have nothing to fear now. You can do whatever the fuck you want with me. So what? You can’t destroy my soul! As all the demons have constantly reminded me, this so called suffering will go on for eternity, which means that I will exist for eternity, and I don’t think you guys can destroy a soul!

“Even if it means suffering, then that’s fine with me. I’m human! We’re made to suffer. In fact, we live for it! But now, I’m so happy just to be alive that all this torment and supposed anguish is all just a minor inconvenience. As long as I exist, I have my imagination. As long as I have that, there is nothing you can do to bring me down!”

“So you say, Joe Shmoe. There is nothing I can do?” the Devil spoke with anger in his voice. “It is indeed true that our Creator has seen fit to imbue each and every of his creations with a living and eternal soul. Thus, you are undeniably correct in your assumption that your soul will continue to exist for all of eternity. However, I believe you are quite wrong in your second assumption. You will come to know pain and suffering. You will beg me to bring it to an end, just like all the rest. I will without a doubt ‘bring you down’!

“Do you see these pits surrounding this room? They go on for eternity, just like your soul; the deeper they go, the hotter their fires burn. Eventually, what you pitiful humans still perceive of, even in this realm, as a ‘body’ will be obliterated. Even so, do not be concerned; as you have so rightly guessed, you will continue to exist, first in ashes, then in particles. Eventually the pain will be so intense that your soul will loose its ability to hold together any material coherence, leaving you to exist only as thought, only as pure consciousness, the whole time falling deeper and deeper burning ever more. And best of all, I will be able to hear your screams the whole time, for the rest of eternity. Only those that truly invoke my rage suffer this destiny. This will be your fate if you anger me any further, man who believes he has discovered Heaven in Hell!”

“But don’t you see,” Joe replied, “none of that matters. I will still be alive. I will still be free to pursue whatever notions I choose. I will still have my imagination. I have nothing to fear.”

And with that, the Prince of Darkness waved his hand casting Joe into the nearest pit. Lucifer waited and waited to hear Joe’s shrieks of agony, but all he heard was laughter and shouts of joy. As he fell and slowly faded into thin air, Joe laughed and laughed to himself, for he was infinite and alive. And for the rest of eternity, Old Scratch sits there in his throne, waiting for the day that Joe’s infernal laughter turns to screams.