Friday, October 06, 2006

The Afterlife Sucks

First of all, I have to get on the damn plane to Egypt again, and put up with Dr Fate moaning and bitching and constantly asking the stewardess for extra peanuts because he thinks the bags are too small again, and then I have to crawl knee-deep in filth through all manner of caverns measureless to man again, and then when I finally cross the threshold of the infinite and reach the depths of perdition itself, who's the first person I end up meeting?

Barry Allen.

Jesus Christ, I was hoping I'd never have to run into him again, and of course the first words out of his mouth are "Has everybody on the satellite been keeping to the dishwashing rota I put up on the noticeboard?"

No "Hi, Ralph!" or "Hey, what brings you to the dismal regions of damned souls, Ralph?" or "Long time no see, Ralph, let's sink a few down by the Well Of Eternal Sorrow!" No, he's yammering away at me about who's washing the dishes. All right, Barry, one, the satellite got blown up so no dishes will be washed there in the forseeable future, and two, you're dead. I assume you have your own problems right now.

If that wasn't rude enough, then the asshole starts yammering on at me about interesting facts he's learned about the physics down here. That's another thing he did when he was alive - if you were draining the main vein and he walked in on you, he wouldn't think twice about going right up to you, leaning into your face, and telling all about how the Deer Mouse has no collarbone, which means that it can flatten its body so much that it can squeeze into an opening one quarter of an inch high. Imagine listening to that while you're trying to empty your bladder, or worse yet, your bowels. I'll never forget the time I was trying to crimp one out and he vibrates the molecules of his face through the door of the stall so he can let me know some ridiculous factoid about how long you can run a 100-watt lightbulb on chicken feces. Gee, thanks, Barry! I'm especially glad that you stared at my dangling junk while you told me that, with an expression on your face that lingered halfway between concern and open criticism. How can I thank you enough?

And he's late for everything. Not in a protecting-my-secret-identity way, or a sorry-didn't-notice-the-time way - he's late for everything because he thinks it's wonderfully amusing. He'll walk in fifteen minutes after the movie starts with this smug 'Isn't it funny that I'm the Flash and I'm always late' grin, make some pitiful excuse to any poor schmoe who isn't in on his stupid-assed secret identity, and then turn around and wink at you. Because yeah, he's totally disrupted everyone's plans and made a complete nuisance of himself, but heaven forbid that you don't find it hilariously ironic. I bet that's the main reason he's in Hell. That and the time he killed that dude.

Also he owes me $4.77 from a poker game. I firmly believe that the reason he went into the future and lived in the 30th century for a while was so he didn't have to pay me that back.

I hate him and I wish he was dead. Even more dead.

Anyway, him and Dr Fate are talking at each other now at tedious length about whether there's a scientific reason why I'm such an utter, utter bitch, so that gives me time to blog. I couldn't manage it yesterday, but now we seem to be in one of those Hells that mirror the real world, because that's really ironic that Hell should be just like the capitalist world that we have made for ourselves, do you see? So I've found an internet cafe, although it's ten dollars for half an hour which is ridiculous. That's Hell for you, I suppose.

1 Comments:

Blogger Detective Chimp said...

Yeah, well, suck it up Dibny. Be a man, after all one of us gots to be. Just fricking toss the helmet into the atlantic, or find a dimensional gap, and toss him at an alternate him or something equally as inane.

As for the video, well, ya just ain't gonna get it back. Ever.

I recorded over it, what did I record? Chimpette's Gone Wild: The Uncensored Version. Yeah. Mmmhmm, well, maybe at the next Croatoa meeting, I'll toss ya the money I owe ya, if I'm sober enough to remember, of course.

Anyways, I'm gonna go sling a few back with Blue Devil, oh, by the way, went to the fifteenth level of the awkward quarter of the afterlife, Sue and Booster say hi. They've got a duplex together, btw.

12:33 AM  

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