Friday, October 13, 2006

Hell Is Other People If Those People Are Named Dr Robert Amersham Willis

So anyway, no progress has been made on the Pilgrimage, unless you count Dr Fate progressing from a full-on screaming fit on Sunday to making sarcastic comments just out of my earshot yesterday and generally refusing to budge a single inch until I apologise for what I did. Whatever that was. He won't tell me, he just says "Oh, you know" and then floats away to glare at me from a distance.

So I've been mostly hanging around in the coffee shops of Ironic Hell, which are just like regular coffee shops. I mean exactly like. The prices are the same, the staff are the same and the coffee tastes the same - I think the afterlife has possibly become too ironic at this point. I mean, sure, coffee shops are expensive and the staff are often very sullen, and sometimes the coffee is bad and they're part of a nebulous chain and occasionally you have beat poetry, but just changing the name to 'Hellbucks' and then putting tiny little horns on the sulky coffee girl is just so... so utterly lame. I mean, where exactly is the punishment here? Am I supposed to be agonised for the rest of time by the sheer Mad Magazine-ness of it all? Is the reminder of a jillion terrible stand-up comedy routines that totally had this joke in them supposed to drive me mad with ennui or what? They do hazelnut coffee, so maybe this is all a set-up for somebody who's allergic to hazelnuts and they'll keep accidentally getting his order wrong for all eternity or something.

Anyway, I was just wondering about the punishment factor when Dr Willis showed up. So under the circumstances I don't think anybody can blame me for screaming "Get thee behind me, changeling of Satan!" and attacking him with a chair. It's what Jesus would have done. That and be crucified or something.

Bizarrely, it turned out that this was the real Dr Willis. Since I haven't been replying to my comments lately (and that is a Hell thing, the computers here mostly don't let me so I can be more easily enraged and frustrated by the parade of idiocy) he'd come to check on me and see if I was okay and still taking my meds.

In Hell.

He's obsessed. Let it go, Dr Willis. I'm taking my pink pills, I'm dealing with the death of my wife in a perfectly reasonable and legitimate fashion i.e. journeying into the depths of the realms beyond life to have a chat and possibly get some coffee together, I'm not attacking people randomly any more unless they're you. Your job is done, Dr Willis. These are not billable hours and even if they were I wouldn't pay you.

As it turns out, it's not that bizarre after all, since there's a doorway to the heart of the inferno located in Star City - Pentagram City more like - and it's just behind the adult bookstore on 7th avenue. Actually, I guess that is bizarre when you think about it. Anyway, there's a doorway to Hell there. They don't advertise it in the guidebooks because... well, it's Hell. Not even a particularly good Hell, just this crappy ironic one where everything's pretty much the same. Anyway, I was fairly angry that I flew all the way to Egypt - twice - and then crawled through a cavern of sinister evil and descended an infinite stairway of dread and all that business with the demon tied up with its own naked body that I still don't want to think about and I've been in the afterlife for two or three weeks now doing absolutely nothing... and I could have just walked through a door behind a porno theatre? I tell you, I could have killed Dr Willis when he told me, but if I had he'd probably just turn up in exactly the same spot. So I didn't. I left him down there trying desperately to flirt with the damned spirit of Emily Dickinson. I'll probably head back in a couple of days if I can be bothered.

Right now, though, I'm back in my lovely, warm, non-Dr-Fate-inhabited apartment catching up on Studio 60. Disappointingly, that's another thing that was exactly the same in Hell as it is here. I figured the fact that this week's episode didn't have an ending was some kind of Hell thing, but it turns out it's not, and neither was the Gilbert and Sullivan business. Go figure.

3 Comments:

Blogger Green Arrow said...

The place on 7th Avenue? Cuffs'n'Stuff? I had no idea!

2:47 AM  
Blogger Ralph Dibny said...

No, there's a chain-link fence behind Cuffs'n'Stuff - this is Countdown To Infinite Vices, just next to the all-night deli.

8:18 AM  
Blogger Detective Chimp said...

Oh, huh, I've been there. S'owned by Traci Thirteen isn't it?...Or was that...oh never mind. Still, interesting, 'Ironic Hell' I'll have to take a trip there someday.

Maybe there your video still exists unerased, so I can get out of paying your ex-rubbery ass next time you manage to pull yourself off a coach and attend a freakin' meeting.

11:42 PM  

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