[ WP ] You are a street vendor in Hell where you deal in its most valuable commodity , water . Walk us through an average day in your life .

I dunno how the fuck I got here, so do n't ask that. 
 
 I tried to live my life as best as I could. God knows ( literally ) I tried. And yet, here I am. It could be worse. I could be worried about Earthly things like lost love and whether I remembered to feed the fish before work. I do n't have to obsess over that shit anymore. 
 
 Another thing: the folks back home got it wrong. Lucifer is the ultimate rebel. The pedantic little misdemeanors, they're the ones who get it the worst. Johnny over there in the corner? He stole paper clips from work. Fabrice? Used the company emergency contact list to get the phone numbers of female co-workers. All petty shit. 
 
 I'd say ask them about it, but they lost their tongues years ago. 
 
 The Gacys, the Pol Pots, the Bushes of the world... they live in the penthouse. Lucy does have a sense of humor after all. Which is why I, the man who died of a nasty bladder infection, am a water salesman. 
 
 Well, salesman is a bit of a stretch. Water is a precious thing here. Here, you ca n't die of thirst. You suffer on and on as if you were dehydrated to the point of death, but never farther than that. It's horrible, but I've grown used to it. The most fucked up thing, however, is what they take for currency here. 
 
 To buy an 8 ounce bottle of water here, you have to give up a memory. Oh, I forgot to mention that everyone remembers everything they did in the past. 
 
 I told you it was fucked up. 
 
 Of course, there are some memories that you do n't want to keep. Those are the first to go. But after a while, you start running out of the bad stuff. Then, it's on to the primary school years. Finally, when you reach the end of your rope, it's the first kiss. That time you and your first real love did a bunch of shrooms and then took a road trip to a town in bum-fuck nowhere on a whim. The time you built a blanket fort in the kitchen because you were bored and out of pot. The first time she said `` I love you.'' The names of your kids. Your wife's name. 
 
 Your own. 
 
 I get a share of the water, of course. I ca n't exactly do anything with memories from people I do n't even know, so aqua is my payment. Sometimes, I even get to chill and smoke a blunt with Hitler and Martha Stewart in the penthouse. It could be a lot worse. 
 
 But even I have needs. Water is n't the only thing for sale. You can buy pretty much anything down here. Emotional support, that's the stuff I crave. I've got Dr. Phil and Oprah cheering me on every day of my life, telling me that living out eternity in damnation is n't so bad. Lucy's their boss, of course, so they take from me and render unto Caesar. Not literally, though. 
 
 Caesar is getting rendered enough as it is. 
 
 Anyway, that's a day in my new life. I do n't have to sleep anymore, and time is n't really a thing either, so I say `` day'' but... it's hard to explain. You'd really have to be here to understand. I pay my dues every damn `` day,'' I know that much. Unfortunately, I've forgotten how long I've been here. I've forgotten what I've given up for someone to pat me on the back and tell me it'll be all right. I've forgotten who you are or why I'm talking to you. 
 
 So please, do n't ask how the fuck I got here. 
 
 I do n't remember.
