[ WP ] A Man dies and expects to go either Heaven or Hell , only to be told by an Angel that he already was in Hell and now his punishment is over

`` Uh-uh. Yeah, buddy. Well, you know what, fuck you too. Next.'' The bloke clutching the cockel-spaniel took his stamped passport and filed out towards a rather impressive baggage reclaim, proceeded to ignore it entirely and wandered to a distant `` Nothing to Declare'' sign so cursive it deserved it's own gallery. 
 The balding border guard reckoned he'd achieved a new level of indifference as he waved her over. He'd screamed'next' twelve-thousand times this morning and he'd be damned to Mundus if he had to bloody well say it again. It always dawned on him right about now, during his mid-morning brood why it could n't be all automated. He could do with a bloody coffee, or a nap, why not both. The girl was still standing, in the wrong place past the yellow line the savage; as usual, another supposedly lost soul saved from damnation. 
 
 The shivering specimen in question was currently petrified. She would've liked a spaniel, maybe a pomeranian, anything cute to distract her aetherial gatekeeper from what would surely be a swift judgement followed by barbecue. She had n't imagined St.Peter would literally be at the gates. Damn. If only she'd finished reading `` 11 tips in border security for asylum-seekers'' on the toilet last week. Part of her wished she'd gone to church, or at least brushed up on the dialect. Maybe a confession would've been appropriate, or maybe describing her job would only give the priest rather an unwanted hard trouser-dachshund of his own. Either way it was too late now, and much too late to wear some more, umm, conservative afterlife clothing. 
 
 She'd had a moment to think about it all in the queue, death and all that, but swiftly arrived at the conclusion that she was glad there was at least something after death. It certainly beat crushing unexistence any day. Oh God ( s? ) what if this was the wrong religion, or a sect or something? She took one last look around for potential racist stereotypes she could cling onto. Nothing. Everyone was here, and all she guessed were in their 20's. Her boobs had n't looked this good for at least a decade on the other side, that's for sure. No children though, oddly. They must be processed separately. Her border guard had passed through disgust, to mild amazement and now cycled back through to a solid glare. She musted up the courage and tried to hop to the counter. 
 
 `` Um..good, er..evening, your holiness?'' 
 
 `` Oh for fuc- you know what, if you're going to do that schtick again, I'm just going to send you right the hell back there.'' 
 
 `` What? Oh Go-I mean, I'm sorr-'' 
 
 `` Just state your name''. 
 
 `` Cassandra J. Hewitt'' 
 
 `` Year of death?'' 
 
 `` Excuse me?'' 
 
 `` My holy ass is going to throttle you if you do n't answer, and then you'll be the one filling out the papers on how you've got a one-way ticket back for both of us, I swear.'' 
 
 `` Back to Earth?'' 
 
 `` Where else, idiot. You think Dante's going to show up and take you to the other six?'' 
 
 `` Never mind. 2016. July the tenth.'' 
 
 `` Mhmm. Yep that's right. You got parole at thirty-three. Congratulations. They're getting stricter and stricter with the controls, what with the antibiotics and the cancer ther...'' 
 
 `` Parole?'' Her border guard sighed. She wondered if it was St.Peter after all. 
 
 `` Okay. Fine. I'm going to pretend I have n't answered this question at least like ten-thousand times today.'' 
 
 `` Excuse me?'' 
 
 `` Did you or did you not read the landing card and orientation booklet?'' 
 
 `` What, the prison advert?'' 
 
 `` For the love of Beelzebub's steamy asshole, yes, the orientation booklet''. The guard was whispering now, as if her mere presence was painful. 
 
 `` No. I did n't.'' 
 
 `` Alright. Well then. Welcome back, let's hope you can continue being a good girl and make your way up and put this episode behind you. Not I nor anyone takes any responsibility for any and all fiendish deeds done to you during your stay in hell.'' 
 
 `` Hell? No. I was alive. On Earth.'' 
 
 `` Yes. Correct, and we're not liable for any of the torture, except maybe the rape, oh and the bronies. Yeah, you might want to sue for those two being in there.'' He finished listing the potential goldmines for compensation with a flourish and proceeded to stamp a small, black leather passport. 
 
 `` Right. You've been approved for return to the Overworld. You'll like it, especially someone with, well, your profession. Let's say I did n't recognize you at first. There's good reality TV in there, your kind of videos too, you know, from an actual reality this time. Okay, shoo. Next!'' 
 
 Cass barely had time to grip the passport. She tried to hold back the tears as she walked shell-shocked past `` emotional baggage re-claim'' and tried to find her satchel, only to realize she was already holding it. For a moment she considered tossing it like so many others onto the rotating catherine-wheel of a pile, be done with the pain of the old. But no, there was a world awaiting behind those cursive letters of `` nothing to declare'' that just would n't be the same without its brown leather full of suffering. She slung it over a shoulder and wondered who, if anyone, had called her a taxi.
