[ WP ] You have been sent to hell . But hell is a shining utopia because of humans `` ruining '' it .

“ Oohh harder! ” she screamed out, “ Yeah like that! ” 
 
 “ What the fuck, ” the imp-like devil said with his pointed-tail down low. 
 
 “ Come on, don ’ t stop, ” she said, “ This is your job remember? ” 
 
 I don ’ t even know what I ’ m watching. So there ’ s a lady chained to the wall, via shackles around her wrists and ankles, and a little devil—*imp thing*—that is flogging her with some sort of tool. She ’ s just encouraging him to keep hitting her—like that would somehow be preferable. 
 
 “ Hey buddy, ” I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around. 
 
 “ Yeah *you*, genius, how would you like to buy a free go on the *Hell Train*? ” a sharp looking man said in his slightly burnt, and *still burning in some places*, red suit. 
 
 “ What are you? Are you like the devil? ” I say to him. 
 
 He just starts laughing erratically. 
 
 “ Okay, so you ain ’ t so bright. I ’ m just a regular fella looking to make some head way, ” he says after collecting himself, “ So whaddya ’ say? ” he closes with a grin and flick of the eyebrows. 
 
 “ Uhh… Ok, so, what exactly is this ‘ *hell train* ’? ” I ask him. 
 
 “ What ’ re you new here? Here I thought you was a regular. Well damn, ” he pauses to think with his hand on his chin, “ It ’ s tough to explain. It ’ s better if I just show you, yeah? ” 
 
 Before I could answer him, he puts his arm around my shoulder and the next thing I know we ’ re going for a stroll. 
 
 “ You ’ re gon na be *right* at home, ” he tells me. 
 
 The place is massive. For as far as the eyes can see there appears to be no visible end: there is only a distant horizon, a *vanishing point*, as if hell was its own planet. I can ’ t tell if we ’ re outside or not, mainly because there is no sun above us, as there is only a red sky-ish void that stretches upwards for what seems like forever. There are strange looking structures and buildings sitting everywhere. Some places are burning, or *implied to be* burning with flashy signs and flame decals that to try to draw you towards them, but beyond that there appears to be great variety to hell ’ s architecture. The streets are bustling with movement, as hell ’ s devils and denizens move about in all directions. 
 
 As we continue along the path between the myriad of stores and street vendors, we pass a fountain of molten lava. We walked too closely past it that part of the guy ’ s suit gets singed off, but he seems unscathed. 
 
 “ Woaahh, ” he darts out, “ That kinda hurt… I likey. ” 
 
 “ What about your suit? ” I say to him. 
 
 “ This thing? Oh, this piece of cloth is just for show. I can get myself anotha ’ easily, ” he assures me, “ I mean, look at you. You ’ re not even wearing anything. ” 
 
 Shit, he ’ s right. I am butt-naked right now, how did I not notice this earlier? And nobody we passed seemed to take notice. He took notice of my concern. 
 
 “ Nobody wants to see your dong, pal. Relax, where we ’ re goin ’ ain ’ t no one need any silly thing like clothes, ” he goes on, “ Well, except me of course but that ’ s ‘ cause it ’ s part of the business. ” 
 
 We bump through many different kinds of people, dressed in all fathomable manners as it becomes clear to me that we are nearing our destination. Not too far ahead I can see a massive line of people all in nothing but their birthday suits—they ’ re waiting for something. 
 
 “ This—this is where we part, ” he says as he gestures towards the grand line of people with his arm, “ Take this. Don ’ t lose it, ” he hands me a piece of laminated paper. 
 
 I held it out in front of me to try to read what it said, but it ’ s written in some strange language I can ’ t understand. 
 
 “ It ’ s French. ” 
 
 “ It doesn ’ t look like French, ” I say back to him. 
 
 “ Well, ‘ cause it ’ s not. Just keep your mouth shut and enjoy the ride— ” 
 
 “ What ride? ” I ask him. 
 
 “ What did I just say? ” with a flick of his wrist a piece of parchment appears in his hand, “ If you would, please sign right here, ” he says, and with another flick a pen appears in his other hand. 
 
 “ I ’ ll have to pass. ” 
 
 “ No, no, no. Just read it, it ’ s perfectly reasonable, ” he holds the contract out in front me and waits for me to take it. 
 
 I grab it and quickly begin to skim through it—it ’ s written in that language, *French* I believe, that I can ’ t understand. 
 
 “ I ’ m not French. ” 
 
 “ It ’ s not French, jackass. Just sign at the bottom, ” he hands me the pen. 
 Reluctantly, I sign. I look around me as I expect something unfortunate to happen. But nothing happens whatsoever. 
 
 “ You look like you just saw a ghost, ” he laughs, “ Well, you have been kinda ‘ ghosts ’ the whole time but we ’ re all of a different sort. I mean you ’ re one of us too, yeah? Anyway, you ’ re good to go, ” he snaps his fingers and a set of clothes appears in left hand, “ Alright pal, snap with your right hand to put the clothes on. ” 
 
 I snap and the next thing you know I ’ m suddenly wearing a suit, pants, and a shiny pair of shoes. 
 
 “ Snap with your left to take it off, ” he goes on. 
 
 “ I can ’ t snap with my left. ” 
 
 He begins to massage his temples with his hand—I think I ’ m stressin ’ him out. He snaps again and a new parchment appears. 
 
 “ Sign at the bottom. You know the drill, ” he tells me. 
 
 “ Uhhh, what is this? ” 
 
 “ Your mouth is moving—your mouth should not be moving. Just sign it, I ’ ve adjusted it to suit your disabilities. ” 
 
 “ What disabilities? ” I ask him in an offended tone. 
 
 “ Just sign it. ” 
 
 I sign and then *poof*, both contracts vanish in thin air. I look at the pen, waiting for it to disappear as well. 
 
 “ You can keep that, ” he says, “ Actually, no I could use an extra more than you, ” he takes the pen from me and puts it in his pocket. 
 
 “ What was the contract for? ” I ask. 
 
 “ Clap once to put the clothes on. Clap twice really quickly to take them off, ” he pauses to make sure I follow what he ’ s saying, “ You *can* clap can ’ t ya? ” 
 
 “ Yes. ” 
 
 “ Good, now wait in line. And thank me later—that free pass was not easy to get. ” 
 
 I stand there and stare at him for a second, dumbfounded. He gestures towards the end of the line and I turn over to look. It seems there are even more naked people, of all shapes, colors, and sizes, waiting now to get to whatever lies at the front. I turn back around and the man in the suit has vanished. 
 
 “ Damn, ” I say out loud, as I walk over to the line. 
 
 A couple hours must have passed, but eventually I reach the front. As it turns out, the line was *much longer* than I had thought. It is actually somewhat surprising that I reached the front as fast I did. I ’ m here now and in front of me is one hell of a sight to behold. I stand at the gates of coliseum. 
 
 “ Wait right there, buddy, ” a man wearing strange leather garments with studs says to me, “ You have a pass? ” 
 
 I hand him the pass that I got earlier. 
 
 “ Okay, follow that line, ” he says pointing to another line that led around the outside of the coliseum, away from the massive main gate. 
 
 “ What is this about? ” 
 
 “ What? Just go, shoo, ” he says signaling me away. 
 
 I wait on the other line and soon enough I make my way inside some sort of fitting room filled with people. Someone makes their way over to me and asks me some strange questions about my sexual preferences and past experiences. I answer her as best as I can. She puts me into some strange leather gear that includes some sort of *red ball* that must be fitted into my mouth. She then hands me a baton-like thing. I guess I ’ m fighting? 
 
 A short period of time passes involving waiting on benches further within the coliseum. Then a man that looks like a guard gestures for me and I ’ m escorted to a large inner gate that was reached by passing through several hallways. There ’ s light piercing through the cracks between the doors. 
 
 “ You ’ re up, ” the guard says, “ Have fun, see your next life, ” he says calmly. 
 
 “ What the fuck does that mean? ” I ask him in a shocked voice. 
 
 “ Don ’ t be a coward, ” he pushes me toward the gate as it begins to open. 
 
 My mind is blown by what I witness. There is a sea of people in the center ring of the coliseum, a large ring to say the least, wearing all sorts of attire that I had assumed were battle uniforms. In their hands were what I had assumed to be weapons. Before I could process what was going on, I get pushed into the fray. Then I participated in the largest orgy I ’ ve ever seen. 
 
 After spending much more time in heaven, I mean *hell*, I ’ ve come to learn much about this place. It ’ s hard to imagine what this burning damnation was once like, but I understand now that human beings have learned to manipulate hell ’ s machinations to suit their needs. One man ’ s pain is another ’ s pleasure. Through a series of ingenious exchanges, the cruel fates doled out to hell ’ s denizens were traded for more suitable ones. Those that liked to fight would receive the punishments that involved fighting—in place of those that initially received those punishments. The idea follows similarly for every other sin and vice imaginable. 
 
 Man, I *really* need to thank that guy. 

