[ WP ] You are the oldest inhabitant of Hell . Even the Devil does n't know how long you 've been here . Denizens of Hell normally expect that the oldest sinner would be someone of pure evil , but in truth you 're actually a pretty chill dude .

'Uh, hey man. I'm, uh, Greg.' 
 
 He sat down next to the stranger at the last table in the corner of Hell's lunchroom. 
 
'So, uh, look, I'm new here... I do n't get that we eat *lunch*... is n't this meant to be damnation forever?' Greg asked. 
 
 The stranger looked at his orange juice thoughtfully, then decided not to say anything. 
 
'So, do you have a name? You been—' 
'You could n't pronounce my name even if you wanted to buddy. And to answer the second part, I've been here awhile.' The stranger took aim at his peas. 
 
 Greg played with the food on his tray too. Mashing the peas into the other vegetables, doing anything to try and wade out this awkwardness. 
 
'Just call me, Ben.' he finally said. 
 
'So, uh, Ben. What did you do? I mean you do n't seem bad, and I guess people mellow out—' 
 
 At that point a big uproar erupted from Satan's table. He was at the centre of a attention telling a story. His cronies were howling with laughter. He was on the table pretending to surf and smoke a bong at the same time. The Angel of Death was trying his best to keep his lunch in his mouth. 
 
'An' you know what I said to the Old Man? Fuck you dog's nuts! I do n't care if it was meant to be an ornamental plant, I'm smoking it!' 
 
 Everyone erupted with laughter again, as Satan proceeded to hang ten. 
 
'Fuckin' Lucy! He's such a pimple on your dick. You know he invented the whole high school hierarchy BS? It's true. He modelled it off of how he run's this ship here. He's an arse!' Ben took a stab at his mashed steak.'He's just ungrateful y'know? Anyways... 
'I been here too long Greg. What're you, like a couple days? You still look fresh. Satan has n't got to work on you yet, I'd take it?' 
 
'What? Satan'll work on me?!' Greg asked.'But, I was n't that bad! I do n't think? I was n't a believer really, I thought I'd get limbo. But—' 
 
'See, it's the really that gets you there. You were n't a believer *really*. Which in God's eyes means you were. And seeing as you were n't just caught in the wrong place wrong time yada yada spend your time in limbo etcetera, you *have* to come to hell. Satan, Ange, all the minions, they all do shift work. It's a shit bit, but hey, Sunday is normally a pretty good roast.' Ben finished. 
 
'But, are n't we meant to have done bad things? Like you, if you've been here for so long, does n't that mean you've done something bad?' Greg asked. 
 
'You do n't do the crime then do the time, buttwipe! It's eternity. *Eternity*. Did n't you read the book at least? It does n't matter what you do, you did it. You went against God. No second chance. If you do n't want to risk it, sit in your shitty room and pray all day. If you want the least bit of a tickle you got ta get out of the room. And soon as you're outside, pretty much everything you do, in context, can become a sin. That was my first wedge. So no, you do n't *have* to do anything bad to get hell. But you do n't have to do *anything* either. You had doubt. So that got *you* here. Where as the poor suds in Limbo just get magazines. No Sunday roast, Tuesday loaf, Thursday pancakes, or Fry Up Friesday. It's literally the same issue of *Moses Quarterly*' 
 
 Ben wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw it on the meal. 
 
'I'm sorry—' Greg began. 
 
'No you're not. No one is. Sorry gets you nowhere here. *That* is a dirty word. You can apologise all you want, but Ole Swamp Balls wo n't change his mind!' Ben said. 
 
'I'm sorry, who?' Greg asked. 
 
'You wan na know why I'm here, kid? I was God's partner. I helped him make *this*. All of it.' Greg shoved his meal back.'You think he could do it all in seven days? Sorry, `` six with one to rest''. Hell no he could. He was like a shitty architect that then contracted the work out to me. *I* did all the heavy lifting. *I* played the evolutionist, picking where to put you critters, and what to grow. I make one joke. One joke! On Sunday swampy Sunday, and I'm banished forever down here. I built this little dungeon for God, walked right into the trap. `` Last minute inspection'' he says, then shuts the door. I waited forever down here in the dark! Then after awhile, Lucy shows up. Thought I was the janitor or something. But he knew! He knew that if I was here, I *predated* him. So he kept his distance. Let the Lion roam his own cage. Do n't feed, do n't jib, do n't screw around with. Stay away!' 
 Ben got up from his seat and began to walk away. 
 
'But what do *I* do? I mean can I tag on with you?' Greg asked struggling to keep up. 
 Ben had been smaller at the table, but now he appeared to be in a larger form. His true form? Greg did n't know, but he wanted to find out. 
 Satan and his cronies fell silent as they walked past. They began to whisper. 
 
'Hey, uh, uh, Ben?' Satan asked.'The uh, fields of eternal ripping are closed today. For maintenance. So um, you know, you ca n't go there—' 
 
'Can do what I want when I want, Sacktan. I built this place, you just run it.' Ben said. 
 
 Greg was struggling to keep up with Ben as they left the hall, he seemed to grow bigger with each step. 
'You can do what ever you want, outside the hours of 8-5. You'll get ripped into, then lunch, then re-ripped. After that, you can do what ever. You'll find a place though. Most start out camping, but you'll learn to roomie up with some of the minions on low wage. There's an apartment complex in the North. 
 They passed admin and emerged out of the building. A sign post directed the waves of souls around the domain. 
 Ben was looking over the crowd of heads and searching into the distance. 
 
'Hey did you get a token when you arrived? A call token? They were giving them out for a while awaysback. You had one call back to the living world to who ever you wanted. Anytime, anyplace, kinda dealy? You get one?' Ben asked earnestly. 
 
'You mean this?' Greg said producing a clear talisman from his pocket. 
 
'Nah, that's just your holiday token. Everyone gets an allocated four weeks off each century. When that bad boy turns purple, you'll be allowed to have some time off. It's cool.' Ben kicked at the dirt. 
 
'Who'd you wan na call? Did you have friend's other than God?' Greg asked. 
 
'Do n't worry man, I've already used mine this year. See, Gboss still gives me some respite, even though we're not talking, he let's me call someone each year. A little chinwag—' 
 
'Who do *you* call?' Greg asked. 
 
'Well, it's easy ai n't it? My nephew. Cheeses Crisp.' 
 Ben laughed at his own joke and walked off towards the fields of eternal ripping. 
 
'You coming or what?' he yelled back.'We got some farts to rip!'
