[ WP ] After leaving the mortal world you find that Hell looks suspiciously like Los Angeles International Airport .

Falling from a 20 storey drop isn ’ t what you ’ d think it ’ d be. As I stood on the ledge and looked out at the skyline, hyperventilating and desperately reminding myself how my misery and ill fortune had driven me to this, I didn ’ t find myself savouring the beauty of the last moments of my life or even having a panoramic flashback of my pitiful existence. All I could think about was whether I would hear the splat as my body hit the pavement below. I pictured my head being piledriven into the concrete and exploding like a hurled tomato, my torso crumpling as my bones splintered into sharp little fragments which shot out through my skin like shrapnel. I could see the pool of stagnating gore in my mind, almost taste the coppery tang of my own blood in the air as pedestrians formed a circle around my unrecognizably mangled corpse and drivers slowed down to rubberneck. 
 
 I began to ask myself – is it worth it? Sure, my life was shitty, but no shittier than half the goddamn country. There were single moms whoring themselves out to feed their kids, veterans who shot themselves with their service pistols after seeing all their friends blown to pieces in Afghanistan, and I couldn ’ t forget all the poor starving kids in Africa, twiggy limbs with bellies unnaturally distended as their paltry meals of grubs and tree bark and grass slowly killed them off from malnutrition. When I thought about it that way, I realized that my situation wasn ’ t really that bad. I had a job, I had the internet, and I had pot. My last chick had cheated on me with some suit from her job, and that was the excuse I ’ d based this whole life-isn ’ t-worth-living shtick on, but as I stood trembling at the edge, a chill breeze rushing against my cheeks, I realized how stupid it all was. So what if some broad screwed around on me? Not the end of the world, certainly not the end of my life, and like my old man once said, females are like car parts, if they go bad you can always replace ’ m, although if the part is exotic you might have to order one from overseas. He was certainly happier with the one he mail-ordered from the Philippines after my mom split. 
 
 So it was with a new lease on life and a renewed sense of hope that I took a step backwards to move forward with my life. What I hadn ’ t counted on was the fact that my right shoelace was untied. Ironically enough it turned out that the undone shoelace was what caused my undoing. 
 
 The descent and the splat happened so quickly I didn ’ t even have the time to register the details. For a few seconds, nothing but darkness and an awkward self-conscious awareness of myself, like I was floating in some kind of embryonic shell awaiting a rebirth into the afterlife. I was too stunned to be expecting anything in particular. I was never religious, although I smoked enough pot to rival any Rastafarian. So when my eyes opened and I didn ’ t find myself in a basement sitting on a beanbag next to Bob Marley, I knew I wasn ’ t in heaven. 
 
 I was sitting in an uncomfortable, low-backed chair, one of those annoying things attached to five other chairs with no armrests in between. Seated to the left was a heavyset lady with frizzy red hair and a face full of acne wearing a pink t-shirt with a rhinestone depiction of a cat blasted over the front. To the right sat a suit, tap-tapping away at a laptop. The screen was completely blank, yet he stared intently at it without blinking. 
 
 Sunlight poured through windows set in the ceiling and reflected off of a clinically white interior. Directly to the front of me were a set of escalators leading up to a second level, to the right a series of display windows showing a variety of luxury products, to the left a set of booths accommodating queue after queue of people shuffling uncomfortably on the spot and looking around in boredom and frustration. It took me a second to correlate the sneaking sensation of familiarity that was growing in the back of my mind with the surroundings. I nudged the suit who grunted in acknowledgement without looking away from his laptop. 
 
 “ Hey man, are we sitting in LAX? ” 
 
 “ Yeah, that ’ s what it looks like. ” 
 
 “ Uhh... I ’ m either dreaming or very, very high right now. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, I get the feeling. ” He snickered as he tap-tapped away. 
 
 “ You might think I ’ m crazy, but a moment ago my skull was on a one-way trip to splatsville. ” 
 
 “ Yuhuh, and I rammed my car into the side of a sedan and killed a family of four. ” 
 
 That stumped me. He sounded like he was being sarcastic, but I couldn ’ t tell for sure. With the way things were going my ability to read the situation was completely off. 
 
 “ I accidentally drank my kitty ’ s ear medicine and poisoned myself, ” the lady interjected as she leaned over to me. She pulled something out of her pocket and proffered what turned out to be a crumpled bag of M & Ms. 
 
 “ You want some? It ’ s funny, I didn ’ t think food could make it to the other side but this little baggie sure did, and the great thing is it never runs out! I ’ ve been eating away for the last three days and it ’ s still full! ” 
 
 My hand reached out of its own accord and picked out a red one, and as I popped it into my mouth and crunched into the candy coating I was surprised to find that it tasted pretty much the same. I ’ d half thought it ’ d turn to ash or dust in my mouth. 
 
 “ So... I gather that this is the afterlife? ” 
 
 The suit grunted, the rattling of keys slowing momentarily. 
 
 “ That ’ s what it seems like. ” 
 
 “ Yuhuh, I was expecting something more fabulous, like marble pillars and golden buildings and fat little baby angels, or at least some flying kitties, but this is really dull! ” 
 
 She munched away at her bag of bottomless M & Ms, candy-coloured spittle seeping from the corner of her mouth. 
 
 “ Yeah, not exactly what I was expecting either... ” 
 
 The suit raised a hand to point at the booth closest to our row of seats where the queue was moving the quickest. 
 
 “ You got ta go line up over there. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, you have to grab a ticket! ” 
 
 She drew out a white stub, ‘ 97982 ’ printed across the top in pixelated ink. 
 
 “ What for? ” 
 
 “ Oh I dunno, I just followed the others. The nice lady said when my number is called I move to the next level or something like that, I hope it ’ s full of kittens! ” 
 
 The suit stayed silent as he tapped away with vigor. I shrugged and joined the line, looking back to see the woman attacking her M & Ms again and the suit continuing to deliver a rapidfire series of keystrokes. I stood behind a kid dressed in an outdated Goth style, who responded to my prompting with a dismissive sneer. All I could do was wait and marvel at how mundane everything was. I ’ d only been in LAX once in my life, when my old man and I moved to California from Phoenix after my mom ran off. It was full of people and louder than anything I ’ d seen growing up in the Arizona podunks. The iteration that I had arrived in was listless and sluggish by comparison, the crowd of people hanging around awkwardly in the queues or the seating area without making so much as a peep. So much for death stripping away the hang-ups of mortality, I thought as I shuffled along with the queue. Pretty soon I was at the front, staring down at a girl wearing a non-descript uniform in dark red. She was attractive in a stewardess sort of way, her blonde hair tied up into a tight bun and her sunny smile showing a row of shiny white teeth. I almost didn ’ t notice the two horns jutting from her brows, or the unnatural colouration of her irises, red to match her uniform. 
 
 “ Good day sir, welcome to Hell-A-X, your first stop to Eternity. Manner of death? ” 
 
 “ Uhh... I seem to recall falling off a building... ” 
 
 “ Accidental or self-motivated? ” 
 
 “ I-uhh... it ’ s a bit of both, but ultimately I ’ d have to say self-motivated... Hold on a sec, did you say Hell? Is that what this place is? Where are the little imps with pitchforks? I don ’ t see any fiery pits anywhere, and- “ 
 
 She cut me off with a raised index finger and a bigger smile. Suddenly the grin seemed more pointed and toothsome, her pleasant demeanour more artificial and predatory. I suppressed a shudder as my state of confusion conflicted with an irrational apprehension. 
 
 “ You ’ ll find out in due course, sir. If you could give me a moment to process your travel documents... ” 
 
 She drew a manila folder with a white label stuck to the front. Peering over, I could make out my name and age printed on the label. She opened the folder and drew out a slip of paper with my photo and personal details, which she scanned before pulling out a rubber stamp which she slammed over my photograph. As she lifted the stamp I could see the design left behind – ‘ SUICIDE ’ in a big red font. 
 
 She clicked her fingers and a ticket stub materialized in my hand. I didn ’ t question the physics behind it – I assumed the rules were different in hell – and looked down to check out the number, 1009827 in the same pixelated ink as the cat lady ’ s stub. 
 
 “ Sorry, but what does this number mean? ” 
 
 She smiled up at me again as she folded her hands in her lap. 
 
 “ That ’ s your place in the queue, sir. Please return to your seat and await your number to be called. ” 
 
 “ You ’ re telling me that there are... one million, nine thousand eight hundred and twenty six people in front of me? ” 
 
 “ That ’ s correct, sir. I see that your unfortunate rendezvous with the pavement didn ’ t affect your arithmetic abilities! Well done! ” 
 
 I tried to come up with a retort but the hungry look in her eyes made me hesitate. 
 
 “ So I killed myself and my personal hell is a lifetime of waiting in line... great... ” 
 
 She tilted her head slightly as she gestured for me to return to my seat. 
 
 “ Welcome to your afterlife, sir. ” 

