Tag Archives: hell

1323. Emmeline’s lazy morning

It was Sunday morning. Emmeline’s alarm went off. The clock was telling her to get out of bed and go to church. Instead Emmeline turned over and snuggled sleepily into her warm bed.

Later she thought she would get up and make a lovely Sunday brunch. When she got out of bed she hit her head on the bedpost and died. Emmeline went straight to hell, where she will roast in a burning fire for eternity.

So much for snuggling up in a warm bed.

938. Cat heaven

938cats

There had been so many complaints; centuries of complaints, going all the way back to the Ancient Egyptians. Person after person, coming through the Pearly Gates into Heaven had complained. Why can’t I bring in my pet cat?

Pharaoh Tutankhamun led the charge. He had a couple of mummified sacred cats he’d brought along with him. He’d moaned nearly every day since around 1327ish BC. He was only 17 years old, so he didn’t know any better, silly man.

Saint Peter was sick of it. He relented. Henceforth, cats and only cats (no dogs yet you understand?) would be allowed in. Nigel brought in 23 cats almost immediately; Nora 27; Davinia 85; Indira just the 1; Andrew 8; Beveridge 11; Debbie…

The place was overrun with cats.

Freddie wasn’t alone in hating the whole jolly cat thing. He was all for upping and leaving until someone pointed out that Hell allowed its residents to bring in their pet rats.

To listen to the story being read click HERE!

751. Bit by bit

751lily

(A story for Halloween)

Warren lay in the hospital bed. He couldn’t move but he could hear.

“We’re sorry, but he’s clinically dead. When you’ve said your goodbyes, the machine will be turned off.”

Don’t pull the plug! Don’t pull the plug! screamed Warren inside. I’m still alive!

“Thank you, doctor. We would like to switch the machine off ourselves. Goodbye, Warren.”

Warren heard the switch click. He knew they were wheeling him to the morgue. He heard the mortician complain about the amount of fluid in his system.

“It must’ve been one hell of a gigantic cyst. Look at all that stuff draining off.”

He heard them injecting him with embalming fluid. He felt it. It was excruciating. He heard his funeral; every word. He heard them lowering the coffin into the grave.

I’m not dead! I’m not dead!

He heard the clunk of the dirt falling.

He heard his body rot; bit by bit; piece by piece. Decaying bones take centuries.

He was dead, but this was Hell.

Listen the story being read HERE!

729. The best of friends

729friends

Tom and Seamus had been best friends for many, many years. Their families always took their vacation together at the lake. They were forever taking the mickey out of each other; pulling each other’s leg; having each other on…

Then one day, quite separately one from another, Tom and Seamus dropped dead.

The first thing they said upon arriving in the nether world was, “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I suppose we’d better find the pearly gates and see what the story is,” said Tom.

And there they were: the gates! Saint Peter was sitting at his desk looking rather bored.

“So,” said Saint Peter to Seamus, “I haven’t had time to check. What’s Tom been like? Has he been good?”

“He’s been the paradigm of goodness,” said Seamus. “Always kind. Integrity is what he has. If he says it, then it’s true.”

“And you,” said Saint Peter to Tom, “What’s Seamus been like?”

“The biggest bastard on God’s earth,” joked Tom. “I’d chuck him into hell if I was you.”

Unfortunately, Peter believed both.

Listen the story being read HERE!

708. Just inside the gates

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Andrew had always been a decent sort of a bloke; nothing fancy at a party; pretty quiet in fact. He was married and had three kids. The kids had all grown up and left home. Andrew was a practical man. He always gave a hand, always volunteered. But no one took much notice of him. He liked to quietly potter in his garden.

He was fairly religious; not too much; but he said his prayers, and tried to be kind. He always prayed that he wouldn’t go to Hell but would sneak into Heaven, even if it was just inside the gates as if he had just made it; at the bottom of the pile, so to speak, but in Heaven nonetheless. He would be happy to be happy, but he didn’t have to be the happiest of all.

Then Andrew died, as all are wont to do. He quietly made the rounds of everyone he knew. No one seemed to be that pleased to see him. They shook his hand politely and wished him a good day. It was the way Andrew preferred. Nothing fussy.

Then he had an interview with God.

“What would you like to do?” asked God.

“Maybe I could help out in the garden or something,” said Andrew.

“You barely made it through to Heaven,” said God, “so maybe you can look after the garden just inside the gates.”

Andrew did that. He quietly gardened away. He enjoyed it. He never realised that everyone who entered gasped in astonishment:

“Oh my goodness! Look at the garden! So this is Heaven!”

Listen the story being read HERE!

677. Thora’s questionnaire

677thora

Thora was the epitome of both meddlesomeness and overbearingness. She was therefore rather taken aback, when she died and arrived at Heaven’s Pearly Gates, to be made to wait in line. She jumped the queue little by little and ended up at the front quicker than Saint Peter had originally intended.

Thora was further aghast. No, she couldn’t go straight through. Would she mind sitting over at that side table there and filling out a questionnaire?

“Of course I would mind,” said Thora. “A questionnaire?”

“Do it!” said Saint Peter.

Question One: List five people on earth who should be the next to die. State why.

“An excellent question,” thought Thora. “There’s Ena Bisset; she had that affair with the mechanic last week when she was getting an oil change for her car. Then there’s Tania Schonberger; she drinks far far too much and hides her gin bottles under the bed. And there’s Sharon de Silva; she…”

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” called Thora to Saint Peter. “Why do I have to make this list? Haven’t you been watching what goes on down there?”

Thora stood. She strode over.

“Step aside,” she said to Saint Peter. “You’ve been at it two thousand years and need a break. Okay, hurry up you lazy people, we have to get rid of this queue.”

Thora pushed some people through and rejected others. She worked tirelessly all day. She was in her element. Not once did she have to consult the notes Saint Peter had left. She knew everyone’s business by heart.

So if you happen to have the opportunity in the not-too-distant future of “passing through”, don’t be surprised to see Thora in charge.