This story was originally written in German. My English wasn't quite good enough to translate all the jokes without accidentally sending them straight to Hell, so I asked the internet for help. Hopefully, most of them made it back alive. _________________________________________________________________ I go to bed one evening – and when I open my eyes again, the place reeks of sulfur and cheap barbecue lighter fluid. Flames lick the black ceiling above me, and a choir of the damned groans in rhythm like a badly oiled bagpipe going through puberty. I look to the side – and there are two demons standing there. Horns, sunglasses, grins so wide they could probably have their own ZIP code. One of them slams a rusty pitchfork down at my feet as a greeting. “Welcome to the Underworld, sinner! You will suffer eternal torment!” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Bro, don't scare me like that. I thought my neighbor had started another barbecue Armageddon – forty-five pounds of discount-store pork chops, thirty confused relatives who haven't seen a dentist in years, and clouds of smoke thick enough to make even the fire department surrender. Same noise, same smell, same level of psychological torture. Honestly – you even look a little like him.” The demon blinks in confusion. “Sinner! You are dead and will suffer eternal torment!” “Well, as long as my neighbor isn't here, things can only get better. So come on, show me what you've got. I don't have all day.” First Circle – Limbo A hall full of souls with empty stares. The walls look like Kafka designed the interior, the furniture like it came from a garage sale held by the Spanish Inquisition. Endless lines of people, each holding a form, only to be sent away again when they finally reach the counter. “Here you will wait forever for something that will never happen.” I nod. “Ah. The DMV. Take a number, 874, go to window three. And when you finally get there, you're naturally missing your grandmother's birth certificate. The furniture is more comfortable than at the DMV, but otherwise, no difference. Endless lines, nothing gets done? Welcome to airport security.” A few of the damned applaud weakly. The demons look as if they've just experienced the first burnout of their lives. Second Circle – Lust A storm whips sinners through the air. Everyone is screaming, nobody understands anyone else, and everything is spinning in endless chaos. “This is the punishment of the lustful!” I look around. “So everyone is yelling at once, everyone thinks they're right, everything keeps going in circles, and nobody can get their feet on the ground – sounds like election season. Only without an ending and not quite as chaotic.” At least there's a free roller coaster. No clothes required. “Looks like Saturday night at a swingers' club with the windows open. And I see you've taken the whole thing about blowing rather literally…” One demon covers his face with his hand. The other quietly Googles “career opportunities in Heaven.” Third Circle – Gluttony Slime drips from the walls. Trees are covered in thorny fruit. They hand me a plate of pus-filled sludge. “Here you will learn respect. This is the punishment for gluttony.” I take a taste. “Tastes like cafeteria noodles from Monday with salad dressing from Saturday. I've had worse.” I pick up one of the fruits. “This is like a power salad at a vegan bistro – expensive, fibrous, and completely unsatisfying. At least there's no spelt.” So far, this is basically all-you-can-eat at a vegan restaurant five minutes before closing. They hand me a goblet filled with boiling liquid. I drink it without so much as a twitch and notice their astonished looks. “Guys, if you've ever bitten into a McDonald's apple pie without knowing how hot it was, you know what pain is. After that, your entire mouth feels like it's been paved with asphalt. This is barely lukewarm wellness tea.” The demons look as if they're about to throw up themselves – and I'm not entirely sure whether mentioning McDonald's was what pushed them over the edge. Fourth Circle – Greed & Selfishness Stones, mountains, endless pushing uphill. “You will roll these stones endlessly up the mountain – and they will always roll back down!” I nod. “Sounds like a gym. Weights up, weights down. Only without membership fees and annoying trainers in tank tops. And it's contract-free and free of charge. Not bad.” The first demon starts crying. The second crosses “Circle 4” off his career résumé. Fifth Circle – The Angry & The Slothful At the next stop, some furious souls are fighting in the mud, while others lie there lazily like tired pickles on vacation. “Here the angry and the slothful suffer together!” I look around. “Ah. A metal festival. Only less mud and shorter bathroom lines. Pretty chill, actually.” The demons drag me onward in silence. One of them mutters: “I quit.” Sixth Circle – Heretics Glowing stones. Demons with whips beating half-naked sinners sitting on them. “Here the heretics burn!” I look at them. “Oh, come on. Ever been in a 212-degree sauna while the guy running it beats you with willow branches? This is harmless. And at least there's no infusion that smells like a wet sheepdog.” One demon angrily kicks a stone. The stone wins. Seventh Circle – Violence A river of blood, a rain of fire, screaming figures choking each other – like a shopping mall on Black Friday, only without security guards. “Here are the violent!” I look around. “Looks like the North Stand at a minor-league soccer game. Shoving, hooligans beating each other up, fireworks – just without all that annoying soccer chanting. Almost pleasant.” The demons drag me onward with the last of their strength. Eighth Circle – Fraud & Deceit It reeks of sulfur, burnt meat and stale slime. Claws, teeth, flickering flames and endless pestilence everywhere – and somehow, everything just keeps going. No mercy. No end. “Here are the fraudsters and liars!” I nod. “Reminds me of recess at my old school. Everyone fighting over the last lunch sandwich, toilets that stink, paper airplanes on fire. Someone keeps banging on the drums – Kevin Drumm. Poor bastard. He was the kid everyone picked on.” “And that was just the teachers.” The demons have tears in their eyes. One of them secretly starts typing a job application to Saint Peter. “Compared to my school days, this place is a vacation with a massage.” *(To be continued in Part 2)*