5. The Ragged Welcome Wagon

“…you don’t say.”

“Actually,” Richard pointed out, grin widening; “I just did.”

“Oh, right!” Nodding, Jonathan repeated; “Right, right… so you did, so you did, very… a fallen angel. Wow. You mean with… wings and a halo…?”

Cackling and slapping his knee, Richard soon gestured for John to follow, hobbling down the sidewalk as he replied; “Yeah, an’ a glowing robe n’ harp. Don’ be daft. You don’ see fire ‘n brimstone ‘round here, do ya? Actually,” he interjected quickly, “don’t answer that, this place did use to be fire n’ brimstone, ‘fore the reorganizing.”

Jonathan now had a whole slew of questions, all in equally desperate need of answering, and it took him several moments to arrange and prioritize the queries; “All right, well, whatever the case… why are you fallen? I mean, if you made it to Heaven…”

“Well, lemme tell ya, just ‘cause you make it into Heaven, don’t really mean you’re guaranteed to stick around, ‘specially if you screw up somehow. Which, unfortunately, is exactly what I did, an’ only ‘bout twenty years after getting’ there.”

“…and exactly what did you do?”

“Coveted another man’s wife. Er, five times. Same wife, mind ya. She ‘n her husband hated each other but, go figures, they didn’ divorce while they were livin’, and you can’ find much in the way o’ lawyers to turn to up there so, what can ya do?”

“Covet, apparently.” Clearing his throat, John asked curiously; “How did you, er, get caught doing it?”

“Well, there’s the kicker, there. Up in the Great Beyond, nothin’s hidden amongst the lot of us, our thoughts included. Might as well be one big hive mind, and you try hidin’ an affair from a group consciousness! Was pretty dumb t’ try, I guess…”

“Actually, the dumb part might have been doing it five times…”

“Well, 20/20 hindsight must be a real joy for ya,” Richard sneered, then snorted, adjusting his shirt slightly; “Enough about me, though. Surely you’ve got some more interestin’ questions than local gossip, eh? Or, at th’ very least, less personal questions.”

“Well, matter of fact, I have a few…” Glancing around the streets, spotting a few more people shuffling about the sidewalks, John cleared his throat; “So. This is Hell, is it?”

“Yup.”

“Seems a bit… erm…”

“Cold?”

“I was going to say ‘lacking in agony.’”

With a snort of laughter, Richard flashed another grin; “Yeah, you say that now, wait ‘til you been livin’ here a few centuries. This place’ll grow on ya like a fungus… like your worst day ever, only over ‘n over ‘n over… an’ then a day that ain’t so bad, leavin’ ya with the hope that your lot might start improvin’. Then it starts again an’ you feel all the worse for it.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound… that bad…”

“Eh, you’ll see soon enough, I’m thinkin.’” Shrugging, Richard continued; “Now, Hell used t’ be all filled with fire n’ brimstone, but eventually the Powers That Be decided t’ rearrange the entire thing. Nobody knows why, an’ although at first th’ occupants were thrilled with the changes, after a few decades they almost started t’ miss th’ old lashin’s and havin’ the flesh seared off their bones.”

Rounding a corner, the older man pointed wordlessly at one of the many gray, featureless buildings, soon setting off at a fair pace with Jonathan trailing just behind. John couldn’t help but notice that Richard’s limp had all but vanished, the man’s steps now confident and purposeful.

“’They?’ You mean you prefer it this way?”

“Eh, if yer smart, and stay on yer toes, it becomes almost livable.” Lifting a single finger, he began to lecture solemnly, even as they reached the building’s thick wooden door. “Always keep in mind, you dun have a body anymore. Technically, you dun need food, water, rest… can’t get seriously hurt, or die.

“The trap, though, is yer mind; you see a snack machine, you’ll feel a gnawing hunger ‘till you get your mind off it, you even think ‘bout a bathroom break an’ suddenly you have t’ wobble for a toilet with your legs crossed-“

“Oh, so we get toilets, at least?” John asked, following Richard into the building.

“Oh, yeah, but every single’s one got a seat covered in piss, an’ not enough toilet paper t’ clean it up without gettin’ half of it on your palm. Still, you manage t’ take your mind off it, you won’t actually need t’ go.”

“Is it still… physically possible to go to the washroom?”

“Oh, yeah, it is, but I wouldn’ recommend peein’ standin’ up, not unless ye feel like paintin’ a pretty picture on the wall. Part o’ this place’s ‘charm.’”

“That’s disgusting…” John’s nose wrinkled slightly, glancing around the building’s small lobby. An old, rickety elevator stood in the center, around which spiraled with a staircase with steps that looked far to small for human feet to use.

“It’s Hell,” Richard replied with another shrug, wandering to the staircase; “Don’ bother with the elevator, boyo. Even if it opened, you’d just end up trapped in it for a few hours.”

The steps were just as difficult to navigate as they looked; only half of Richard’s total foot length could actually fit upon each step, even when he turned his feet slightly to one side, and so as a result the man found most of his weight being supported on the back of his ankles; after only half a floor of stairs, he could already feel them starting to throb painfully.

Finally, they reached the second level, John limping behind the apparently unaffected Richard. Stopping in front of the second door on the left side of the corridor, the older man pushed it open, brushing his hands off cheerfully as he stepped in.

“Home sweet home. Know the lack of signs can make navigatin’ a bit tough, but eventually you get a handle on it.”

John shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he paced back and forth across the apartment; now that he had a slightly better idea of where he stood, he could feel “I don’t want to get a handle on it, I want to get out of here. I mean, I don’t even know why I’m here… I didn’t do any coveting, I know that much! Isn’t there some sort of… appeal process? Loophole? Must be a whole slew of lawyers here, right?”

“Appeal process? Oh, yeah, they got those.”

John paused, blinking at Richard, who was standing on a windowsill with his head up a broken ceiling tile; “They… they do? Well, excellent, wonderful, perfect! How do I go about this process?”

“Later,” Richard replied, waving off the question and grinning, even as he reached up into the ceiling. After a moment, he stepped down, a ragged bag held in one hand; “Right now, we gotta do us some shoppin.’”