So you’re going to hell. Big deal. I was in hell before you were even born, and believe me nothing has changed: we still have to jiggle the handle on the torture machine to get it going in the morning.
But let’s get serious for a minute. You didn’t make the cut and you’re doomed to eternal torture, but stop looking so forlorn: seriously, all the demons get off on forlornness, and you’ll be hit on so much you won’t be able to get a breath of acrid, sulfurous air.
As a veteran of hell, I can offer a bit of advice if you’re interested. First of all, fire is pretty much everywhere. This means two things: you’ll be extremely uncomfortable all the time and you’ll find it very difficult to store paper goods. Eternity is a long time, so it’s basically impossible to keep track of appointments. I suggest hiring a secretary, but then when she asks for a Christmas bonus just mutter something about how much your hair hurts. (It will be on fire.)
On the whole, hell is probably not as bad as it’s made out to be. There’s an occasional laugh,like the time the fire department came for inspection—the head inspector had a really high voice. But it’s true that it’s not all a bed of ros-es. The most important thing to keep in mind that you’re here for the long haul, so it’s prob-ably best not to be noticed too much. Whenever You get a chance, you should practice blending in with the other damned souls by putting on your saddest and most eternally-burning face.