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A pulpy, tentacled head on a grotesque and scaly, gargantuan body with small wings stared down at them.
“Pooh. Piglet.” it said and waited.
There was a short pause as the wind turned and they all took in the lovely
sulfuric smell from the souls burning in the lake of eternal hellfire.
“Hiya 'Thuls.” Out for a walk?”
“Yeah, thought I’d stretch my legs.”
“Nice day for it.”
“Yeah.”
“Well…” Pooh offered.”...can’t stay and chat. We’re doing orientation day.”
“Ouch. Ok. Well better you than me. Laters.” it chuckled and walked and stumbled away.
After he left Piglet said something ingratiating that Pooh didn’t hear.
He was busy cursing management for only using humanlike shapes
at orientation day.
And from somewhere a thought struck him with enough force to make him say it out loud:
“Why do we call it the lake of eternal hellfire? I mean we’re in Hell.
Seems like over explaining it if you ask me. Not like they ever do…”
“That’s a very interesting thought Pooh! And you sounded just like Ee-ore! You’re so funny.”
“That will do Piglet. That will do. Or I will kill you. Again.”
“But it’s Christmas! Surely you wouldn’t kill me on Christmas!”
“Give me some honey and we’ll see”
Piglet gave him a big jar of honey, and Pooh started smacking his gob.
Piglet eyed him nervously.
“Maybe I’ll let the demon possessing Rabbit kill you. He is picky though. Hur hur.
You’re not Christian or anything are you?”
Piglet spluttered in one breath “I'm an unobservant orthodox Jew, my mom was gay; my dad was black and I'm one fourth Cherokee Will that help? Will he eat me?"
Pooh smacked his gob around more honey and muttered something unintelligible.
***
It had been Orientation Day in hell.
They had walked far to many steps paved with good intentions.
They had learned who microwaved fish two years ago (and then obviously came here to Hell) and who dished out the toner for the printers.
All of them already suffering at the beginning of their very own self-made special hell-place (in Hell), words and existence slowly changing meaning, with a sudden pristine understanding of the torture of existence.
The view was amazing though.
The tour guide had tried and failed at being funny. This was improvised and not part of
the regular tour, Pooh was impressed. Piglet laughed just for brownie points,
Pooh was going to kill him later on, he had now decided. If he still felt like it.
But, you know. Probably.
Pooh scraped up the last of the honey from the jar, stuffed it into his mouth then licked his hand.
Piglet longed for a decaying mind, thinking that observers
almost out of range wouldn't see or feel as much.
Pooh longed for violence and more honey. He wasn't a very smart bear.
But his vices were easy to satisfy, so there’s that.
And Hell itself thought:
“If a cycle is unending, that means it never ends -
and no memory loss is complete enough to stop that pain,
at least, not here in me.”
***
Halfway back home Pooh stopped so Piglet had to too.
They looked at each other.
"You know what Piglet?” Pooh squinted friendly “I don't hate you.
I just nothing you. You are a nothing to me. I don't think of you, when you’re not here
not ever."
There was a long silence before Piglet looked away and spoke.
"I hate me. I really do. I really do hate myself."
And Hell thought:
“Some parts of the mind will hear the torrent of the eternities,
always seeping in through the cracks in their minds.
Something will always remain.
Because it's a better story that way.”