And I'm making a risky decision this time. I'm picking something I haven't read yet myself. I've heard good things about it, though.
If you all hate it, I'll publish my address. You can come over and throw rotten vegetables at me.
This month's book is Incarceron by Catherine Fisher.
I'm not even going to try to explain it. Just read it. But first, watch the cool trailer.
Discussion to take place here on February 24th.
Okay, on to our question..
Any time I do something I'm not proud of, I'll look at the person I'm with and say, deadpan:
I'm going to hell.
So here's the scenario: It finally happened.
All your littering and snarky comments and putting recycling in the trash caught up with you. You're in hell.
What does it look like?
Now at various times in my life, I've had different theories about this. In college I used to insist that if I ever ended up there, it would be an eternity spent in Kinko's during finals week.
I feel the same way about Home Depot, when I'm looking for something specific and it feels like all the men speak a language called "hardware" and my English isn't enough to navigate. Sometimes I walk in there and break into a cold sweat.If I died and went to hell, there would be Celine Dion playing.
All. The. Time. Loudly.The only person there to keep me company would be my ex-brother-in-law: the twitchy, bigoted one with ADHD who thinks the whole world owes him something, and who never... shuts... up.
It would smell like poop.
Forget hellfires. It would be cold, and windy, with driving rain, and i would be forced to wear wool, so I both itched AND smelled like wet dog.
If there were televisions, they would only play Dora the Explorer. Those long pauses every time she asks a question make me homicidal.
Either that or I'd just spend an eternity in my last job.
Which would be even worse.