Just Another Day At The Office

By Travis Lyle a.k.a DJ Hedmekanik
Hi, my name is Cerberus and I'll be your Hellguardian for all eternity...

You there – that was you, wasn’t it, going all ‘vroom, vroom’ at the robots, wasn’t it? You, sir, are an idiot, so please step into the burning pit of eternal pain and suffering, thank you, and make it snappy please, we’ve a bit of a backlog here today…now listen here, I’m a reasonable dog but you really must try and think of this as a public service – after all, we are saving you from wrapping yourself around the nearest tree, are we not? Thought you’d agree. Goodbye.
Now…you, madam, who drove too fast in the rain up to a red light, thus mounting the pavement like a rhinoceros driven mad by lust? Yes, you too are a prize-winning imbecile, and as I am unsure as to whether the word idiot has a feminine designation, you too shall fall into the flaming pit of idiots, and you can take your dented car with you. Hurry along now, would you? I don’t have all day.
And you over there with your Hummer and those oh-so-gangster tinted windows, yes you. You’re the one that leads the pack by shooting red lights, are you not? In that case, it is my pleasure to relegate you too – no, I’m sorry, we don’t accept bribes here at Sentencing For Idiots Inc., unlike those many, many traffic cops you’ve helped with all those little presents over the years – to the idiot pit. Get in, go on. What’s that? Your enormous oversized gas-guzzling carbon monoxide-belching monstrosity won’t fit through the gateway to Hell? No problem. Engineers! Stop skiving and widen this bloody door, and need I remind you that the bellows needs fixing? We have a surplus of sinners and they don’t fry themselves, now do they? No, they don’t. Right, where was I? Oh, that’s right.
You with the itchy hooter finger – yes, yes, I am talking to you, you sullen psychotic abusive misogynistic tosser. Oh you will, will you? Gone all ‘I won’t do it again, I promise’, have you? Leave it out – you had your chance to make amends but you squandered it. Oh - just a question, before you’re vapourised in a puff of eternal damnation – what was the rush, oh matey? Why did you have to repeatedly pound that godforsaken hooter, when one gentle tootle would have done the job? And why, pray tell, did you feel that your arrogance permitted you to invade the space of others with your incessant petulant bleating? What was that? You were in a hurry, eh? Well, that certainly hastened you to your demise. No, no, no – sorry, there’ll be no ‘Oh please Cerberus I promise I won’t do it again, how about I buy you a nice juicy steak?’ – you shoulda thought of that whilst you still had the chance, eh? No, awfully sorry, it’s goodbye and good riddance. Engineer! Remove those fingernails from the doorjamb, would you, there’s a good man.

Ah, I love my job.



2 comments so far.

  1. djf October 3, 2008 at 8:22 AM
    Dontcha need to enlarge the pit even more to accommodate all the minibus taxi drivers??
  2. hedmekanik October 3, 2008 at 3:20 PM
    Oh, there's more than enough spare parking bays in Hell for the Siyaya cowboys.

    In fact, we've reserved a whole section of the infernal multi-storey parking garage just for them.

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