• Last night in my dreams, I took a little trip to Hell.

    Remarkably, Hell looks a lot like Heaven, and smells a lot like Los Angeles.

    Like Los Angeles, Hell features big grimy buildings and more than the usual amount of crazy people in the streets. The streets are made of fluffy smog and every few minutes or so, someone will jump from a high-rise apartment and land 'splut' in a suddenly gorey heap of cloud. No one else seems to mind.

    Like Heaven, Hell is full of naked angels. However, most of these naked angels look like Florida retirees and they sit around smoking stogies, playing poker, and giving passers-by the kind of stink-eye that wilts flowers.

    Hell is brightly lit and full of clouds, like Heaven, but the clouds are dirty and the light comes from cosmically massive, gratingly buzzing florescent light bulbs, hung way up in what I guess you would have to call the sky. Occasionally, one of these falls, and crushes whole platoons of naked angels and their card tables flat.

    Other denizens of Hell include drunken clowns, huge faceless guys in monkey suits, the cast of Cheers, and about six hundred people asking you if they can bum a cigarette.

    In my dream, being in Hell wasn't scary. I knew I didn't live there, I was just visiting for awhile.