Kevin Goes to The Bad Place

    Kevin Dever died and went to The Bad Place.  He was met at the gate by a very tall, ugly, mean-looking being that wore a pair of red coveralls.

    “Step on up to the gate,” the being said.  “Don’t be shy.”

    “Where am I?” Kevin asked.

    “The Bad Place,” the being said.

    “Who are you?”

     The being pointed to a button on his chest with the letters HBG written on it.  “That’s me.”

     “What does HBG stand for?”

     “Head Bad Guy.”  He pulled open a large leather book.  “Let’s see, Dever, Dever,” he mumbled, dragging a clawed finger down the pages.  “Dever, Dever, ah, here we are. Now to find the Kevins.”

    “What’s all this about?” Kevin asked.

    Head Bad Guy held up a bony hand.  “Shhhhh!  Not while I’m searching!”  He continued to scan the pages for a minute then shouted in triumph.  “Here it is!  Kevin Dever, age 38.”  He looked up.  “You died early, eh?”

    Kevin shrugged.  “I guess.  Last thing I remember, I was walking through the parking lot of a department store.”

    HBG referred back to the book.  “Flattened by a pickup truck full of watermelons.  Tsk, tsk, what a way to go.  Oh well, I guess it not up to us to decide.  Come on in, Kevin, your reservations are in order and your room is waiting.”  He stepped back and pushed open the gate.

    Kevin tried to resist, but someone (or something) pushed him from behind and he stumbled through.  “I think there’s been a mistake. . .”

    “Nope, can’t be.  If nothing else, we keep excellent records here.  You’re right where you belong.  Now, follow me.”  He started down a dark tunnel.

    “But I wasn’t a bad person!” Kevin had to walk fast to keep up.  “I went to church, paid my taxes, extremely faithful to my wife, never got drunk, and never hurt animals.”

    HBG chuckled.  “Yeah, I know.  Goodie-Two-Shoes, that’s you.”

    “Then why did I end up in this place?”

     “Because you weren’t completely good.  Everybody in this wing was a do-gooder like you, but for one thing. A terrible, awful, inexcusable thing.”

    Kevin frowned as they stopped in front of black door.  “What?”

    HBG rumbled deep in his chest. “Everybody gets a room in which they pay off their crimes against humanity. This room is yours.” He pulled the door open on an expanse of blackness.  The room appeared to be immense, going on for distances immeasurable.  Stars filled the void, shining with a soft, pleasing light.

    Kevin stepped to the threshold. “It’s beautiful in there!  This is punishment?”

    “It’s supposed to be.”

     “Looks like somebody in your Production Department messed up. If this is punishment, give me all you got!”

    “So glad you like it.  Now, just step inside and you can begin.”

    “Great, can’t wait to get started star gazing.”

    There was a click as HBG flipped a large light switch.  The stars were no longer stars but thousands and thousands of shopping carts lined up as far as the eye could see, and beyond.

    “What the...” Kevin started.

    “Your punishment, Kevin Dever,” HBG announced, his voice echoing over and over in the expanse, “is to take all of these shopping carts, one by one, and put them into the proper holding bins.  You’ll have to go through a long training period since you don’t seem to have gotten any practice while you were alive.”

Kevin’s scream reverberated throughout The Bad Place, but there was no one there to hear it.

***

Okay, okay, so I’m exaggerating a little here (a little?), but would it kill people to walk a few more feet from their car and return their shopping carts to the designated area?

Obviously so.

 

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