Inspired by and in the style of George Carlin.
Uncle Farquart: Bloooarrrgh!
Dirk Danglenuts: Holy hell! What the...
UF: Remember me? It's Uncle Farquart. I'm dead.
DD: I went to the funeral.
UF: Oh, right. Anyway, the Big Man sent me to warn you. Kinda like the Ghost of Christmas Past, but without the flying and stuff.
DD: Figures.
UF: I'm in Hell, dude. It sucks.
DD: Really? You seemed like a good guy.
UF: Mostly... remember that thing I did with the chicken?
DD: What do you think?
UF: (coughs), right. Well, it turns out they have souls. Who knew?
DD: (nervous), Really? Um... are there any other ones?
UF: Just wallabies.
DD: Well, I'm screwed.
UF: Bloooarrrgh! Pay attention! I'm here to warn you!
DD: About hell? That I should avoid it? I think I got that.
UF: You have no idea, kid. Fire? Brimstone? I should be so lucky.
DD: Ok then, what's it like?
UF: Well, do you remember that tv gameshow, Don't Forget to Use Your Own Lyrics?
DD: No.
UF: Crap, wait. That hasn't happened yet. I keep forgetting about the "time has no meaning" thing. Anyway, it sucks. People make up their own crap on the fly to the tune of top 40 radio hits.
DD: Jesus.
UF: (sighs), Contestant number one.
DD: Huh?
UF: Every week, he pulls that "I am the Son of God" crap. You'd think with that whole miracles gig He's got going, He'd give himself a sense of timing.
DD: He's bad, then?
UF: You should hear Him rap. Although... He can actually sing the "censored" bleep. That's pretty cool. Anyway, that's not the worst of it - you should see what His Mom's into these days. Makes that Magdalen bitch look like a Girl Guide.
Mary: I heard that, dickhead!
UF: Goddammit, this is supposed to be a private haunting!
God: Look pal, She's the Mother of My Child. Whaddya want from Me?
UF: Grow a Pair, for Chrissakes!
G: Double serving of steaming dog turds for you. Now hurry up, I need My Feet exfoliated. (vanishes)
M: Not done with you, buddy. (vanishes)
DD: They seemed nice.
UF: The crap I gotta put up with. ANYWAY - I'm supposed to tell you - you can get credit for suffering experienced on earth, at a two to one rate. Kinda like the Canadian judicial system, but without the free room and board. But it's gotta be real suffering; none of this "but I really hate asparagus" crap.
DD: But I really do!
UF: Doesn't count. It's gotta be painful.
DD: Alright, fine. But where's the devil in all this?
UF: What, Lucie? Listen kid, here's what they don't tell you in sunday school - sure, he was tossed out of Heaven, but not for being any kind of badass. They couldn't afford to feed his big ass anymore.
Lucifer: (from a distance, muffled), I heard that! I'm gonna roast your... Oooh, pancakes!
UF: See what I mean?
DD: So... Satan doesn't run Hell... Mary's a slut... Jesus can't sing... and God's a Giant Puss. That about cover it?
UF: Well... when you put it that way... it doesn't sound that bad.
DD: Later, Uncle Farquart.
UF: Later. (vanishes)
So the first time i read this i really didn't get it, so i had to come back to it. LOL Now I kinda like it! :)
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