Something New

My apartment’s floor cracked open. I looked down the depths of the newly formed crevice and saw the gates of hell. I thought, “Wow, hell actually exists.”

I called some friends and told them about it. They came over to take a look. Some took pictures with their camera phones. Another person said they hadn’t been to church since they were a little kid and this made them think of going back.

Later that night I sat on the edge of my floor and played guitar. I played Hellhound on my Trail by Robert Johnson. I’ve never been able to play that song. But now I had something to associate with the words.

I got curious and scaled the crevice down to the gates of hell. There was an attendant. I said, “Are you Satan?”

The disinterested attendant said, “No.”

I said, “Where is Satan?”

The attendant said, “I really don’t know.”

I said, “Can I come in and look around?”

The attendant scowled and said, “It doesn’t work that way. Once you’re in, that’s it, okay? Geez.”

I thought about how customer service seems to be bad wherever I go.