Crazy, Funny, General, Strange

The 9 Levels of Hell for the Living

I can most certainly attest to Open Mic Night at a Coffee Shop being one of the 9 Levels of Hell. I’m still tormented by supposedly-tormented post-high school souls whining for what feels like an eternity. That’s living hell, I tell you.

Dante’s Inferno took us through the 9 levels of hell when you die. But we think there are plenty of hellish places you can find yourself in when you’re alive. Here are the 9 levels of hell you’ve probably encountered some time in your life.

LEVEL 1: Jiffy Lube Waiting Room

At first glance, the Jiffy Lube waiting room seems down-trodden, but normal. It has all of the common elements of any other waiting room: magazines, a television set, coffee, donuts, and even a little candy machine. However, upon further investigation, you’ll quickly discover that the Jiffy Lube waiting room somehow contains the absolute worst of all of these things. The magazines are from 2002, and half the pages are torn out. The television set somehow always has terrible reception, and is stuck on Spanish soap operas because the channel buttons are broken. The coffee is cold, the donut box is empty, and the candy machine is half filled with Mike & Ike’s, and half-filled with the dead bugs who ate the rest of the Mike & Ike’s. But wait, it gets worse: at the end of all of this, a guy with half of your education is going to rip you off, and then present you with a receipt from a printer that was built before cocaine became popular.

LEVEL 2: Open Mic Night at a Coffee Shop

Usually you’ve been invited to this level of hell by someone you work with, or one of your girlfriend’s friends. There’s nine people in the audience, yet somehow the person you came to see is 64th on the list to go up. After sitting through eleven different performances of John Lennon’s “Imagine,” all of which were prefaced with a five minute talk about when they came across a homeless person/dog/child that looked “disenchanted”, the person you came to see comes up. Then he or she plays an original song they wrote, the lyrics of which read like the opening credits theme to Full House. Then, after they’ve finished, you can’t just leave, because they wants to “have a cup of coffee” with you, even though by this point it’s 11:45 p.m. and you’d rather not ingest something that’s going to keep you up for four more hours and cause you to shit out the nine maple scones you ate while trying to pass the time before his performance.

LEVEL 3: A One-Year-Old’s Birthday Party

Walking into a one-year-old’s birthday party is like walking into a really bad acid trip. There’s colorful shit all over the walls, everyone’s speaking in disturbingly high voices and time slows to a crawl.

Then, as you stand there, you have to pretend that you’re really excited for the gurgling, snotting “special little guy” who has no idea why someone is shoving a flaming cake in his face or forcing him to wear a hat. Having a birthday party for a one-year-old is like having a birthday party for a chair or an amoeba. Yet, you have to paste a fake smile across your lips every time someone says, “Let’s all take another photo of the amoeba!”

The next Levels of Hell at Holy Taco.