Now that you mention it,watching “Serbian Film” again would defintitely qualify as some level of hell…
But are there snacks?
This is something I’ve thought long and hard about for an unhealthily large amount of my life.
Assuming Hell isn’t just one cliche, collective “red guy pokes you in the ass for eternity and it’s fucking hot all the damn time” scenario, and everyone has a personal Hell based on what agonizes and scares them the most and simultaneously hits them right in the intrinsic couple of flaws that make us loathe ourselves the most…
I’d say my own Hell is a weird kind of fetch quest administered by a weird mix of freeform geometry, every ex-girlfriend I’ve had, my father, and the elemental aspects of fire and ice. The quest in question, hahah, is one across a variety of strange, hostile, and seemingly familiar locales for items that don’t exist or were in my hands all along, and the journeys and destinations are cloaked in riddles and mirrors.
These errands always reward me with physical punishment and another quest for a chance to redeem myself, and because I’m a stubborn, self-flagellating asshole with this Mr. Fixit complex, I’m always going to take it, and I’m always doomed to fail, be beaten to death, resuscitated, and sent on my way to retrieve a circular cube or the collected wishes of a child who has never once had a thought because I simply cannot let myself just give it up.
Holy shit, this is a good thread.
Hell would be waking up one day and discovering I had become my in laws and I am incapable of killing myself. Or some sort of horrible Groundhogs Day scenario where I just cycle through being different members of my wife’s horrible worthless family. Seriously, fuck those guys.