Blogger's Hell

I knew I was going to hell, but maybe I just didn't care. The nightmares — the ones in which I stood before the throne of judgment — began to intrude on my waking hours, but still I procrastinated. By the time I began to seriously rethink my position on writing — or more to the point, my avoidance of it — it was too late. In these dreams, I had committed the unpardonable sin. I had neglected my blog for months, and the sentence was eternity in a place with insignificant site traffic.

Sure, I had my reasons, and in my dream I said so. But the Creator dismissed my protests with the wave of a red marking pencil, causing a ripple of laughter from the throng of winged creatures fluttering about overhead. My attorney laughed, too.

I began to make irrational promises. I said I could meet impossible deadlines, and vowed to memorize every word of the Chicago Manual. I pledged to improve my vocabulary. I even promised to be more serious, but that brought howls from the little winged creatures. Even the Creator smiled.

"Tell me," said the Creator, slipping the red pencil behind his ear. "If you had it to do over, what would you do differently?"

The winged creatures stopped their fluttering, and turned toward me. The lawyer chuckled.

"I . . . might put ads on my blog?" My voice was hoarse.

The winged creatures burst into laughter. Some spiraled into walls, while others simply fell to the floor and lay heaving, overcome with uncontrollable mirth. My attorney rose from his chair.

"See you around, blogger," said the lawyer.

"See you around, blogger," said the Creator, pulling the lever that opened the floor beneath my feet.

I screamed.