As I finished reading the last line of the inscription, the elevator slowed, then stopped. The doors opened to reveal the 8th floor. The room was so immensely large and dark that it seemed to go on forever. As far as I could see, the room was filled with long rectangular tables. I looked further in until the tables faded into the darkness. Seated at these tables were large individuals crammed side by side.
From the left flew a short, fat ghost trailing green slime everywhere he went. He found those in the elevator with the appointed number 8 and bade them to follow. Again the Poet dragged me behind them. The ghost guided each new arrival to his seat. Before them was a large pot of leftovers mixed together and as soon as they sat they began to eat. Those around them would occasionally vomit, then begin eating again. The pots never emptied, and the gluttons grew larger.
From behind I heard a noise and, as I turned, a man of a grotesque size exploded. Debris landed everywhere, and the people continued to eat. The man, now much smaller but still obese, resumed his position and dug in. I recognized this man as one from childhood known as Albert. Fat Albert.
We soon arrived at the elevator again. As we descended, Dr. Suess informed me that we will eventually meet Satan. On that happy note, I walked onto the next floor.
Everyone was on one side of the room. People were shaking, having convulsions, and mumbling and shouting nonsense about obvious hallucinations. A man screamed in pain as imaginary bees stung him. He ran to the other side of the room and straight into the wall which, to my horror, was built of hypodermic needles. The man crawled back to the other side of the room shaking. This man was the famous King, the one and only Elvis Presley. Next to him sat the detective Sherlock Holmes. As we walked away, I wondered if he was devising a plan of escape.
Next were those filled with perversion and adultery. A creature – so grotesque I felt a great urge to vomit – ran to us and showered us with proclamations of our beauty. I asked its name and it answered, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you my real name, for I don’t remember it. In life I was referred to as Peeping Tom. Here I am not referred to, only stared at and forced to stare. Everyone here is drowned in supreme ugliness and deformations, which change from time to time so we can never get used to them.”
With that his skin bubbled and his eyes hung out. We quickly turned and headed for the elevator. As the doors closed, I caught a quick but startling glimpse of John Kennedy, beloved President. That glimpse was to stay with me even after my Journey.
We didn’t stay long on the 5th floor, home of Benedict Arnold and all those like him. They ran around with axes and swords cutting at each other, occasionally stopping to hold a limb in place until it healed.
On the next floor were the thieves, those who took from others. It was their fate to sneak up to others and try to “swap” parts of themselves. If a man had brown eyes and wanted green, he would rip them out of another and exchange them for his. As I watched men try on their new arms for size, I noticed two women reaching for the same nose. When they realized the other’s intentions, they pounced on each other and fought like wild cats.
As to who won I don’t know, for a man approached me and attempted to yank my arm off. I turned and asked him his business. Seeing that I was “real”, he began to question me about Jesus Christ. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of Him, but He was quite famous when I was living. Would you know if He really was the Messiah?” I told him of course He is. With that, he began to brag that he was crucified right next to Jesus, and had even called Him names. I turned in disgust and walked back to the elevator.
By now it was getting very hot. Somehow I didn’t feel it, but those around me did. The elevator walls began to glow orange and the floor was a pool of sweat.
On the third floor were those who were prejudice against others. Demons flew around the sinners, who were knee-deep in beetles and spiders and other small things. The demons took on the forms of blacks, hmongs, Indians, Jews, Polacks, etc. and ridiculed the people as they whipped them. The bugs climbed all over them, biting and stinging.
As we re-entered the elevator, a demon pushed a man in whom I recognized and detested. I asked the Poet what they were doing with him and his answer was: Hitler as a sinner is both a Jew-hater and a murderer and shall suffer twice as much.
We finally got to the worst sinners: the brutal murderers of most often innocent lives. Only 2 people did I recognize from recent history. These were Lee Harvey Oswald and Ted Bundy. Although it appeared as though they got the lightest of punishments, they truly suffered the worst. Their punishment was that they were made good. Completely and wholly good. Every day they were aware of the beauty of heaven they were without. But worst of all is the pain of remembering their crimes, and knowing that they can never be forgiven.
When I entered the elevator I shook to think of the beast I would encounter. It seemed years before the elevator slowed and the doors opened. And when they did, all I could see were great balls of fire.
Suddenly I heard an evil laugh and out of the flames flew a black angel. Its face could turn Medusa to stone. As it swooped down upon me, white angels flew all around me and praised the Lord loudly. The black angel shrunk back and flew to the flames.
Before I knew it, we were back in the elevator. We went to the roof where the helicopter was waiting and there I flew off to begin another adventure.
THE END
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