versions of hell

I had taken the antenna off the TV and turned the sound off so that all it produced was a flickering static glow-- the only light in the room other than this stupid computer screen. For sound I had the FM receiver turned up really loud in constant scan mode. 10 seconds of every kind of crap you can get on the radio, move on to the next crap. I always set shit up this way when I'm very drunk and very depressed. Sometimes it makes me type shit. Sometimes it just makes me drink more. Either way I'm bathed in beautiful chaos.

The radio stopped on Cher doing a cover of 'I Will Always Love You'. I downed the bottom half of my beer and threw the bottle into the fireplace. It didn't even break. Fucker. That's it, by God, the time had come. Again. I belched, pulled the pistol out of the drawer, held it to my nose. Gun oil smells and reminders of past discharges. I put the slick, nasty-bitter tasting barrel in my mouth, Hitler style. See, the cops will tell you to put the muzzle to the roof of your mouth at about a 45-degree angle. This way the hollow-point will remove the top of your head from the eyes up. No chance of survival. Not like the poor bastards who watched too many movies and put it to their temple. Blow out both optic nerves and still live, blind, with a small scar on one side and a droopy hairless scarred skin-crater on the other. My thumb started the hammer back to the kill-click.

A thought stopped it.

What if God follows up on his threat of Hell for this kind of shenanigan? And if I pulled the trigger at this moment my little Hell would be sitting in front of a computer in the static light with the radio loudly scanning the same station over and over and over....Cher bleating 'I Will Always Love You' then 'If I Could Turn Back Time' then 'Half Breed'....Jeezus Milhous Nixon Christ.

"Fuck it," the alcohol said. My thumb pulled the hammer to the last click. I closed my eyes. My whole hand started to squeeze… the grip, the trigger… all. The radio, at that moment, scanned back to Cher.

I opened my eyes. I turned my head and pistol and hand toward the radio. The pistol barrel came out of my mouth with a slight painful snag of the front site across my bottom lip. Before Cher could escape into scan I shot her straight to Hell.