Unoriginal, much? Satan needs to hire an interior designer, because that's just sad.
I want to be shocked and appalled when I go to Hell. Not bored.
What's the point if you don't feel like you've earned it?
[There's a lot to unpack in what Kabal said. Len isn't directly approaching the worst of it on purpose. He can't imagine what that kind of helplessness would feel like.
Len's closest experience would be childhood, living under his father's thumb. A lock-picking puppet and convenient punching-bag. The difference being, his personal hell wasn't entirely without light. There were moments of joy with Lisa, and excitement in learning a trade he not only enjoyed, but was very good at.
Being able to talk back, or climb out the window when he wanted to, even if it meant he lost his baby teeth early, was its own kind of freedom.
He's quiet for a moment, but doesn't take too long to pipe back up. Doesn't let the moment fall into awkward silence.]
Maybe you didn't win his creepy little game of Dungeons & Douchebags, but neither did he.
There's probably some lower, crappier level of hell that's just waiting on hold with telemarketers, waking up naked in public, and being forced to watch all the ways you've ever embarrassed yourself on candid camera, with yakety-sax playing in the background.
That's where the real pricks gotta go. He's probably sharing a single with my old man.
no subject
I want to be shocked and appalled when I go to Hell. Not bored.
What's the point if you don't feel like you've earned it?
[There's a lot to unpack in what Kabal said. Len isn't directly approaching the worst of it on purpose. He can't imagine what that kind of helplessness would feel like.
Len's closest experience would be childhood, living under his father's thumb. A lock-picking puppet and convenient punching-bag. The difference being, his personal hell wasn't entirely without light. There were moments of joy with Lisa, and excitement in learning a trade he not only enjoyed, but was very good at.
Being able to talk back, or climb out the window when he wanted to, even if it meant he lost his baby teeth early, was its own kind of freedom.
He's quiet for a moment, but doesn't take too long to pipe back up. Doesn't let the moment fall into awkward silence.]
Maybe you didn't win his creepy little game of Dungeons & Douchebags, but neither did he.
There's probably some lower, crappier level of hell that's just waiting on hold with telemarketers, waking up naked in public, and being forced to watch all the ways you've ever embarrassed yourself on candid camera, with yakety-sax playing in the background.
That's where the real pricks gotta go. He's probably sharing a single with my old man.
And you're here, sharing a king with me.