A Slinky, a Slinky, for fun it's a wonderful toy!

The other day, I heard someone say the following:

The guy is a Slinky. Essentially useless, but still fun to push
down a flight of stairs.

.
.
.
.

It's wrong to find that amusing, isn't it? See, this is why I'm going to hell.

Well. One of the reasons. Anyway.

I'm certain I'll be able to save a seat for a few people, but you know, you just know they're going to put some real jerks in my section. It is, after all, hell.

On the up side, unlike Heaven, there will be plenty to complain about. See? Glass half full.

And I also know, after any length of time, I will annoy even the most saintly of people, so eternity in hell, where I imagine hot yoga will be mandatory, the irritation level will get pretty high, pretty quickly.

I have a picture in my head of an angry guy with little horns, pounding on the pearly gates not long after my arrival. Whomever answers will have the burden of a rather pithy conversation. "Look," he'll probably say. "I know she can't be up here, but this is not working for me."

Maybe they'll give me my own section.

I'm sure there would be nothing good on TV, though.