text: "Christ alive, it's a busy one today" "Yep. I guess all those sick bastards have to come somewhere, right?" "So let's see what we have today. 412 rapists, 982 thieves, 636 killers, and 290 animal abusers. and that's just the morning batch!" "Dave. We're literally in hell. Why do you sound so surprised? Were you expecting priests?" "We actually have a few of those too" "Funny. Just hurry up and process them. We can't have the reception area too full, for long - we need to keep this shit going smoothly. Satan is on my ass. Why am I even telling you this? You've been doing this for 10,000 years. You should know the drill by now. Anyway, I need to head to management. There's been a mix up in torture routines. 300 liars got castrated and 200 rapists got their tongues ripped out. It's a fucking shit-show. Loads of paperwork. Get these bastards processed and to their torture chambers ASAP." "Yeah, yeah I'll see you later." Bob snapped his fingers and was reduced to ashes in an instant. Dave stood there for a moment, reluctant to begin the task set before him. He groggily made his way back to his desk and collapsed onto the chair. In front of him, was a line of human beings that stretched as far as his eye could see. Dave sighed. "NEXT" He shouted. A man approached Dave's desk. He was middle-aged, short, fat and balding with a tragic comb-over. He wore a blood-stained suit and was genuinely looking a little shaken. "Full name and Date of birth please," Dave said in a monotone voice. "r..r..r..ryan a..adams" 12th of the 3rd 1969." "hmm.. ryan.... ryran...Ah! Ryan! Here we go. First-degree murder of your wife. Sin-date 23rd of 2nd 1997. Place your left hand here on the outline." Dave gestured to the outline of a hand on the left corner of the desk. "Please..wait.. you don't understand.. I was drunk.. I caught her chea-" Dave interrupted. "Place your hand HERE" Dave pointed firmly again to the outline of a hand on the desk. Ryan sheepishly lifted his arm up and slowly placed his left hand on the desk, while looking ever so squeamish. Dave opened the draw and selected the appropriate branding iron. He took it out the drawer and slammed the burning hot end onto Ryan's hand, with a great force. Ryan tried to pull back but a strange force was keeping his hand stuck to the table. He released the loudest screech Dave had ever heard, and within seconds, vanished into nothing. "He'll love it here." Dave thought. "..NEXT..." It had been 96 hours. Dave was tired and practically falling asleep. He had gotten through 1048 candidates. "NEXT" He shouted. Only this time, no one moved. "NEXT!" Dave shouted even louder. Again, the line remained the same and no one moved. "HELLO? I SAID NEXT! WHY AREN'T YOU MOVING FORWARD?" Sat from his desk, he made eye contact with the person next in line. "What's going on!? Hello?? Why aren't you moving forward?" Dave questioned. He could see the human looking visibly confused. Dave sat there for a moment wondering what the actual hell was going on. "Hello? I'm talking to you? Do you understand?" Dave was more confused than angry. The individual at the front of the line seemed to only get more anxious and kept nervously looking away. Dave was absolutely stumped. He grew angry. As he opened his mouth and drew breath to shout his next word, he heard a strange sound. He stopped and remained silent for a moment, waiting to hear if the noise repeated itself. "Meow" Dave froze. He sat in his chair, mind racing. A sound he hasn't heard in over 7000 years seemed to be coming from right in front of him. Dave slowly stood up and by Satan as his witness, there it was. A small black cat, licking its paws less than half a meter from his desk. He had almost forgotten what a cat looked like. The only thing he could think of; "This isn't possible. Animals are forbidden from entering hell. Yet here one was?" Without breaking his gaze from the feline, he felt for the contact switch on the underside of his desk and flipped it. Seconds later, a booming voice echoed from the fiery skies. "Dave, you fucking moron, what is it? This better be good!" Bob was known to be a dick. "Bob. I don't really know how to say this. So I'll just be direct. There's a cat at the front of the line." There was silence. "So you really think I have time to play these stupid games with you." Replied bob in an aggressive manner. "Bob, there's a fucking cat down here. It's looking right at me. It's sat at the front of the line. Can you please get down here right now." This time bob sensed the desperate tone in Dave's voice. The echoing voice disappeared and in an instant appeared Bob, from a fiery ball of ash. Dave and Bob, stood next to each other dumbfounded. Both of them were speechless. None of them could believe what they were seeing. After 10 minutes of staring Bob finally mustered up the energy to speak. "It's a cat. An actual fucking cat. Here. In Hell? No animal has ever been sent to hell. It's forbidden.. Just... how..? I've been here for almost 450 thousand years. I...I don't know what to do.." "Maybe it can talk? Shall we ask it something? Maybe it's some sort of super demon?" suggested Dave. He was knew he was grasping at straws here. They both had no clue. With his heart pounding Dave moved a little closer to the small animal, who was currently cleaning its crotch. "w..w..w..who..are.. y....y..you? whimpered Dave. The cat stopped. Looked up at Dave. The feline nimbly jumped up onto the desk and regained direct eye contact. It opened it's mouth and said; "Well, I thought you'd never ask.