They were in Hell. Had been for all eternity. Well, Frank had. Bill was a new arrival. Frank was still showing him the ropes. It wasn't so bad really. Most days they just hung out in their Ray-Bans and Speedos shootin' the shit, and once a week they each got to suck on an ice cube for fifteen minutes.

"Anything good on the tube?" Bill asked.

"Nah, the usual. They're running an all-week "Meryl Streep-A-Thon" on both channels."

"An entire week of Meryl Streep? If I wasn't already dead, I'd kill myself."

"Hey, suicide's a mortal sin!"

They looked at each other and burst into a fit of laughter.

"Frank . . . you're a real card."

"Yeah. Well, ya gotta do something to keep your spirits up when you don't get HBO."

"I hear they even get Cinemax up there."

"And the Playboy Channel."

"If only I'd known. Hey Frank, what'd you do to get sent to Hell anyway?"

"I burned down an orphanage, had sex with a horse, and drew a mustache on a portrait of Pat Robertson. How 'bout you?"

"I voted for McCain."

"Wow."

Just then the Iceman arrived, grunting and straining as he pushed a wheelbarrow piled-high with ice cubes. He was wearing a loincloth and had a huge thermometer tied around his neck; his hair on fire.

"What's up gents? It's Sunday. Time for your ice."

Frank checked the thermometer.

"Hmmm. 900 degrees. Not too bad. Think I'll skip the ice this week."

"Suit yourself. How about you newbie?"

"I'm with Frank. Pass."

The Iceman smiled, "Hey, you'll never guess who just checked in."

"Who?"

"Paris Hilton."

"No shit!"

"Yeah. She's lying out on the sundeck with Jerry Falwell."

"Paris Hilton . . ." Frank shook his head, "How'd she go?"

"Zapped. She was using her curling iron in the shower."

"How does she look?"

"Hot -- no pun intended. Well, I gotta book guys. Paris asked me to bring her a strawberry daiquiri and some zinc oxide cream."

"By the way, do you know your hair's on fire?"

"Again? Jesus, I have a real problem with that."

A siren blared; a fog horn sounded; along with a buzzer, bells and a steam whistle. A red light flashed.

"What's all the commotion?" Bill asked.

"Oh, that's just Satan." The Iceman said, "We're not allowed to say "Jesus" down here. Really pisses him off."

"Ever think of wearing a helmet to keep your hair from catching fire?"

The Iceman rolled his eyes, "Wear a helmet? In this heat?"

The Iceman took off with his wheelbarrow.

"Ironic; how Falwell got sent here and they made Larry Flynt a saint."

"Yeah. Why did they make Larry a saint? Bill asked, "Wasn't he a pornographer?"

"Funny story. Larry was on the set of a porno flick, when one of the new, high-speed vibrators they were using developed an overload. Even though he was in a wheelchair, Larry managed to throw himself on it just before it exploded. Saved the lives of the entire crew -- including the fluffer."

"Jesus!"

There went the bells, whistles and fog horn again.

"Damn."

"Yeah. You really gotta watch that."

"So, whattaya feel like doing today?"

"There's always Meryl Streep."

"I never did see 'Sophie's Choice'."

"I did -- 485,444 times. You're in for a real friggin' treat."