Friday, November 7, 2008

Fleas in his Ear


Howard Johansson had a flea in his ear. His wife never left him to enjoy a moment’s peace.

“Have you put the bins out?” she’d say. “Have you cleared the leaves off the lawn? Done the washing up? Put that new hinge on the back gate?”

I think he was glad to die. To slip off the stool of life with the noose around his neck. All suicides go to Hell by default – there’s no need for the usual contested reckoning with a member of the other side’s collection agency, but Howard had another reason for coming downstairs, and it garnered him a much higher rating than the Wood of Suicides.

Not content with a flea, he’d placed a flesh eating beetle in his wife’s ear.

We set him next to her for eternity.

6 comments:

aims said...

Ah! What goes around comes around.

Yes.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Sometimes justice is in Hell

stephanie said...

Yikes! Retribution does not equal escape. ;)

Leatherdykeuk said...

His wife was pleased to see him. "Just look at the colour of that burning oil!"

Stinking Billy said...

Rachel, your posts and your comments seem to be gathering atrocities apace at the moment. Do you know something we don't? Keep us in the loop, won't you, dear girl? ;-)

Leatherdykeuk said...

Billy - I'm in the middle of writing another novel, so Jasfoup has little time for his blog after dictating that. Perforce he's giving me some recollections of the souls he's collected over the years.