"There stands Jackie grotesquely, and he snarls,
examining the unworthy at the gate;
he judges and dispatches, tail in coils.
"He it was, cursed beast, who judged me so
on the earth above, in earlier life,
and said I was worthless every time.
"Never choosing me to be on his team!
Never! Not once! Sneering me and jeering,
Saying I was nothing but a clumsy shrimp!
"You see now his punishment—isn't it grand?
Condemned to choose for ever and ever
between nothing but losers and fumblers."
The intrepid guide, the young but wise Virge,
now led us through a hideous portal
into a vast and echoing cavern.
Men and insects alike trembled aghast
at the murky, unformed, endless reaches
of that grotto of abomination.
Naked forms of nubile adolescents
swept past as if caught in a mighty gale,
a torrent of pale, pimply visages,
Their eyes streaming tears, their mouths wide open,
their arms outstretched, a look of hopelessness
horrid on each and every girlish face.
"Ha! Ha!" cried young Virge, pointing to one girl.
"You see there that one? Pleading and begging?
Ha! Ha! That's Judy Winfield herself,
"Who laughed at me when I asked her to the prom,
sneering and jeering, calling me a geek.
Who's getting turned down now, Judy?
"Tell me that! Ha! Ha! Look at her whirl away!
Condemned to everlasting rejection!"
So spoke the doughty lad who was our guide.
Not that bad, sayeth the mage! Ha!
Judge for yourself, why don't you?
And if you're whining already, tough. We had to wade through the whole journey to the heart of the Inferno in that fashion.
Here, have some more:
We were now in the third circle, a realm
of cold and rain, a cursed and dreary place,
where an endless line of condemned sinners
Trudged past, hopeless, their sinuses swollen,
coughing and hacking, wheezing and sniffling,
Blowing their noses, endlessly groaning.
"And who are these piteous souls?" asked the strangler.
"I note they are ladies of mature age,
their faces filled with care and concern."
"Not so!" cried young Virge, who suddenly sprang
at one figure slogging by, kicking her
and reviling her with youthful vigor.
"They deserve their fate, each and every one!"
shouted our guide. "These here are the mothers
who made their little children go to school
Even when the poor kids were sick abed!
There! You see that one?" asked wise young Virge,
pointing to a careworn gray-haired woman.
"That's my mother, the foul rotten creature.
Hey Ma! How's the weather today? Ha! Ha!
Listen to her sniffle, the poor old cow!"
Sweet, isn't it?
Sure, taking the Guide's Route gives you immunity from the perils of the Inferno, even from the CEO himself. But is it worth it? Just to avoid having to battle a million demons and devils and whatnot?
Think so?
Here, then! See if this changes your mind . . .
And then we started down a fourth abyss,
making our way along the dismal slope
where all the evil of the world is dumped.
Along the slope, strewn about like boulders,
rested a multitude of condemned ones,
shackled to heavy chairs, their mouths agape.
About them, clutching horrible iron
implements of fell and fearsome design,
capered horned devils and barb-tailed imps.
"This place is the doom reserved for dentists,"
explained the wise young Virge. My own dentist,
the swine, moans somewhere here.
"But we cannot tarry, though it tempts me.
We must press on." And so saying, our guide
Hastened his steps and led us ever down.
Enough!
Wittgenstein was right. The poetry was that bad. Circle after circle of it. On and on, just like that. A pimply-faced adolescent's Guide to the Infernal Regions.
We couldn't do anything about it, either. That was the downside of using Zulkeh's clever little "alternate route." Once you go that way, you have to follow what the little snotnose brat who led us called the "Guide's Rules."
I whined at Zulkeh, but the wizard confirmed the bad news.
" 'Tis inescapable, I fear," he stated gloomily. "On this, Ignace, whatever may be their other points of contention, all the savants agree. I refer you in particular to the universally acknowledged masterwork of the literature, Alighieri Sfondrati-Piccolomini's Once is Enough! Whomsoever enters the Infernal Regions by utilizing the Guide's Route must agree to the Guide's Rules."
And that's that. So don't ask me to describe what we passed through on our way down to meet the CEO of the Infernal Regions. I can't do it. Not unless you want more of that crap which "the wise young Virge" calls "terser reamer" or something like that.
It doesn't get any better, either, not until we get past the interview—if you'll allow me to use the term—with the Chief Evildoer himself. (And, yeah, that came as news to me too. I'd sort of assumed we'd be sneaking past him or something. Turns out if you take the Guide's Route you can't. Marvelous, huh? Imagine my reaction at the time! That damned Zulkeh! Never trust a mage!)
Anyway, after what seemed an endless time listening to "the wise young" Snotnose droning on and on, we finally debouched onto the lowest level. It's not the ninth, by the way—that's a myth started by that Alighieri fellow in order to get tenure. The truth is, he had no more idea than we did which level it is, but I guess he couldn't very well put that in his doctoral dissertation. The Infernal Regions don't follow the same numbering rules which the rest of the universe does. Something to do with Chaos, the way I understand it.
You can imagine my sigh of relief.
Sigh. No dice. Once you buy into the Guide's Rules you're stuck with them, even after the Guide himself bows out of the picture. Which "the wise young Virge" did as soon as the CEO loomed into sight. You can say what you want about the Prince of Darkness, but he ain't all bad. At least he doesn't tolerate lippy teenagers.
So "the wise young Virge" scuttled away and I thought we were home free. Not a chance. The next thing I knew, the whole area was resounding with the chatter of about a jillion imps, all prattling away in what the bedamned scholars call a "classical chorus."
I groaned. Hrundig grinned.
"You think this is bad?
You ought to see the
Guide's Rules in my homeland's
version of eternal damnation."
I groaned again.
Since you might be interested—heh—and since I'm a firm believer in the wise man's saw that "misery conscripts company," here's what happened then:
THE CHORUS OF IMPS: They come! They come!
Arrivistes!
CEO OF THE INFERNAL Whence come ye, mortals?
REGIONS: And by whose leave?
ZULKEH OF GOIMR, From above, Foul One.
PHYSICIAN: And our leave is sufficient,
The will of my own intellect.
CEO OF THE INFERNAL For what purpose then?
REGIONS: And by whose fell design?
THE CHORUS OF IMPS: By whose fell design?
Speak! Speak!
ZULKEH OF GOIMR, For the purpose of discovering
PHYSICIAN: All secrets of Joetry.
As for the design,
From far Pryggia it comes,
Dispatched by Magrit's hand,
Whose withered veins and
Talons held the might to cast
Her mission unto decrepit
Goimr, tumored city of
Once-proud kings,
Now overthrown, their dynasty
Brought to ruination,
Whose wretched hovels huddle
By the very woods whose shade
Once dappled fair Gwendolyn,
The long hours she strode,
Her keen eyes searching
Every shadow for sign of peril
Whilst her mind wandered,
Pondering the newfound love
Discovered in the unexpected
Form of the hated intruder
From haughty imperial Ozar.
THE CHORUS OF IMPS: Cut to the chase!
Cut to the chase!
ZULKEH OF GOIMR, Now the bone fought over by
PHYSICIAN: Miscreants mad and military
Who sought in vain to
Forestall the shrewd acumen
Of the mage Zulkeh,
That is myself, who, now
Apprised of Magrit's vision,
Seeks to wrest from all
Powers, be they high or low
The truth concerning the fell
Dream of the dotard king.
THE CHORUS OF IMPS: Get to the point!
Get to the point!
ZULKEH OF GOIMR, Bah! Impudent imps!
PHYSICIAN: Foul Vizier of Vileness!
I demand the truth, all
That is known in Hell
Anent the ancient Joe,
Who invented everything.
CEO OF THE INFERNAL Not a chance, Zulkeh.
REGIONS:
THE CHORUS OF IMPS: What a clown!
What a clown!
ZULKEH OF GOIMR, Bah! Impudent archdevil!
PHYSICIAN: Desist, Lord of Lies.
I am impatient, for even as
I pontificate in epic meter,
Time wanes.
CEO OF THE INFERNAL I'm dying here. Dying!
REGIONS: Of laughter. Not a chance,
Zulkeh of Goimr. Ask me
Something serious.
ZULKEH OF GOIMR, Since you insist!
PHYSICIAN: Where is fair Gwendolyn's
Former squeeze?
THE CHORUS OF IMPS: Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Hee! Hee! Hee!
CEO OF THE INFERNAL Gasp! Choke! Wheeze!
REGIONS: Gigglegigglegiggle.
He's in Even Worse Hands
Than me! Gasp! Choke!
Thattaway.
So off we went, before the CEO of the Infernal Regions and his minions could stop laughing. True, he'd pointed us to the door himself, so by all rights he could hardly object to our following his directions. But they don't call him the Archdevil for nothing.
According to the Guide's Rules, I can't describe the door itself which led to the Place Even Worse Than Hell, but the inscription over it is within the guidelines:
Abandon All Hope
Ye Who Enter Here
And This Time We're Not Kidding
I was so relieved when the door closed behind us that I practically collapsed. I paid no attention to my surroundings. Some kind of huge grotto, glittering with light from what seemed like thousands of veins of peculiar minerals, glowing from within.
"Wonder what faces us next?" mused Greyboar.
"Don't care!" I gasped. "At least it'll come at us in prose!"