Sinners are told to make reservations, be packed up, and ready to hop on the slipper-slide ride down to hell. Upon their demise.
I don’t know about my sisters and brothers, but I can’t follow directions to the nearest convenience store – much less some fictional flame pit that laps at our souls.
However, upon contemplating it – it might not be a terrible alternative lodging. If as all the bigots espouse, they are going to fill the rafters of heaven – it’s probably already over-populated. A little ‘no vacancy’ sign would light up as I neared the outskirts of the celestial heavens.
And if it didn’t? Well, I’d rather reject my invitation. I don’t even like a chat with an intolerant crowd. Gives me a headache. And a heartache. So why would I waste eternity when my ears hurt from the hatred spewed?
Maybe hatred is synonymous with hell.
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