The Little Fudge Shoppe in Hell

After striking out with the snake, I had to give some careful thought to who to interview next about the question of why the work of the soul is never done. I thought about reading St. Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologica, because given how very long it is, it seems he must have said something about this, but I'm a dog. Every time I get near a book I'd rather chew on it.

The thought of chewing on things caused me, impulsively, to head for the Little Fudge Shoppe in Hell.

Now, of course, you are going to ask me what the Little Fudge Shoppe in Hell is, because like me you’re annoyingly inqusitive. This particular concession is actually in Hell, not in purgatory. Given their vast size they share ample borders; but of course you can't just go into Hell from Purgatory any old time you want; there are standards. You either have to pay to get into Hell or be invited, and Satan keeps very strict rules on this. He is an absolute stickler on immigration policy; he only wants the worst. It’s a distressing fact that many mediocre and perhaps even good but delusional people—evil wannabes— try to get into Hell from time to time, because it's so much fun there (at least, so they have been told.) Such types are strongly discouraged. You need to be committed to evil to go to Hell. Not everyone is down to the standard.