Seven Love Letters From Hell

THE 1ST LETTER

Dear Mary,

I write to you from the the deepest, darkest and hottest place I have ever seen without being between your legs. I apologize in advance for the ugly calligraphy and orthographical mistakes. It is really dark in here and I can’t hardly see what I am writing but I have to hurry because the paper is roasting before my eyes and the ink of my borrowed ball-pen evaporating.

I must confess I am a little mad at you. To bury that hammer in my head wasn’t a nice thing to do, I think you overreacted. I was just having this little chat with your sister when my penis accidentally slipped in her mouth and we were trying to undo the mess when you came into the bedroom. You jumped too fast to the wrong conclusion! If you don’t believe me you can ask our daughter that was there. She saw what happened and was laughing all the time, specially when I undressed just to prove a point in a discussion about anatomy completely unrelated to the incident and she found that I had a fifth limb and that it could spit.

I am not sure what the hell is going on in here and the cell phone’s coverage is out. So much for the fucking Economy Plan! This damn mobile phone companies. They let you down as soon as you are dead and can’t pay the bills.

As I said is pitch black in here and very hot, like when we went for vacations to the Caribbean and there was that hurricane and we got dysentery. What a laugh! I was raped by locals while you took pictures and then to console me you bought me that funny figurine of a Elvis made of coconut shell that I hated so much and you always insisted me to wear on the top of my head. Those were really good times Mary! Don’t you remember? How can be you so callous after so many years of marriage?

Well, I have to leave now. I am standing in a sulphur lake and the skin of my feet is beginning to corrode. I will write to you soon if I can find a mail box, the only one I can see from here is melting away because the heat and I don’t think I will be able to find the hole in the molten heap in time. I love you. Please write me back. I am very sorry for what happened. If you give me the opportunity I will make it up for you. I will take you for dinner to that French place and I will behave as a gentleman. I promise. I won’t make any jokes about the maitre’s funny speech like I did last time.

With everlasting love,

Marty

THE 2ND LETTER

My dear Mary,

I still haven’t got a reply for my previous letter. I hope you got it. The mail service here is awful. The postman had his legs eaten by a vicious dog and letters take a long time to reach their destination, especially the heavier ones that have so many letters on them.

You should come here once in a while and I would show you around. This place is not so bad as I though at the beginning. The views are splendid, sulphur lakes, molten rock rivers and fireworks show twenty-four hours a day! Can you believe that? Better than Las Vegas, although the waitresses are not so attractive. I don’t like little red skinny women with hoofs, specially if they pick me with a two meter long pitchfork. Did you know one the reasons I married you was that you were the first girl with no hoofs that ever paid the slightest attention to me? Doesn’t that tell something about how much I love you? Aren’t you going not to forgive me?

I must leave. They are calling through the speakers system for a meeting becuse there is some big shot coming. I see him from here. He is big and red and has horns the size of bazookas. Please, write me. I miss you.

Lots of love,

Marty

THE 3RD LETTER

My dearest Mary,

I have some bad news. I am in Hell for eternity. They just told me and I got very scared. Then they told me what eternity was and I was terrified: apparently it lasts forever. When they told me that I almost collapsed. But then they said I could get two or three years reduction for good behavior. But may be they said that just because they saw how upset I was when I started to cry and wetted my pants. We’ll see.

I miss you very much. Why do you not answer my letters? Are you still mad at me? Yesterday I met a guy with a story similar to mine. A really funny guy from Madagascar. He told me his wife caught him in the act of raping a goat and murdered him by inserting an umbrella down his mouth, but the poor guy is as innocent as me: he mistook the goat for his wife because they both speak alike and it was quite dark. Do you really think I am that sort of pervert? At least your sister belongs to the same species. Did you think about that? Doesn’t that tell you about how much I love you and your species?

I will wait impatiently for and answer. I have to go now to a barbecue organized by the management. They told us to wash our feet before going, which doesn’t make too much sense to me.

Love,

Marty

PS. Can you send me clean underwear and some socks? My socks have burnt away and I want to look good in case Satan shows up for an inspection.

THE 4TH LETTER

My dearest beautiful Mary,

I still haven’t received any letter from you. Why don’t you write me? Are you seeing somebody? I hope not. Specially if his feet smell any better than mine.

I got the Fed Ex package with the clean underwear and fresh socks I asked for in my last letter. What is your problem? Do you only read the P.S.? Anyway, the underwear was starched beyond recognition, it feels like an armor and I can’t hardly bend. And the socks were mismatched. Please, be more careful next time. Is this your way to take revenge on me? By sending me over-starched clothing and mismatched socks?

How possibly can you still be mad at me for that long forgotten incident with your sister? Do you think I have feelings for her? How can you believe that? You know I never had any feelings for you after the wedding night. How can you think that I have them for your mentally retarded sister who has a prosthetic leg placed on her amputated arm? Do you think I could fall for such a woman? You know I can’t tolerate ignorant women who don’t know the meaning of the word cunnilingus.

In the bright side, I am beginning to make friends in here. They are a bunch of damn losers but they are an improvement compared to the sort of friends I had while still alive. And more fun too! Most of them are here due to medical negligence but there are some really interesting characters as well. Like Tom, an accountant for a big corporation that once performed anal sex with an auditor to obtain a tax exemption for the company he worked for. And he is still wondering how he go here, being a Mormon and all! He is a total wisecracker, you will meet him if you come to visit. I also met a really nice German girl that died because complications related to a colonic infection after a rubber glove got stuck inside her intestine. She is a really warm woman and we have innocent talks while walking by the sulphur lake not unlike I used to have with your sister. Her name is Ingrid Grossfucken, she used to be in the movie industry back in Germany and I have good reasons to believe she was not the wardrobe assistant.

Missing you so much, your defunct husband,

Marty

PS Can you send me my electric toothbrush, my teeth are beginning to rot and, believe it or not, there is not a single dentist in Hell.

THE 5TH LETTER

My dearest beautiful but silent Mary,

I begin to worry about you. After two thousand years I fear you might have forgotten about me and I need fresh underwear. In a place that literally smells like hell everybody looks at me as if I was a leper because my body odor. What have you been doing all these centuries? Have you found that comb that you lost when you tried to do the cat’s hair and the cat panicked? I just remembered it might have ended up under the chest drawer. Look there. When are you coming for a visit? I miss you.

Satan comes from century to century for an inspection just to make sure everybody is properly roasted and yesterday the Lord of the Abyss himself smeared some gravy in my back and praised my screams. I might get a promotion! You could move here and we could get tormented for eternity together? How does it sound? You always said you wanted man who commits. We can spend the eternity here. Isn’t that commitment or what?

I miss you,

Marty

PS. Forget about the toothbrush. All my teeth fell already, but I still feel attached to them so I carry them around in my pocket.

THE 6TH LETTER

My indifferent and maybe illiterate Mary,

I am beginning to lose my patience. I can’t believe that after a three-hundred million years you only could find time to write me a postcard from Bahamas saying: Having fun. Wish you were here, take care and stay out of trouble. Mary. LOL. Are you insane? Do you think I care about your vacations? What is your problem? And who is that asshole with the caipirinha and the straw hat in the picture? What is he doing with his filthy pawn in your ass?

Okay. I did it. I did rape you retarded forty-seven years old sister in front of our daughter. But I didn’t post the pictures in the internet. That was our daughter. I swear. Are you happy now? I confess. Can I go back, please? Should I go to Hell for what I did? She provoked me. She walked around the house naked and bathed in the fish tank and I bet she knew I was looking. What about that? She might not have been able to count beyond three but she did know how to provoke and erection.

I have no idea what is your problem with me if you don’t answer my letters. Women! It’s is always the same story, you want men to know what is going on but don’t give us a clue, and then you complain precisely because of that: that we do not listen to the things you do not say.

But I don’t want to upset you baby. I am doing very well in here. I’ve been in waiting list for an air conditioner for seven thousand years but they called yesterday to tell me they are coming for the installation soon and to stay in my cave from three to eight during the next millennium. If you come we are still on time to switch it on together.

Please come, I miss you,

Marty

THE 7TH LETTER

Listen to me bitch,

I am sick or your shit! Come here and pick me up or you will regret the day five billion years ago in which you were born!

Your sister doesn’t even remember what happened that day. What the hell! She doesn’t even remember ME after seven years spent screwing her with a paper bag in her head. I ran into her yesterday in a community meeting to demand better torments for the pedophile community. She stared at me blankly as if I were a stranger. Although that is exactly the way she always stared at me before, probably because her mental retardation. By the way, what did happen to her? She has put on some weight in spite of having lost the lower half or her body.

If you don’t answer this letter I swear I am writing you no more! I fucking swear!

Indifferently,

Marty