It is a place where the screaming never stops…but they’re not screams of pain, or terror, or deranged horror.
They are, in fact, the screams of children…children being dragged along by their parents during busy shopping seasons. The whining, shrieking, bratty, bored cacophony of mindless discontent and attention seeking.
Also, a really bad lighting setup. Surprisingly effective, I’ll tell you now.
Nothing to eat but oatmeal. I really hate oatmeal.
Country music 24/7 and the playlist is about maybe 50 songs long.
Everywhere you go there are throngs of people, just jammed in asshole to elbow and nobody bathes quite often enough and they all smell just a bit off, just enough that your nose never totally acclimates and you’re always thinking “what’s that smell?” They also talk constantly, about six decibels louder than the loudest comfortable conversational tone. They all walk slow, too.
Hell for me would be anyplace where I learn everything there is to know and have nothing left. It would be torture to be bored forever because there is NOTHING more to learn and do that I haven’t done before. Treading over “well worn ground” is great, but the prospect of NOTHING else new would be pure horror.
FOR CHILDREN!!!
(There. I could resist no longer.)
Hell is living in a house where all the walls are covered with paintings . . . by Thomas Kinkade.
You are dead on; I’ve been there too many times. But, it works out well in poker games.
Hell is cold and dark and everyone but you smokes. The background music is gangsta rap and country, sometimes combined. People keep pressing alcohol on you. There is no space; always you are surrounded by people jamming their elbows, genitalia, bad breath, and everything else into your personal space.
Old Joke:
Guy wakes up in hell, smells brimstone and sulfur, sees lava pits, etc. “Oh crap! I’m in Hell!”
“Relax” says a nearby demon. “This place ain’t so bad. Lemme ask you, do you like gambling?”
“Yeah, I gambled all the time.”
“Well. Monday is gambling night. We’ve got it all! We’ve got blackjack, roulette, poker, craps, ponies, football, whatever you want. You’re credit’s always good and the house don’t never cheat. Now, do you like to drink?”
“Oh hell yes, I was a raging drunk.”
“Well you’ll love Tuesdays. It’s drinking night! We’ve got beer, fine wine, single malt scotch, ice cold dry martinis, whatever you want. It’s an open bar and you won’t get a hangover. Do you do drugs?”
“Absolutely. I think that’s what killed me.”
“Well you’ll love Wednesdays. It’s trip night! We’ve got pot, acid, coke, pills, and whatever booze is left from last night. We’ve got a laser show, Aphex Twin and Pink Floyd on the jukebox. And you can’t OD cause you’re already dead.”
“This place is awesome!”
“It sure is! One last question: Are you gay?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Ooooooohh, you’re gonna hate Thursdays.”
That’s not too bad. More like purgatory.
My hell is where the two political parties are the Westboro Baptists and the PETA freaks, the music is all rap and Britney Spears, and everyone is a drunken slut.
Valete,
Vox Imperatoris
ETA: And really hot all the time with LOUD music.
Aw I wanted to have this on my hell list. Party pooper. 
So what does that leave me?
[ul]
[li]An eternity with only my husband’s ex-wife, my mother, and Ann Coulter[/li][li]All really bad Christian music (think something like the Chuckwagon Gang) all the time at earth shattering volumes[/li][li]Nothing to eat but beans[/li][li]Extreme cold[/li][li]Excrutiating migrains[/li][li]Only the Hallmark channel to watch on a tiny black and white TV with poor reception[/li][li]Only Reader’s Digest and the Left Behind books to read[/li][li]And never being able to brush your teeth, bathe or answer nature’s call[/li][li]All inside a closet[/li][/ul]
Hell is someplace where it doesn’t matter what you’ve done in life, or what you tried to do, only what you failed to do or never tried.
It’s the land of Too Late, where you have to watch movies of what might have been.
It’s where they send people who never understood that life is not fair.
It is the place where everybody’s a loser in their own special way, where you pay for every last little human frailty, failing or fear.
God actually lives in hell, but He is a master emotional torturer, a metaphysical drill sergeant, there to make sure that you can’t win, but you gotta play the game.
Hell is a place where you’re trapped with your least favorite acquaintance. Not someone you hate, just someone who bores or annoys you to crazy. And you can see all of your friends, each in the same situation. But you can’t save each other, or even communicate with each other. And you just ran out of booze.
All Christmas music, all the time
Too much perfume
Cold
Crowded
No sunlight
(Hmm, sounds kinda like Aspen! If not for the cold it would sound like Macy’s.)
Back in art school we had one aquarel week every season, genuinely hated by everyone.
At the end of one of thoose, where everyone almost had chewed their arm of in frustration, five of us where sitting around a still life-arrangement, when a guy suddenly broke the silence and said ‘in hell, they sit and paint aquarel for all of eternity’. We all laughed and agreed.
Having to work really hard at something that can never be accomplished. A specific example comes to mind.
You’re commanded and coerced into taking spoonfuls of dirt, one at a time, from one place to another until you have built a pile as large as the earth. Then, you realize that comparing that pile to the amount of dirt left that you have to scoop is like comparing a spoonful of dirt to the earth. We’re talking jillions and jillions of millenia to complete. Long enough that it might as well be “forever”.
Hell is fresh packs of cigarettes as far as the eye can see, and an empty lighter.
This reminds me of another Prachett-ism to try and put eternity into context.
There is a bird that flies once every 1000 years to a mountain the size of Mt Everest. Every thousand years the bird sharpens its beak on the mountain wearing it away a tiny amount. This goes on and on, every 1000 years a tiny bit of mountain is worn away. Now, when the mountain has been worn away to nothing, countless years later, you’ll still be watching the Sound of Music.
Saying that he was describing Heaven there, but that’s a sobering image to have when contemplating doing ANYTHING forever.
And as a life-long tee-totaller I already live in EpisNonsene’s hell. 
Hey, I had missed that one.
I can sympathize, but I can provide you with a worse fate : Hell is myopic omniscience. You know everything, but you just can never quite recall whatever it is you want to know right now. It’s on the tip of your brain, as it were. All. The. Time.
Considering I’m 100% sure I’m more fit than him and could win a fight against him in any situation I doubt this would be all that bad of a hell for me. I guess the worst of it would be sore and broken knuckles and eventual boredom.
Sure, for the first couple of months or even years.
After that, he’s learned all your tricks, learned new tactics of his own, gotten in better shape, and so forth.
Before you know it, he’s whipping your ass, sitting on top of you and sermonizing his insane philosophy to your unwilling ears.