Would Barney count? I guess not, the person in the suit is probably not as bad as the character.
I am not a big fan of Fran Drescher, but it seems like there would be worse things than spending eternity with than a fairly attractive lady with an annoying voice.
For instance, Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Bundy, Gacy, Dahmer and Cheney are all great candidates. At least with Shrub I could talk baseball.
As far as Hitler, I am reminded of a certain Adam Sandler movie and wondering if the Isle would have a supply of pineapples?
Eternity with almost anyone, confined to a small space would be horrible. I actually suspect it would not matter. So, I guess the question comes down to who would drive you crazy the quickest.
I have a buttload of relatives that qualify, but I’ll have to take my mother in her later years, when she claimed she couldn’t hear me and she smoked cigarettes and hacked constantly.
A certain woman at work. While she is well loved by most, her mere presence makes me want to throttle her. And that’s before she starts tapping her fingernails.
A girl I went to school with. I was never sure if we were friends or not, and if I were to see her today I probably wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with her that didn’t involve yelling and an emotional breakdown from my side.
Not that there wouldn’t be a part of me that enjoyed ripping her a new one…
Although, I have a feeling that within a day there would be a fight to the death. I would rather drown than spend a month, much less eternity, with them. However, I don’t fight easy, and I imagine I wouldn’t be the one whose lungs ended up bursting.
This one guy at work who will get up and follow you if you try to walk away from his scintillating conversation. The only way to escape him is to enter the ladies’ room, and that’s only worked so far. Next week he might breach that too. Who can tell? Thing is, he’s a really sweet, really smart guy, he just will not shut up. Ever.
I doubt that would be the case for myself, at the very least. I’d probably be somewhat annoying at times, it’s true, but I find myself rather cute, so I think I could find ways to distract myself from annoyance.
My own personal hell would involve a small, screaming child. Probably at some point between six months and three years old. There would be no way to stop the child from screaming. An adult that was horrible company, I’d feel justified in hating. But a small, helpless child that I can do nothing for? Oh, man. I’d be sleep-deprived, anguished, likely smelling of baby bodily fluids, and I’d feel guilty for not being able to calm the kid down on top of it all.
Jean-Paul Sartre, supplied with an endless supply of cigarettes. I also can’t stand being around my mother for more than about three minutes, so she would also qualify.
I like Rod Serling’s (the love of your life) and CaerieD’s ideas, though.