Share your description of a little pocket of Hell

Here’s an example…

You’ve got a couple of headphones permanently bonded to your head and the only thing that plays is the refrain from those Fanta commercials…

“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”
“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”
“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”
“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”
“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”
“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”
“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”
“Wan-na Fanta… Wanna Fanta.”

for infinity…

Being locked in a room with Ann Coulter and Gilbert Gottfried for all eternity.

Hey, can I borrow those “Fanta” headphones?

My fellow damned and I are in a room with many lab tables, scattered with equipment. From the front of the room Satan announces, “At each table, you will find the lab description and all the experimental aparatus you will need . . .”

Performing the experiment, I know, will not take long.

But the data analysis and writeup will take (dum DUM DUM!!!) ALL ETERNITY.

(I still have flashbacks to Intermediate Lab. sigh)

The enormous parking lot known as “the connector” (I75/85 in Atlanta).

Wait a minute – you specialize in the evolution of galaxies, right? No wonder your labs take so long! :smiley:

This may sound silly, but here goes. My little pocket of hell would be: Me in a room filled with mosquitoes, thousands of them. The bites would never stop. But the main torture for me would be the incessant buzz/whine of there horrible little wings. They drive me absolutely insane. That’s all.

Playing in an endless graduation processional.

Wiring up a plug, then realizing that I needed to slip a collar over the wire first. Over and over again.

Oh wait, that’s what happens to me every time anyway.

Not sure what the room would be like, but the sound would be the high-pitched whine of gas-powered weedeaters. I am convinced that is the noise people hear in their heads before they take a rifle up into a tower and start shooting.

“Attention, faculty. The State has changed the curricular guidelines again, so we will have to rewrite everything. Again. Please meet by department. The Adminsitrators will help provide guidance in this project.”

Getting a court order to a) stop my antidepressant medication and go to work for msmith537 or b) do hard time.

A family feast of some sort, where every relative is in his most obnoxious behavior and of course I get seated at a table where the 2nd youngest person is at least 27 years older than myself.
Yeah, that describes the last 3 weddings I went to, why do you ask?

I am absolutely certain that hell is a place where every bug I ever killed is waiting for me, and they’re pissed.

Nope, I’m a planets person. Maybe you’re thinking of Angua?

Stuck in my cubicle taking phone call after phone call from people with impossibly complex computer issues who don’t know where their ‘any’ key is.

Philadelphia’s schuylkill (aka sure kill) expressway.


In a small room with a desk and a moulded plastic chair, forced to measure things and rule straight lines for all eternity.

I think it’s gasoline leaf blowers.

[li]grading final exams one after another, one after another, one after another, … AAAAAAAEEEEEIIIIIIIII!!![/li][li]listening to a boring monotone interminable lecture in a hot stuffy room[/li][li]sitting in the middle seat on a flight between two calorically challenged passengers and in front of a kid who has a leg spasm that causes him to kick every 20 seconds[/li][/ul]

Waiting in line. Hell is a long line that moves slightly every 20 minutes or so, making you feel like there is progress but you never actually get anywhere.