[209] What Are You Afraid Of?
Giant psychic Anti-Christ freaks who like playing with Daddy's guns.
[locked from the general population, sans Sam Winchester]
All joking aside, Hell.
What did you think it was going to be something different? Come on now; don't be foolish, it doesn't look good on you. There's a reason I left. Hell isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I'd rather laugh with the sinners then cry with the saints.
At least I'll be in good company.
No, you don't, and no, you won't. Hell is, for lack of a better word, HELL. Think about it, kiddos; demons, ghosts and hell beasts oh my! No one wants to go to Hell, and if you do then you're a Darwin Award waiting to happen and maybe you should get your dumb, ignorant ass stuck there.
Touchy, you say? Why yes, I am.
Hell is not hot, nor balmy with a nice breeze running past the pits of Hellfire and through the rain of fire coming from over head. Hell is cold. It's a literal pit of despair that forces you to relive your worst moments over and over. The cold seeps in until it's the only thing you have left.
You think you can handle it, but you can't. It's impossible. You're drawn to the fear, the pain, the horror, like a moth is drawn to a flame. Like a cheerleader is drawn to a 50% off sale at Saks.
But really, if you think Hell's the place for you, have at it. I'm certainly not stopping you.
I would rather live an eternity amongst idiots, humans, then go back there. I'll be on the fence until then, until Sam pulls the Colt on me again and finally finds the balls to pull the trigger.
I figure I've got a good six or seven months until then. It's better to face your fears standing up than begging on your knees. Plus, Sammy's so damn tall I'd need to be standing up for that epic showdown to look pretty.
[locked from the general population, sans Sam Winchester]
All joking aside, Hell.
What did you think it was going to be something different? Come on now; don't be foolish, it doesn't look good on you. There's a reason I left. Hell isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I'd rather laugh with the sinners then cry with the saints.
At least I'll be in good company.
No, you don't, and no, you won't. Hell is, for lack of a better word, HELL. Think about it, kiddos; demons, ghosts and hell beasts oh my! No one wants to go to Hell, and if you do then you're a Darwin Award waiting to happen and maybe you should get your dumb, ignorant ass stuck there.
Touchy, you say? Why yes, I am.
Hell is not hot, nor balmy with a nice breeze running past the pits of Hellfire and through the rain of fire coming from over head. Hell is cold. It's a literal pit of despair that forces you to relive your worst moments over and over. The cold seeps in until it's the only thing you have left.
You think you can handle it, but you can't. It's impossible. You're drawn to the fear, the pain, the horror, like a moth is drawn to a flame. Like a cheerleader is drawn to a 50% off sale at Saks.
But really, if you think Hell's the place for you, have at it. I'm certainly not stopping you.
I would rather live an eternity amongst idiots, humans, then go back there. I'll be on the fence until then, until Sam pulls the Colt on me again and finally finds the balls to pull the trigger.
I figure I've got a good six or seven months until then. It's better to face your fears standing up than begging on your knees. Plus, Sammy's so damn tall I'd need to be standing up for that epic showdown to look pretty.