The Mustached Man Arrives

Charlie Chaplin reached out to pet the dog. Reflexively, the dog bit his finger, causing waves of pain to spread through his arm.

"Hey! I'm not going to hurt you. I'm only here because I'm a bit of a pedophile!"

The dog laid back down and once again closed his eyes. 

"I must ask, though, why is a dog in hell?"

The dog did not respond.

"God, here I am talking to a dog. Maybe I am stupid... At least I didn't ask to cut in line to get in here."

The dog still laid there and rested its eyes. Charlie Chaplin exited the 'house' of basalt and walked to talk to some neighbors.

"Did you see the dog coming into town?"

"Yeah, it's resting at my place right now."

"Does it bite?"

"Yeah, it bit me pretty hard when I tried to pet it. If this was earth, my whole finger would've come clean off!"

"So Charlie's finger was bitten this time?"

"What?"

"Ah... you wouldn't get it..."

"Am I known for biting people's fingers now!?"

"Don't worry about it. It's an old internet thing."

"What the fuck's an internet?"

As they continued on, a demon scout approached at a ridiculous speed. Coming to a stop from full speed in only a couple of seconds, her stature and momentum caused a breeze upon arrival.

"Hey boys, have you seen-"

"I PROMISE I DON'T BITE PEOPLE'S FUCKING FINGERS! THAT'S NOT WHO I AM! I'M JUST A PEDOPHILE!"

"Uhh..."

Charlie Chaplin rushed away out of sheer embarrassment. The demon scout turned to the other person standing there.

"Uhh... alright. Have you seen a dog anywhere? Satan is very interested."

"The dog was in Charlie's house not too long ago. Right over there."

The man pointed to a neat stack of basalt with barely enough room for one person.

"Alright, I'll check."

The demon looked in the 'house' and saw the dog.

"That was easy, thanks! I bet I'll get some good dick tonight!"

"You aren't going to fuck the dog, are you?"

The demon stared back at the man.

"No... What the fuck?"

"Hey, if Charlie's here and you help run the place, who knows what kind of shit you guys are into."

"Believe me, we wish we could leave just as much as everyone else. It's God's fault that atheists, pedophiles, and genocidal maniacs must coexist here."

"So Satan doesn't run the place?"

"No, not really. That's all God's doing. It's just that so many people think he does that he's become quite the divisive celebrity, though. All he does is interfere with earth to try to get a few good people to come down here. He's really made this place more tolerable, if only marginally so."

"Wow, so Satan's not the bad guy?"

"Well, he technically is. He was sent here as punishment when he thought he could rule the universe better than God. If a place like this didn't exist under Satan's rule, I'd be inclined to believe that he's right... but he directly defied God, so he's the bad guy, right? Anyways, who are you?"

"I'm just a stoner. I'm here for getting a bit too dank."

"Really? How big of a stoner do you have to be to go to hell for it?”

“Once I smoked six fat blunts in my room with my doors and windows closed. Then I ran an air filter for half an hour-“

“Uhh…”

“-then I collected the lint from the air filter, rolled it up and smoked it.”

“So you smoked the SAME WEED TWICE?”

“Uhh… yeah, basically.”

“Holy shit you’re a genius.”

“Sometimes I even manage to frighten mysel-”

“Sorry to cut you off but I have to get this dog back to Satan. He’s interested in why it’s here.”

“Ah, alright.”

“I’ll definitely come back here, though. Maybe we could even smoke weed and fuck.”

“Shit, that sounds like heaven.”

“Haha, I wish…”