Afterlife

>The man wakes up, heat engulfing his naked body in steady, raging waves. Around him scorched earth, pits of lava, high flames. A stone slab filled with instruments of torture. “Am I… in Hell?”, he whispers to himself incredulously.

>…right, the car accident. He’s dead now. And in Hell, apparently.

>He then sees a shadow approaching him, and he cowers in fear, waiting for the inevitable, endless punishment to start…

The fluffy pony in front of him is red, donning a pair of plastic horns in his head fluff and a black cape, and carrying a small pitchfork in his mouth with visible effort. “Fwuffy deviw hewe!”, it exclaims, after dropping the weapon. “Now fwuffy deviw pway wiff hooman fo’ eva an’ eva an’…”.

>The man punts the fluffy right in a magma pit.

>Funny. The fluffy devil is not fire proof. Lava proof. Whatever.

>“Waaaaaah! Why wed wawa buwny fwuffy? Too wawm! Gaaargbl…”.

>A second fluffy, this time black, immediately materializes before the man. “Fwuffy deviw now…”.

>The man pierces it with the pitchfork.

>Then crushes the third one with a mallet.

Then strangles the fourth one.

>Then roasts the fifth one alive on a flame.

>He starts laughing maniacally. This is not Hell at all!

>From high above, God stares at him, sighing and shaking His head.

>It’s way too easy to create a personal Heaven for fluffy abusers.