Visions of Hell - Jeremy

Jeremy Cutterbach hated everyone.  Before you get the wrong idea, it wasn't that Jeremy was a racist, a misogynist, a bigot or an elitist, he just hated everyone.  He didn't hate blacks, or Norwegians or Asians or Jews anymore than any other group, except possibly Dutchmen (these he particularly disliked, but that is a different story.)  Jeremy disliked everyone, equally.

Always in a foul mood and constantly griping about anyone who happened to be both conscious and nearby, Jeremy was extremely unpleasant to be around, and everyone knew it, even Jeremy.  Everyone, that is, except Roald Beanblossom.  Roald was possibly the most pleasant person in Toutsville, and everyone knew it.  Everyone except Roald and Jeremy.  Jeremy hated Roald for simply existing and Roald saw himself as slightly self-centered.  But be all that as it may, the people of Toutsville knew and understood both Roald and Jeremy, and feared the outcome if the two should cross paths.

Inevitably, that which was most feared finally did come to pass. Roald was in the local pharmacy picking up Mrs. Cummerlies high blood pressure medicine for her when Jeremy entered the store.  "Hey dinkboy," Jeremy called out to Roald, whose butt are you kissing now?" Jeremy questioned in his typical delicate manner.  Roald could be seen taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, ever so briefly. But before he could answer, Jeremy smacked him on the back of the head.  "Hey, I'm talking to you, sphincter!" Jeremy literally spat and he spoke, his spittle landing on Roald.  At this point, Mr. Kuttlin, the pharmacist spoke up.  "Jeremy, you are not wanted in here.  Leave now."  Jeremy then sucker punched Roald in the kidney, causing him to cry out. "Get out NOW!" the pharmacist bellowed.  "Up yours, old man, Jeremy retorted, jabbing his middle finger in the air at the man.  Jeremy spun on his heel and strolled out the door, slapping the ice cream cone out of a little girls' hand as he passed by.  A small smile passed over his lips.

Jeremy, in another move of rebellion, stepped out into the street, to jay walk, and was immediately run over by a passing tour bus full of Asian tourists.

Visions of Hell - Arthur

It was an absolutely gorgeous day and the sunlight peeking through the blinds in Arthur's bedroom was evidence to prove it.  But Arthur didn't see it, or couldn't see it, would be a more accurate description.  The last six years of Arthur's life existed of daylight sleep and late night work.  Before you become sympathetic to Arthur's situation, his life schedule was completely and freely chosen.  Arthur had earned a PhD in software engineering and had turned down teaching positions at the top universities and leadership positions at the top companies.  Instead, he'd had chosen a solitary life of website creation from home, working late at night and sleeping during the day.  Money was tight and most months consisted of barely making ends meet.  But it was what he wanted.  One couldn't really say that Arthur was happy in his situation, for most of the time he was grumpy and surly.

The ringing of the phone jolted Arthur from his sleep.  It was two in the afternoon and Arthur sullenly wondered who would be calling him.  A bubbly voice forced a literal gag from Arthur's throat. "Hello Mr. Anovhni," came the happy female from from the phone, "this is Brittney.  I just wanted to check on how our website is going."  Arthur paused to try to collect his thoughts from his just wakened mind.  "Uh," the voice continued, "this is Brittney from the Lewis and Clark High School cheer squad.  I'm wondering about our website."  Arthur cleared his throat and muttered, "I'm a little busy right now.  I'll email you with some details."  And he hung up.

Irritated with the sleep interruption and unable to go back to sleep, Arthur stood and peered through the front door peep hole.  Seeing nothing, he cracked open the door and made a direct line for the mailbox.  He had retrieved its contents and was heading back to the safety of his home when the shrill but bubbly voice of Mrs. Johnson cut through the air. "Hello Arthur," she called, "how are you today."  Alarmed at how quickly the old lady moved Arthur was unable to reach his front step before he was intercepted.  "I don't see you very often, young man," the elderly woman chided with a smile.  "You really should stop in a say hello once in a while."  Arthur squirmed in his shoes as he grasped for some sort of response.  But none came to mind.  He weakly smiled and muttered something about food in the oven and scooted toward his front door.  He grunted a goodbye as he quickly shut the door, avoiding eye contact. With relief and a stomachache combined, he moved toward the couch to examine his mail.

Arthur found a local, large grocery store that would deliver his groceries for a nominal fee.  Arthur accepted a long-term, multi-phase website project that would keep him occupied and well paid for a three year period.  Arthur found a smaller home, up in the mountains with hi speed Wi-Fi.  Arthur was finally and ultimately alone.

It was the Internet company who initiated the contact.  After three months without receiving payment (Arthur's back account had overdrawn), the police went to Arthur's home to investigate.  He apparently had been dead for nearly six months and the smell was overwhelming.  They found the body slumped over his keyboard.