Jim Jones and Hitler In Hell

“People’s minds are weak, they need someone to do their thinking for them.” Adolph Hitler tells his new buddy in the fireside lounge of Hell.

“Tell me about it. You let people think for themselves all you get is a bunch of whacked ideas with no concentrated effort on any one thing. Their minds are all over the place.” Jim Jones agrees, sipping from a glass of steaming liquid, his eyeballs rolling languorously in their sockets thanks to the endless meth amphetamine provided by Satan for his favorite additions to the afterlife. In fact, on the table in front of the two notorious madmen is a pile of powder it would take weeks for living humans to consume, but for them it’s just enough to get through a conversation.

Hitler leans for ward and snorts a pile that would put six people in cardiac arrest, clears his nose then hands Jim the straw.

“Thanks.” Jim says and fills his sinuses with battery acid, nail polish remover and so on. “Man I love this stuff!”

“You and me both. It’s what made me so effective as a leader.”

“Really? Me too! All I had to do was stay on a constant regimen of speed and anal sex and it was all I needed to take my special brand of religion to the top, although I do admit that in comparison to you my numbers were low…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Your heart was in the right place.”

“You know what it’s like to feed people poison and watch them die before your eyes…oh, yeah, right, you do. I really like you Hitler!”

“I like you too Jim. You had a vision, and that’s what matters the most. High body counts are awesome, but it’s the vision that lives on long after the corpses are buried.”

“I’ll snort to that!”

And the two men stick their faces in the powder Scarface style, inhaling for all they are worth.

“Whoa! My heart is beating really fast!” Jim exclaims, standing up and clutching his chest.

“Holy shit! Are you alright?” Hitler asks, standing as well and putting an arm around the other’s shoulders.

“Ah, got ya!” Jim says, laughing. “I used to pull that one on some of the men in my congregation after I sodomized them, just to see if they would take pity on me.”

“Did they?”

“Mostly no, but there were the occasional few that enjoyed it.”

“Sodomy isn’t so bad. I’m really fond of enemas. There’s no shame in that.”

“Certainly not, that’s what I was trying to teach my followers but some of them had,” and here Jim puts his hands up to indicate that he is paraphrasing, “‘Morals’. Stupid fucking bastards.”

“It just goes back to never letting people think for themselves. Keep them from sleeping you keep them from thinking. I learned that from the Catholic church.”

“Hey, I did too! The best way to keep morons totally brainwashed is to never let them sleep. It’s how the military does it too. And don’t let them talk to each other, keep everyone in the dark.”

Hitler falls silent for a second, contemplating what he is about to say next, steeling his nerve with another hit of meth.

“So, um, Jim. What was it with you and the, um, uh, black folks?”

Jim pauses mid snort, leans back and casts a jaundiced eye at his companion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, um, don’t you think that the blacks are, well, um, less evolved?”

There is a tense moment between the two as Jim Jones stares at Hitler for what seems-ha ha-like an eternity before he finally smiles.

“Well, duh, no shit! Why do you think I brainwashed and killed them?”

And the two of them share a laugh.

Suddenly a voice interjects, cutting their laughter short.

“I though you killed them for the same reason that I did,” Jeffery Dahmer says, butting into the conversation. “Because they were easier to fool then white people.”

Hitler appraises the new comer, noticing something.

“You got something on your face Jeff, no, other side, yeah there it is, you got it.”

Jeffery wipes the remains of a fetus off of his left cheek and asked if he can sit down.

“Get your own fucking drugs faggot!” Jim bellows and the other looks at him, shocked.

“You’re calling me a faggot? You ass fucked, like, half the guys in your congregation!” Jeffery retorts.

“Yeah, but that was for Jesus, it’s entirely different.”

“A cock in the ass for Jesus?” Jeffery says, a smile curling his lips and Hitler breaks out laughing.

“I like this guy! You take a seat buddy! Move over Jim.”

“Oh, alright.” Jim says grudgingly, scooting over.

“Mind if I take a blast?” Jeffery asks and Jim hands him the straw.

“Knock yourself out.”

Dahmer does a nosedive into the pile.

“Since when did you ass wipes start partying with virgins?” A gruff voice says and the three of them look up.

“Hey Sadam, what’s up?” Hitler says jovially, waving him to join them. “Whose this virgin you speak of?”

“This little fairy,” Sadam says, pointing at Dahmer. “He only killed, like, thirty or forty people, and he was too humane about it, drugging them first.”

“Hey, what can I say, I have a weakness for the frailty of the human spirit.” Dahmer says, defending himself.

“Pussy.” Sadam mutters, shoving his long pinky nail into the mountain of crystal and snorting deeply. “Ahhhh! How do you spell relief?”

“Say, while you’re here maybe you can help us settle something.” Adolph says and the other dictator looks at him with arched eyebrows.

“What can I do ya for?” He asks, wiping powder from his mustache.

“Well, Jim here thinks that a thousand demons can dance on the head of a pin and I say it’s two thousand. What do you think?”

“Are you fuck wads trying to get all metaphysical on me? Is that what you’re trying to do? Cause if you are you can roll my cock in a tortilla and eat me!”

“Really?” Jeffery asks, perking up.

“Figure of speech turd burglar.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Hitler laughs.

“Yeah, we’re just yankin’ ya Sadam. I couldn’t give two shits about that kinda crap. I’m just makin’ conversation.”

“Oh, I see.” And he laughs a deep belly laugh, spittle spraying the group.

“Say it don’t spray it donkey cock!” Jeffery says and this breaks them up even more. Everyone clutches their stomachs, tears rolling down their faces.

Suddenly an alarm goes off and the men raise their heads attentively, listening.

“You know what that is?” Adolph says and the others nod.

“Fresh meat!” They all cry in unison.

A curtain of flames parts and into the room enters a new arrival, his eyes looking confused, his bald head covered with stubble, his scarred forehead giving away his identity immediately.

“Where the fuck am I?” He asks in a quiet voice, looking about him at his new friends.

“Where you belong monkey nuts,” Sadam says, cutting him a line.

A voice booms over the loudspeakers.

“Say hello to Hell’s newest addition, Mr. Charles Manson!” Satan’s voice thunders.

“Hello Charles.” The others say at once as the erstwhile cult leader/visionary blinks his eyes in the bright light of the flames, licks his lips and wonders who the queer looking guy in the sunglasses is….

“What are you looking at?” Jim Jones asks in an irritated voice, not liking the way the new guy is looking at him.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” Charles asks, helping himself to a thick line. “I recognize Mr. Drug ‘em and Fuck ‘em over there, and the mustaches give the other two away, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention Mr. ‘I Have Everyone Else Do My Killing For Me’. You’re looking at the man responsible for 909 deaths in Guyana, South America.”

“Jim Jones?” Charles says, awestruck.

“None other.” Jim replies, tipping an imaginary hat.

“Your, like, my hero!”

Jim blushes.

“Why don’t you two get a room.” Sadam says, cutting himself another line.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Charles allows and Jim rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Can I join in?” Jeffery asks and the two glare at him.

“Don’t we need to be dead for you to get turned on…?” Charles starts before realizing something. “Oh…well, okay, but no funny stuff.”

“Oh boy!” Jeffery hoots, getting to his feet. “I’m so glad that fucker killed me in prison! To think I would have had to wait my natural born life until I could be here partying with you guys! Fuckin’ Wisconsin liberals!”

“What is this ‘Wisconsin’?” Sadam asks.

“Fuckin’ liberal state,” Dahmer supplies. “No death penalty.”

“Unheard of!” Sadam roars. “What do they do with the rapists and thieves?”

“Life in prison.”

“They are allowed to live?” Sadam says incredulously, his dictator mentality not even able to process the idea.

“In my country we killed you if you said anything bad about the government, wore clothing I didn’t like, sneezed too many times in a row on a Sunday, looked at another man’s wife with lust, didn’t look at another man’s wife with lust…”

“I know, I know, those fuckers are in the stone ages.” Jeffery says impatiently. “So now, this three-way we were talking about?”

“All this talk of life has kind of killed the mood for me.” Jim Jones says, half-heartedly snorting more meth.

“Yeah, me too.” Charles agrees. “What are ya tryin’ to do, bum us out?”

“Sorry. I could tell you in detail about how I killed that Laotian boy, the one the cops caught me with? The one that was naked and bleeding from his ass and they let me go?”

“Yeah,” Jim purrs. “That would probably put me back in the mood.

“I’m all ears.” Charles agrees, helping himself to more meth as Hell’s peons stoke the fires, the demon’s whips kissing their singed, welted backs as their screams create a wonderful cacophony beneath the soft chatter of the idle maniacs…