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 | Frankly, the very idea of the existance of the soul is suspect. This entire place is riddled with logical inconsistencies. | |
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| Where the Hell did I put that form? The one for Hell, I mean. | |
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| In fact, it seems to me more likely that this is a continuation of my hallucinations back on the lunar surface than an actual afterlife. | |
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| *Arrg!* You know what? f#*k it. I don't get paid enough for this, or at all. I'm sending you *back*. Let some other angelic schlub deal with you when your time comes around again. | |
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| Wheels of parsnip are eating my face! | |
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| This predicament feels oddly familiar. | |
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