Some people say that death is a darkness creeping over you, yet others say that it is a white light coming to welcome you. Others say that you see a flood of your memories, while still others say that it is a beautiful array of colors.
So from all this, I drew a conclusion—don't ask me how: when you're dying, if you see black, then you go to Hell, and if you see white, then you're going to Heaven!
And of course, I had to test my hypothesis. So, I decided to stick a knife into myself. And as I did so, I felt this darkness. My last words were: "Oh crap, I'm going to Hell!"
After who knows how long, I woke up in this place. Yes, a place. It was greenish and pretty-ish and it was kinda sad. I realized that I must be in like the second or so layer of Hell, according to Dante. But it was cool. Like you know how it's human nature to be the things that you shouldn't be (even if you're dead)? Yeah...so I was happy. And I was whooping and running around all over the place and laughing and everything.
So then guess what? The devil came to visit me, but to this day, I have no idea how he got out of his cozy little room at the bottom. You know what he said? He said "Screw you. You're too happy. I don't like you 'cause you're ruining my hell. I'm 'damning' you to Heaven."
And I went to Heaven. It was pretty nice—you got what you wanted whenever you wanted it, and everyone was happy because their lives were so easy. I, on the other hand, wasn't happy after a while. It was boring. What's life without some challenges? I walked around in Heaven on the lovely soft clouds while sulking every day until one day, God summoned me to his presence.
Apparently, I was too sad a person and I was ruining the "place He worked so hard to make happy" with my constant laments, so He decided to send me back to Hell.
At the gates of Hell, I was met by two of those cute little devils with red horns. They were kind of annoying, actually, with their constant squeaking and everything, but Oh! The proshness! And then they wouldn't let me into Hell since I totally ruin their seriousness and misery-causing or something like that. Oh, that made me feel so great. I'm rejected by Heaven since I'm too sad and I'm rejected by Hell since I'm too happy.
I guess I had nowhere to go (I don't believe in Purgatory), so Satan sent me back to be alive again. Unfortunately, I was cremated, which means that my body was just a pile of crushed bones in a permanently sealed jar in a permanently sealed locker-ish box. Great, huh? Not really...anyhow, so here I am doomed to live my so-called "life" in misery within this scary box, telling anyone who would listen to my story on death. Maybe I shouldn't have ever conducted that experiment. Oh well. And so ends my story of my trip to hell and heaven and back to life. Meh.