Laugh You Go To Hell Novels & Stories

I'm not going anywhere. "It's time to give them hell!"

enjoined "Ali, for everything, to the one who compelled you to lose yourself to turn into this free, untamed beast...." She uttered those words until she found herself under his iron fist, his palm around her neck stifling her breath, his eyes empty. Two fires, his breath on fire, his tone of voice coming from the depths of Hell: "How do you know what I went through? And what do you know about me? And what do you know about my monsters, my spectra, and my hell? You don't know anything, and this word I'm sorry and comfort yourself because I don't need it from you understand?

Hell No! With lips trembling, I closed my eyes then took him whole… “Ahhh! What the fuck–urgggh!”

The conversation resumed after I took my seat. Picking up my phone, I made a quick visit to the bathroom. Once I locked the door, I hit the play button and listened intently to the crisp recording. In the recording, Jean eagerly cursed at me right after I closed the door. She spat, "How dare that infertile pig show up at our place? "Jack, get a divorce right now and marry Rhea. Just look at Shannon! She's hopeless. If she can't give you a child, she shouldn't call herself your wife! Since Rhea is pregnant now, you should divorce Shannon and marry Rhea instead."

Carl says glaring at me, I cannot help but laugh at his face which comes out this time earning side eyes from both my boss and Heath. “Oh... sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, he just looks like a disfigured cow when he speaks.” I let out my terrible joke, which Gian glared at me disappointed. “Miss Lennon?” Heath glares at me, “do not speak of my assistant like that. “Oh... sorry, I didn’t mean to mock Mr. Coon, I apologize.” I say, watching Carl happy because Heath defends him, maybe it is Heath he is in love with, hm… this is a new discovery.

“Can’t make it as a dancer, probably won’t get a job in whatever fucking career path you chose as a plan B. You’ll go back to living on your mommy’s couch and working twelve-hour shifts at a gas station until you rot of old age.” “No.” I’m shaking. Trembling with anger. How dare he talk to me like that? “No, I’m going to succeed. And your demons are going to drag you back to Hell where you belong.” He smiles. “If I belong in Hell, so do you.” He takes his drink and sips it, then extends his arm. I watch his hand, watch the glass. Watch it happen in slow motion, but I can’t fucking do anything as he tips it over my head.

“Take your goddamn monopoly money and go fuck yourself.” He stumbled down the corkscrew streets at night, screaming over and over a limerick Michael had composed in saner days, much to the hatred of the locals he awoke. “There once was a fellow named Glantz Who, on entering a toilet in France, Was in such a heat, To paper the seat, That he shit right into his pants.”

"Haha, I never expected the media to help us catch the mole! Damn it! I treated you like a brother, but you're actually a cop! What are you looking at? Dig out his eyes!" At his command, the henchmen grinned and walked toward me. I lost my eyes amid a soundless scream. Once, I had won the city shooting competition with them. The torture that lasted for more than ten hours made me so miserable and exhausted. For me, death might be the best way to escape right now. When the fatal blow came, I was actually relieved. I could finally stop suffering. My heart gradually stopped beating, and my breath gradually disappeared. As death claimed me, my soul began to drift slowly into the air. Looking at

He felt young and free. "I'm on the highhhhhh way to hell! I'm on the highhhhhh way to hell!"

Laura stared at me for a while and burst into a laugh. “Jesus wept”, she sneered “I can't believe you actually want to compete with me Emily? you should watch Your back more often”. I kept mute with the shock of how Laura could be so manipulative. My teeth chattered, whether from the cold or her sheer audacity, I couldn't tell I just stood there, dripping, a pathetic figure against the opulent entryway. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" Laura’s laughter died down, replaced by a cutting edge in her voice.