Dear Dave:

Just a quick note to let you know things are right on schedule! The preparations you’ve made lately - the temper tantrum toward your wife, the rate at which you are drinking, the way you treat your friends, your near-constant breaking of laws like speeding, public nudity and sodomy… the way you wear your hair – are having their desired effect, which is to get your here more QUICKLY!

(I will have to ask though, that certain activities, like your phone calls to your Mother and the donation you made to tsunami victims STOP immediately. It is muddying up your approval process.)

You’re one lucky sinner! You’ve earning the "A level package!" A 3 story, 25-thousand square foot mansion is awaiting you, nestled on the banks of the Styx river. (you have a dock, but you still need to earn a boat – I suggest forgetting your wife’s birthday again… that should do it)

You will have a small weekend cottage by the lake of fire JUST for how you treated that bartender last night. Priceless... especially the insult about his brain size… something about shoving it in a gnat’s ass being similar to a bee-bee in a freight car? You’re quickly adding up bonus points, which can be redeemed for things like loneliness, pestilence and self loathing upon your arrival.

And that email you sent your friend, Dr. Mike. What did that say again? Oh yes.

Dear ass munch:
You lazy bastard. Will you take 10 minutes away from masturbating, eating, or berating the innocent... and WRITE IN YOUR FUCKING BLOG? I'm sick of looking at your last entry, an ill-conceived doctored up picture… probably a product of a late night absinthe-induced photo-editing software purchase you made to see if you could give that nude snapshot of yourself a bigger dick.
Signed,
Tawnya

Strictly from the pen of pure evil, my friend!

In closing, I guess I’ll see you soon. Your recent activities have not only accelerated your arrival time (you should receive an ETA from old “grimmy” soon) but I’m also happy to announce you’ll be whisked away in true VIP fashion aboard the Hell Express.

First class, mon frere.

Signed,
B. L. Z. Bubb, a.k.a. Lucy Furr
The Prince Of Darkness (P.O.D.)

PS - I'm going to have to ask you to stop occasionally helping your wife with dinner.