The result of an idle daydream, where I thought about Hell: if it was real, what would it be like?

Hitler sat at his desk in Hell. 8:59 AM. In a minute, the doors would oepn and he would have to undergo The Question again.

Hitler sighed, looking out the glass door. A huge, seemingly endless line of people stood outside the door.

All of these people were there to ask Hitler The Question. The folks who ran Hell called it "the number seven special," because so many people wanted to ask.

And oh, how clever all of them acted, as if each and every one of them had thought up The Question on their own.

Sure, Hell is supposed to be a place of pain and torture, but there are different kinds of pain and torture. And torture works even better when there is a period of relative calm. Anyone who wanted to ask The Question had to stand and wait in line all day-- but it was a day of no pain, a day of no howling demons.

Hitler's punishment was more existential than, say, a pickpocket's. He had to answer the same question, over and over, through eternity.

Hitler heard a voice. No, not him. Not The Runt The Runt came by almost every day to ask The Question, and then to smugly make a follow=up. Of all the people that came to Hitler: the amateur historians, the schoolkids, and the just plain curious, Hitler hated The Runt the most.

There was but one role for those asking The Question: they could not reveal it once Hitler had given it. The idea of getting even more punishment kept everyone in line.

The clock went to 9AM. The door opened. The question was asked. Hitler answered it, that person got sent out, and then the next person in line would come in to ask. Hitler had to be polite and always say the same thing. The repercussions were too great otherwise.

Hours passed. The boredom was unbelievable. And then Napoleon stood in front of Hitler.

Good lord, but The Runt looked especially smug today.

"Why did you stop the Battle of Britain, and then go on to invade Russia? Napoleon asked, a big idiot grin on his face.

Hitler gave his answer, and Napoleon, grinning evilly, asked his follow up: "Why did you think you could do it, when I couldn't?"

Hitler gave his answer, and Napoleon walked out, saying "I'll be back!" Hitler rolled his eyes.

And what was the answer? The way you're living, you'll be able to ask soon enough. I'd tell you, but I don't want to get on The Devil's bad side.

The horn blared: 9PM. There was still a line waiting, with new people getting in line. There would be a long day again tomorrow.

Every day, Hitler longed for the sweet release of the fire, and the brimstone, and the pitchforks. But it was never to be. Extraordinary evil merits extraordinary punishment.