So, I was thinking about the most random thing earlier today. The idea of Hell and what I would consider to be completely miserable consumed a few minutes of my afternoon. You know, classic work thoughts. Turtlenecks quickly came to mind.
When I was younger, I was forced to wear them and I despised them. Still do—but I just don’t wear them! The last time I did try to wear one, I had to go home and change because I couldn’t stop tugging at the collar of that ridiculous, maroon mf’er. Into the trash it went.
Generally, I am not what one would consider to be claustrophobic; I mostly prefer safe, enclosed environments. The idea of endless space and/or falling into the sky has always been frightening to me. Keep me grounded, please!
Anyway, I came to the conclusion that, if the damned are forced to wear uniforms in Hell, a turtleneck must be a component of the agonizing outfit. My train of thought took me back to a story one of my besties told me years ago…
One day, she decided to wear a string of pearls she had inherited from some family member. She was going out that night and the look just seemed right. The feeling did not last long—she found herself at a social gathering feeling choked by her glistening heirloom. What ensued was a certain sort of struggle.
She tried and tried to properly remove the necklace, but could not seem to subdue the bastard. After giving it her best shot, she finally seized hold of the sinister strangler and ripped it right off. Pearls broke loose and fell to the ground.
From the way she described the experience, I am confident she does not regret breaking the necklace and does not miss it at all. I can empathize—because of the turtlenecks. One person’s accessories and garments can truly be another person’s worst nightmare.
†As I am typing, I can almost feel the devil’s hands around my neck.