All living beings in hell

Chapter 27 - Wagoda

The lotus lantern at the entrance was lit up, and the office welcomed No.18 guests.

A panting voice came from behind the door: "I have long admired your name, Mr. Writer."

The visitor's head was covered with flesh-pink tumors that had squeezed his eyes to the point where he could barely see.It was green from the neck down, as smooth as a lizard's skin.When it got closer, I saw that there was still a layer of transparent mucus hanging on its skin.

Its lower limbs are well developed, its knees are anti-joint structures like Tyrannosaurus rex, and it also has a long, lizard-like tail behind it.

There was a smell of rotten swamp on the body of the guest, and the office was instantly filled with the atmosphere of the depths of the tropical rainforest.

"Hello, how should I address you?" I spread my pen and ink and sat behind the wooden table.

"Wagoda, Wagoda, Wagoda."

The lizard-like guest repeated his name three times.

I wrote down the three characters "Wagoda" on the paper: "Excuse me, why did you come to see me today?"

"Ha! Serious business!" Wagoda smiled, with a sulfurous smell coming out of his mouth, "I know that you have been troubled a lot before writing, my lord, don't worry, my lord, I won't make trouble."

"Well, please tell me, I will write down all the past events and life you tell." I replied.

"There is no wine, I really don't know where to start." Wagoda sat on a three-legged wooden chair (I still haven't found the missing chair leg).He crossed his legs in a strange posture, with a chic look, "According to other ghosts, you have a lot of good wine hidden here, which has confused the immortals."

I smiled: "There is wine, but it may not be very good. The wine in hell is not as refreshing as the world, and it is not as sweet as the heaven, but it is a bit too spicy. But if you want, you can drink two glasses. of."

"I don't have high requirements. Wine is just wine. It's always warm in your stomach."

I took out a jar of cloud wine, took out two earthenware bowls, and poured wine for Wagoda and myself respectively.

"I know the rules, you can't cross the border of the wooden table, right?" Wagoda knocked the pottery bowl on the table, "Then don't touch the bowl, I'll do it first."

I watched Wagoda gulp down the strong wine, and took a sip myself. The familiar burning sensation rushed from the esophagus to the stomach, but it was reassuring.

After two bowls of wine, Wagoda breathed a sigh of relief, and another sulfurous smell gushed out. This time, it was mixed with the unique pungentness of Yunjiu. If sparks were ignited, I was worried that the smell would cause a lot of trouble. explosion.

"To tell you the truth, my lord, I think this hell is pretty good. There is no birth, old age, sickness, and death, and no pain of parting. Everyone is going around here, and there is no need to rush to do anything. Just sit on the cliff every day and watch Sea of ​​blood, it’s good too.” The flesh-pink tumor on Wagoda’s face gradually turned red because of the alcohol.

"It's really good to hear you say that."

"That's why I'm not in a hurry to leave. Seeing those lonely ghosts crying and making trouble every day, I really don't know what they're doing. Isn't this place more relaxing than the world?"

"Well, to hear you say that, it's leisure."

"Sir, should you consider moving to hell? Wouldn't it be wonderful to drink wine and look at the sea every day?"

"Not for the moment."

"What's so good in the world, look at Suicide Cliff," Wagoda walked to the window and opened the black curtains.The large floor-to-ceiling windows are facing the sea of ​​blood, and the southwest of the sea of ​​blood is Suicide Cliff, "Look, how many of you mortals are eager to escape from that terrible place every day, desperately wanting to go to hell .”

On the suicide cliff, the soul who just ended his life and fell into hell stands there in a daze.They stared at the sea of ​​blood in front of them, not knowing where they were going.These souls still retain the dead appearance and pain of their previous life.

——Some limbs were broken, and their faces were bloody; some had a deep strangle mark on their necks, and their faces were black and blue;

A few bull-headed, horse-faced and other hell officials are counting the number of people who fell into hell today on the suicide cliff... This scene, as part of the daily routine of hell, is proceeding in an orderly manner.

"That's other people's business, and it's their own choice. Sit down and talk about your business."

Wagoda stood by the window and looked back at me, grinning: "My business? What do you want to know?"

"Who are you and what are you doing in this hell?"

"I was originally a messenger between hell and the world. I was responsible for delivering information. It was a bit like writing a book, but our method was based on dreams. Later, I got tired of doing it, resigned, and wandered around in hell."

"Why are you tired of doing it?"

"Look at my appearance, are you afraid?"

I stared at Wagoda's bruised face, and thinking of the previous guests, I felt that the big lizard in front of me was not so scary: "It's okay, I've seen a lot."

Wagoda put his hands behind his head, leaned on the wooden chair, and stretched his legs aside: "Not all mortals think so, do you know what you humans call me? Nightmare! My appearance is the existence of nightmares I’ve heard all kinds of screams, cursing, and prayers, and I’m almost deaf. You say I’m wronged, I’m just a messenger, what’s the matter?”

"What kind of letter do you usually send?"

"Some ghosts are already ghosts, but they still can't let go of the human world. You should know that, right?"

"Ok, I know."

"People can write letters when they are alive, and they can also write after death. After writing, they need to have the post of messenger to help bring the letter back to the world accurately and to the recipient marked on the letter. This is me My job. I send the living people the thoughts of the dead. Of course, sometimes it is not necessarily the thoughts. I have also sent threatening letters and debt collection letters. The recipient looked at my face and was When I read such a letter in my dream, I was so scared out of my wits." Wagoda thought it was funny when he said this, and he put his hands on his stomach and giggled, "But tell me, Mr. Writer, I'm just an errand runner. , what does it matter to me?"

"Why did you choose this job in the first place?"

"There's nothing to do in hell."

"Then what were you doing before you became a messenger?"

"It's also been wandering around for a long time."

"Wagoda, how did you come to hell?" I asked.

Wagoda suddenly put away his smile: "That was a long, long time ago."

"If you don't want to say it, you don't have to say it."

Wagoda pointed to the empty pottery bowl, I understood and poured wine for him again.Wagoda swallowed hard, and made a hissing sound.

"I used to be a human being." Wagoda said, "In your current terms, I can be regarded as a scientist."

"When you were a human, what did you do?"

"I like, dissection, animals, people, insects... I like to study the structure of all living things. Sew the body parts of different creatures together to see if they can survive. Mice sewed rabbit ears; cat headdresses On the back of a rooster; on the back of a human corpse, sew all kinds of beetles to see how long they can live... After they die, these things will be made into specimens and sold in circuses. It's a good business."

"And then, what happened?"

"Just using the body of a dead person to transform is really boring. I went to the brothel to find those addicts, and used the heroin they depended on to satisfy their physical needs. Heroin is not cheap. I satisfied them, and they also have to satisfy me."

"What happened to those people?"

"Few survived. Think about it, a person has four arms and four legs, how heavy it is, and it's completely unbalanced." When Wagoda said this, there was a hint of madness in his cold eyes.It seems that what is being discussed is not a living person, but a plaster sculpture.

"Well, how did you die then?"

"I experimented on myself, not to simply suture organs, but to make a complete change. I cultivated several viruses, each of which can theoretically enhance different functions of the human body, change certain I arranged these viruses according to the date and plan, and injected them into my body one by one..." Wagoda drank another half bowl of wine.

"and then?"

"Take it off, I'm dead, so I came here."

"Do you regret anything you did when you were alive?"

"What regrets? I have played everything that should be played, and the one who died is satisfied."

"So what are you going to do next?"

"Next?"

"Well, what are you going to do in hell after you leave my office? Or what are you going to do somewhere else?"

"Hey, I didn't think about it. Didn't I just quit my job, thinking about playing around in hell first. I've been in hell for so long, and I haven't visited it properly. I haven't even visited hell below the third floor ! It is said that there is a huge melting pot that can melt souls together and recombine them, I want to see that!"

"That's fine too, have fun in hell."

Wagoda drank enough cloud wine, and the tumor on his face was already red and purple.He stood up unsteadily, and the three-legged chair behind him fell to the ground: "My lord, thank you, I'm really happy today!"

"You're welcome."

"You are really interesting as a mortal. Are you not afraid when I say these things? Are you not afraid of me?"

"Everyone has their own way of life, as long as you are satisfied and comfortable."

Wagoda looked at me, narrowed his eyes, and grinned: "Interesting human being."

"It's almost time. Have another bowl before you leave?"

"Don't drink, I'm going to see the sea, enjoy the wind, and think about the future." Wagoda said.

"Well, then I won't give it away." I nodded slightly to him.

"Goodbye, Master Writer." Wagoda dragged his long tail and swayed towards the door.

"Goodbye." I said.

(End of this chapter)