Clyde: Alvin? That you? Alvin: Clyde? What're you doin' in that tin can? Clyude: Look who's talkin'... Alvin: Sorry I was so wrong 'bout Hell... Clyde: Well, notice we're not hurtin'...chaplin's wrong, too...Alvin: How many of us are...here? Clyde: Ten o'us...all from the 'slow' table--eeyahh!! Alvin: Clyde, I ain't doin' this... Catastrophe: Good morning! Catastrophe here---and do I have a proposition for you!

Alvin: You a devil? Catastrophe: 'I am a man, and therefore have all devils in my heart.' Chesterton. Alvin: Huh? Catastrophe: Wait...devils? You think-- you're in hell? Great! You think---you're in Hell? If so--would you like to escape Hell? Alvin: Keep talking--Catastrophe: Your bodies are made self-repairing...even here. Your boots will allow you to levitate--to float in mid-air. Alvin: Y'said something 'bout revenge--y'mean 'gainst those who laughed at us?


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