A long time ago, in a celestial plane far, far away, there was an Angel named ScegfOd. ScegfOd was something of a misfit. While all of the other cherubim and seraphim were perfectly content with the wonders o fHeaven, ScegfOd could (and would) find fault with anything."That sunset's too red," he'd whine, "These bon-bons aren't chocolatey enough," he'd mope, "This velvet cushion doesn't quite fit the contours of my butt," he'd moan. Finally, he decided to do something about it. First, he built an enormous Vista Enhancement Doohicky, which made everything in Heaven within a ten mile radius look even more perfect than before.

Standing on the balcony of his Vista Enhancement Doohicky, the Angel ScegfOd was happier than he had been for hundreds of years. "This is wonderful," he said, "Everything, for as far as the eye can see, looks utterly perfect!" Suddenly a chorus of harps broke into a beautiful jam session of hallelujas and hosannahs, each one infinitely more melodius and harmonious than any piece of music found in the world of the living. ScegfOd frowned. "They're slightly out of tune," he whined. "I'll have to do something about that." Weeks later, ScegfOd unveiled his Audio Improving Embophone, which had the ability to make every sound within a hundred mile radious bounce off the eardrums like a caress.

Relaxing in the study of his Audio Improving Embophone, ScegfOd marveled at what he had wrought. "Everything I see and hear is perfect," he proclaimed to no one in particular. "Surely there is no place in Heaven as heavenly as this." Outside, a jillion flowers spontaneously bloomed, releasing a heady aroma evocative of all that is right with the Universe. ScegfOd furrowed his angelic brow. "Not woody enough," he snorted. "Don't these seraphim know anything about nasal passages?" Within a fortnight, ScegfOd had constructed the Heaven Scent Atomizer, a device capable of perfecting the aromas of everything within range of its powerful purple pumps.

Strolling through the heady, nostalgic vapors produced by his Heaven Scent Atomizer, ScegfOd felt, for a fleeting millisecond, truly at one with the Cosmos. "Gosh, everything smells great!" he intoned. Just then, a cherub toddled by with a hot dog cart. "Make me one with everything," ScegfOd laughed, tossing the Angel a Penny. The cherub complied, and ScegfOd took a bite of the most perfect chili dog ever created. "This is horrible!" he screamed, spitting out the perfect morsels. "Action will have to be taken!" Twenty-seven days later, the Creamy Candy Castle, a machine that could make any food taste absolutely perfect, was completed.

High atop his Creamy Candy Castle, ScegfOd nibbled contemplatively on a screamingly perfect apple and concluded that he had, at long last, found eternal peace. "Everything I see, hear, smell, and taste is PERFECT," he beamed. "Finally, I can settle down and ENJOY Heaven!" Slowly, he lowered himself onto his throne, which was ergonomically designed by the finest chiropractors who ever lived, and covered in crushed velvet, to boot. "It's like sitting on brokenglass," he whined. "I guess my work ISN'T done yet." Within mere hours, ScegfOd was putting the finishing touches on his Fluffy Comfort Dispenser, which could magically enhance the tactile sensations of everything for miles around. As he tied off the last stitch, he was startled to find the Powers That Be standing right behind him. They were not happy.

"If there's anything we can't tolerate in Heaven, it's a whiner," they said and cast the Ungrateful Angel into Hell

Being kicked out of Heaven had done nothing for ScegfOd's attitude problem. "Hell? Don't make me laugh," he roared. "Why, this is a veritable walk in the park compared to Heaven." As he spoke, phantasms of thirty-three unspeakable tableaus wafted into view. Within seconds, a horrible crunching noise began to be heard. "You call that a phantasm?" ScegfOd mocked. "Good grief, I've seen worse things in a Pauly Shore movie! You want scary, I'LL give you scary!" A month later, ScegfOd cut the ribbon on the Ugliness Engine, an infernal machine that made everything around it really, really bad for the eyes.

As vile, trauma-inducing visions flickered from the depths of his Ugliness Engine, ScegfOd knew no satisfaction. "Oh sure," he mused, "Hell LOOKS awful, but it's still not very spooky." As he frowned, thirteen dozen banshees appeared out of nowhere, yelled, and occasionally whispered the cruelest of songs directly into ScegfOd's defenseless eardrums. "That's a perfect example," sighed ScegfOd, as the banshees flew off in disgust. "The music down here is no woerse than your average Michael Bolton concert. Maybe I can fix that..." By suppertime, ScegfOd had cobbled together the very first Crinkly Cacophony Contrivance, a colossal anti-musical instrument that could make even the subtlest of sounds hit the eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.

The screaming and moaning of the Damned, did little to brighten ScegfOd's mood as he stood in the throne room of his Crinkly Cacophony Contrivance, "They SEEM to be suffering," he thought, "but how can anyone really suffer in a Hell as pleasant as this?" As if in answer to his unvoiced question, a cadre of kilometer-tall Archdemons strode onto the scene, squashing all within their path. They sat next to ScegfOd's structures, and began to eat house-sized burritos. These were no orginary burritos, no sir... these burritos were packed with diseased, long-dead animals and other icky stuff of that ilk. When they were done with their burritos, the Archdemons let out a burst of flatulence so mighty that several nearby buildings melted into a puddle of goo. "I've had shopping mall salesgirls assault me with worse odors," scoffed ScegfOd. "If you want something stinky, check this out!" Working quickly, ScegfOd soon patched together the Flabbergasting Flatulence Ol-Factory, capable of making the sweetest rose smell like a dead skunk.

"I'm still not impressed," he said. For no reason inparticular, the chow bell suddenly rang out. Throughout Hell, Demons stopped what they were doing just long enough to cram white-hot shards of glass covered in donkey offal down the throats of the Damned. ScegfOd yawned, "I've had worse meals at (insert name of truly disgusting fast-food franchise here). I bet I could cook up something far worse." Cracking his knuckles, ScegfOd got to work, and quickly brewed up the Wellspring of Unsavoriness, a twisted cauldron that caused all foodstuffs within its influence to be totally inedible.

As ScegfOd looked out over the screaming, exploding, vomiting masses, he felt no joy. "Doesn't it get any worse?" he moaned. Suddenly, a thousand barbed chains appeared out of nowhere, and hooked themselves into ScegfOd's demonic flesh. With a sudden yank, they pulled 95.3% of the skin off of his body, leaving his innards exposed to the sulphurous air. Before he could fully react, a million little crimson lightning bolts began to strike at each and every exposed nerve ending, sending him into paroxyms of pain. "Not bad," he winced, "but have you ever tried to sleep on a motel hide-a-bed?" So, you guessed it, ScegfOd went about building ANOTHER machine. When he was finished building the Tactile Degradation Gizmo, the Powers That Be showed up at his doorstep. They were happy, but in a nasty kinda of way.

"You are the single biggest schmuck in all of Creation," they glowered. "You have found no joy in Heaven, and have known no pain in Hell. We are left with no choice but to reincarnate you --"

"Great!" said ScegfOd.

"-- as a rock. As the universe's only sentient rock, you will be unable to see, hear, smell, taste, or feel. You will be a thing of pure thought, unable to experience anything but your own, ever-increasing dementia."

"But --" gulped ScegfOd, frantically.

"Have a nice day," said the Powers That Be.