Paddling across Lake Bullshit, knocking heads of sinners with his paddle, was an insane old man in a canoe. He stood on the tip and rocked the boat with almost no concern for falling into the lake. He looked insane even from where we stood. Faulkner began laughing as the kayaker got closer and started smacking academic literary professors who were talking about his books. Still. When I asked Faulkner who he was, he just shooked his head. "No one knows. He's apparently supposed to be in Limbo but since he got there for being the best outdoorsman ever, they gave him the job of punishing the sinners who walk around the shoreline." I wondered what kind of stuff someone has to do in order to be exempt from Hell for Physical achievement. I asked Faulkner for his flask and deduced the situation to my best. "So he's like some kayaker who gave up friends or responsibility to ride the ultimate rapid? And then he did it again and again?" Faulkner nodded and said, "Yeah, basically. Virgil said that a few centuries ago it used to be some other guy but that he got sick of the shit smell and moved down to one of the lower levels. All the Limbo people get put to work doing weird stuff in the afterlife. Too fucking crazy for Hell, too mean for Heaven." We both waited for the kayaker to arrive on the shoreline.
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