Scene: Flat Earth Society Annual Meeting
Location: A dimly lit community hall with folding chairs and a suspiciously warped wooden podium. Banners hang on the walls reading “Flat Earth: The Truth They Don’t Want You to Know” and “Gravity Is a Hoax!”.
Terry Flatman, the society's self-appointed president, steps up to the podium, clearing his throat nervously.
Terry:
“Flat brothers and sisters! Today, we venture into uncharted territory. Beyond the flat Earth lies the question: Are Heaven and Hell flat, too?”
The room hums with tension. A wiry man with a magnifying glass, Reginald “Sky Investigator” Peabody, leaps to his feet.
Reginald:
“Of course Heaven is flat! How else could angels stand without sliding off? I’ve spent years examining 17th-century paintings—clouds are flat platforms, people!”
Muriel “The Hollow Hope” Jenkins, a retired geologist turned Hollow Earth Society infiltrator, interrupts with a derisive laugh.
Muriel:
“Nonsense, Reginald! Everyone knows Heaven is a dome—just like the firmament! Why else would it rain? That’s water trickling down from the top!”
Reginald scoffs. “Preposterous! Angels don’t need domes—they’ve got wings!”
From the back, Nigel “Hotspot” Henderson, an amateur volcanologist, slams his thermos on the table.
Nigel:
“You’re all focusing on Heaven, but Hell is the real question. It’s flat, just like the Earth—it’s a giant underground plane where the lava flows in straight lines!”
An uproar follows as Neville “The Spiral Theorist” Cummings, a man perpetually covered in chalk dust, stands to counter him.
Neville:
“Wrong! Hell is a downward spiral—a vortex of despair! It’s not flat; it’s a funnel that leads sinners straight to the bottom!”
Nigel:
“Oh, here we go—typical funnel conspiracist nonsense!”
The argument intensifies. Members throw out increasingly bizarre theories:
Sandra “Lava Logic” Greene:
“Hell is a giant frying pan! It’s flat because Satan fries sinners like eggs!”
Edwin “Cloud Cartographer” Triggs:
“Heaven and Hell are both flat! Heaven’s like a glass ceiling, and Hell’s the basement. Earth’s just the floor in between!”
Muriel:
“Ridiculous! Heaven’s a dome, Hell’s a bowl, and the Earth is the soup inside! It’s a celestial crockpot!”
By now, several factions have formed, each waving poorly drawn diagrams on napkins and cardboard. A particularly eccentric group, the Banana Horizonists, begins chanting:
“Curved like a peel! Heaven’s real! Hell’s concave, Earth’s our nave!”
Terry Flatman, red-faced and sweating, bangs his gavel.
Terry:
“Order! ORDER! This is a serious discussion, not some... some fruit salad conspiracy! If we can’t agree on the shape of Heaven and Hell, how can we expect anyone to take us seriously about Earth?”
The room falls silent for a brief, sacred moment. Then, Barry “The Flat Fundamentalist” Thompson stands, his tinfoil hat slightly askew.
Barry (solemnly):
“My fellow truth-seekers... if we argue like this, the round-Earthers win. We must unite! Heaven is flat. Hell is flat. End of story. Agreed?”
Everyone stares at him. The silence is broken by Sandra yelling:
“Not until you admit Satan cooks people on a flat griddle!”
The room erupts into chaos again. Terry buries his face in his hands, muttering, “Flat Earth was simpler.”
