A Joke for Writers

Hemingway dies and goes up to the Golden Gate.

"Listen, Ernie," St. Peter says to him, "We're um, we're having some problems with you. We don't know what to do with you.

"You've contributed great works of art to humanity, but in your personal life, you've been kind of a dick. So we've given up and we've decided we're going to let you choose between heaven and hell."

"Wow," says Hemingway. "That's a tough one!"

"Don't worry," St. Peter says, "We'll give you a tour so you can make an informed decision."

So they go down to hell. It's a million degrees, and rows upon rows of people are chained to their typewriters, slaving away night and day. Their eyes are glazed over and they're exhausted, but every time they stop writing, these little devils stab them with pitchforks and say, "Get back to work!"

"Ooh, I don't like the looks of this," Hemingway says. "Not at all."

And St. Peter says, "Okay, let's go check out heaven."

So they go up to heaven. It's a million degrees, and rows upon rows of people are chained to their typewriters, slaving away night and day. Their eyes are glazed over and they're exhausted, but every time they stop writing, these little devils stab them with pitchforks and say, "Get back to work!"

"But this is horrible!" Hemingway says. "It's exactly like hell!"

"Well, yeah, basically," says St. Peter. "But up here you get published."