Canto 3.97
by Teri Ong
I entered the parking lot along the deep and savage road; in my hand were the accursed shelf brackets, one set too small and one set too large for my earthly cupboard. I lifted my eyes, and behold, over the entrance of the great discount mart…
“Through me is the way into the woeful center; through me is the way into eternal woe; through me is the way among the lost people. Leave every hope, ye who enter!”
These words of obscure color I saw written at the top of the door; whereat I: “Master door keeper, their meaning is dire to me.”
And he said to me, like a person well-advised: “Here it behoves to leave every fear; it behoves that all cowardice should here be dead. We have come to the place where I have told thee that thou shalt see the woeful people, who have lost the good of the understanding.”
And when he had put his hand on mine with a cheerful look, wherefrom I took courage, he brought me within to the secret things. Here sighs, laments, and deep wailings were resounding through the starless air; wherefore at first I wept thereat. Strange tongues, horrible utterances, words of woe, accents of anger, voices high and faint, and sounds of hands with them were making tumult which whirls always in that air forever dark.
And I, who had my head girt with horror said: “Master, what is that which I hear? And what folk is it that seems so overcome with its woe?”
And he to me: “The wretched souls of those who returned without a receipt and without a return slip maintain this miserable abode.”
And I: “Master, what is so grievous to them, that makes them lament so bitterly?”
He answered: “I will tell thee very briefly. These have not hope of getting a refund: and their miserable life is so debased, that they are envious of every other lot. Let us not speak of them, but do thou look and pass on.”
And I, who was gazing, saw a banner which read, “Customer satisfaction guaranteed,” but the look of the attendant at that woeful desk seemed disdainful, and before it came so long a train of folk, that I should never have believed death had undone so many!
And when I gave myself to looking onward, I saw people on the brink of the great customer service desk; wherefore I said: “Master, now grant to me that I may know who these are, and what rule makes them appear so ready to step forward.” And he said to me: “The things will be clear to thee, when we stay our steps in the sad line of ‘returns and exchanges.’”
Then with eyes ashamed and downcast, fearing lest my speech might be troublesome to him, as we inched forward in the line of the weary, I refrained from speaking, all the while clutching the bag of accursed shelf brackets.
And behold! Coming toward us with a hand-held scanner, white with ancient hair, crying, “Woe to you, wicked souls! Hope not ever to see your refund! I have come to give you a reality check.”
But those souls, who were weary and famished, changed color and gnashed their teeth, soon as they heard his cruel words. They blasphemed God and their parents, the human race, the place, the time of their birth. Then all of them bitterly weeping, drew together before the attendant at the service desk with her eyes of glowing coal beckoning to them.
As in autumn the leaves depart one after the other, until the bough sees all its spoils upon the earth, in likewise, the evil seed of Adam throw themselves upon the customer serv ice desk one by one, at signals, as the bird at his recall. Thus they go from their place in the queue to the “next available clerk.” And before they have received their refund questionaire, already a new throng is assembled at the back of the line.
As I draw near the time of my beckoning, I hear as the attendant with glowing eyes speaks. “You have failed to return your item unopened!” “But ma’am, I didn’t know it wouldn’t fit until I had opened it.” “I’m sorry, there is nothing to be done for you.” And I watched as the woeful man departed with bowed head and tearful countenance.
And again I saw, a woman before me was beckoned to the counter. She presented an electronic device in its original packaging. I said to myself, “Surely here is wisdom and peace!” Once again the attendant with glowing eyes spoke: “Your receipt indicates that you have had this product in your possession for 31 days.” “You speak the truth, ma’am, but it quit working last week.” “I do regret to tell you that we cannot accept a defective product after 30 days.” She departed with a groan and a wail from the depth of her soul, as she placed her item in the bin of dust and ashes.
The lady with eyes of coal beckoned to me. I hesitated and placed the bag of the accursed shelf brackets before her. “Do you have the original receipt?” The breath caught in my throat. “My wife mailed the receipt with proofs of purchase for a rebate on another item. But if you will have mercy, Ma’am. This item is in packing from your own company and a refund would be a mere $3.97. I would even accept a gift card or an exchange.” Her eyes glowed the yet more fiery.”We give no refunds without receipts.”
“If you will only let me speak to a manager, Ma’am.” I uttered the words in deep desperation. Her eyes now appeared as wheels of flame. “Of course, you may see a manager, but you must step to the back of the line while I summon one.” I looked behind me. The line of the woeful stretched as far as my tear-filled eyes could see.
The door attendant who had been my guide and companion in this evil place, spoke once more: “My son, those who die in the wrath of God all come together here from every land; for the divine justice spurs them so. A good soul never passes this way.”
This ended, I came once again to my senses in the parking lot, I know not how. But the memory of the terror even now bathes me with sweat.
This is a parody of Canto Three in “Inferno”– part one of Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy, which was written while Dante was in political exile between the years1310 and 1320. The term “Dante-esque” usually refers to something unpleasant and interminable– like standing in a customer service line! If you read the original Canto Three, you will find that I have retained much of the original language, though not much of the true serious nature of his theme.
