Horror is always game for a life; no bone is left unturned, no body ignored in the haunt for a good joke. In the pages that follow, punishments are meted out in inventive fashion, a his-and-hearse mix of stories utterly in tomb with each other. Language, it seems, is truly the Devil's plaything, and why should he have all the good jokes? After all, are we not all entitled to carrion laughing? In the end, dying is awfully good at raising the spirits and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Peace and blood...