A Little Pile of Trash

I dreamed that Hell was an exquisitely confected array of interlocking corporations and trusts.  All prepared with the most careful art.

But it mattered little, because there were very few things at all to be owned, most of what little there was was broken, and ignoring the corporate forms altogether the devil jealously kept those few things heaped up in a little pile of trash on which  he sat like a mountebank dragon.