Well, this place isn't so bad, he thought happily as he took his surroundings. In the distance, he could see what appeared to be a small town, complete with a Main Street lined with rather small houses. Could this be some kind of midget hell?, Angel wondered. No matter, anything was preferable to spending eternity locked in mortal combat with a puppet version of Lindsey McDonald. Angel pictured Lindsey's reaction when he realized that Angel had escaped Smile Time Hell. He could just see Lindsey's tiny felt body shaking with rage, Lindsey stomping about the studio, swearing vengeance.
He noticed that the houses seemed a bit off somehow. Peering closely, Angel realized it was because each home had a single large, oval, entrance instead of a door. The houses lacked windows as well. They weren't homes, they were doghouses.
Scrambling to his feet, he realized something was very wrong. Specifically his feet; he had four of them. Four feet at the end of four legs covered with tight, curly, black hair. Angel whipped his head around wildly, trying to get a better look at his body, but his long hairy ears kept getting in the way. Craning his neck, he spotted what could only be a tail, complete with a big, puffy, black pompom.
Angel gasped at the horrific sight. It was even worse than he had feared. He was in Toy Poodles on Parade Hell.
He watched as the dogs kept coming, and coming and coming, a never-ending stream of perky toy poodles, each with a jaunty pompadour and a rhinestone collar. Still reeling with shock, he joined the parade of poodles marching in formation.
This wasn't so bad, he thought. At least I'm not in Smile Time Hell fighting off a psychotic Texan. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. He looked down; a tiny brown poodle, more tea-cup than toy sized, had sunk a surprisingly sharp set of fangs into his leg. The little dog snarled and glared up at Angel, anger burning in his oddly familiar blue eyes.
Blue eyes? Oh no, Angel thought. I've been followed.
The End.