"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

Wham!

"Ow!"

Thud!

"Gah!"

Crack!

"Ack!"

Crunch!

"Yeow!"

Thumpthumpthunmpthumpthumpthump…

Finally coming to a stop on warm ground, Mad Dawg groaned as he pulled himself up, his head was killing him and his vision was blurry. The whole world was still spinning and his head felt like it was closing in on itself. With a WHUMP! His bag landed right next to him, having survived the fall. Sighing in relief, Mad Dawg opened his bag and got out the small medkit he had, taking a flask and bottle of aspirin out and downing two pills. After a few minutes, Mad Dawg sighed in relief as his head seemed to loosen up somewhat, letting him catch his breath.

"Well, that hurt…" Mad Dawg grumbled, suddenly stopping when he heard his voice. "Whoa. Is that… No." Mad Dawg stopped, hearing his voice being almost three octaves deeper than it normally was.

"Wh..what happened to my voice?" He muttered looking down at his paws, turning them over and seeing the silver-gray fur around his hands and-

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Mad Dawg screamed in terror, looking over himself and seeing that he seemed to be trapped in some sort of hybrid form of his beast form and his human form. His hands were still human-like, but covered in fur with sharp claws. He felt his teeth had changed to their monstrous form, and he was bigger than normal, his shoulders were more defined, but his chest was still somewhat skinny with a notable tuft of fir in the center. His feet had also seemed to grow fur on them as well, but thankfully had retained their human shape. On top of all of that, Mad Dawg's normally dirty-blonde hair was now ash-gray.

"What's happening!?" Mad Dawg said, feeling light headed again. He looked around for someone, anyone, to tell him he was dreaming, or that this was some sort of sick prank, or that he was just tripping out of his mind right now… But he wasn't. Even when he was poisoned, or when he took those really, really powerful shrooms that in hindsight were most definitely laced with methamphetamine, he felt… disoriented. Now, he felt stable, but lost. His instincts told him to do what he did best: keep moving. But logic, reason and curiosity kept him frozen stiff.

"Am… am I dead!?" Mad Dawg exclaimed aloud. "But… how!? How did I die!?"

His mind flashed back to the backyard party…

"I LOVE YOU ALL, DAWGY'S GOIN' HOME! WOOOO!"

"Did… did that kill me!?" Mad Dawg sputtered. "How?!" But before he could say anything else, something from about five days ago played in his head:

"Well, I do need to warn you. This doorway might send you home, or it could liquify your internal organs and solidify your blood, or it might deconstruct your genetics on a molecular level before attempting to re-build your body in a way that couldn't support your internal organs, which would then crumble in on itself. It could also misread your physical matter as electrical energy and shred you into your base genetic strands which would be scattered across time and space as we know it…"

"I'm… I'm dead!" Mad Dawg sputtered. "But, I can't be dead! I'm alive right now…?! Where am I!?"

Stumbling forward, Mad Dawg ran towards what looked like a road, before skidding to a stop. He spun about, trying to figure out something, ANYTHING! What was happening!? Where was- "Wait. What's that!?"

Was that…

A sign…?

It was! A sign!

Running towards it, Mad Dawg slung his bag onto his back, feeling the warm ground beneath his hands and feet. He never thought he'd be relieved to see of all things, a sign… but this was a weird place, and he had no idea what to do. First, if he figured out where he was, then he could start a plan, maybe find a place to stay, weapons, or-

All at once, Mad Dawg's heart exploded. Terror filled his veins as he saw the sign, that almost seemed to be written in blood, everything clicked, everything solidified, and any hope Mad Dawg had died in his heart.

Welcome To Hell, You Were Always Told To Go Here, Now You're Here!

"I'm… I'm in hell…" Mad Dawg muttered, this slowly beginning to dawn on him. He reached for something, and then grew enraged "AND DID I SERIOUSLY LEAVE MY FREAKIN' POP TARTS IN THE TOASTER AGAIN!?"

Back above, at his home, three chocolate fudge pop tarts sat in a toaster, uneaten and growing cold. Much like what had happened when his adventures began, with what felt like… four years? Who knew.

"THAT JOKE WASN'T FUNNY THE FIRST TIME YOU ASSHOLE!" Mad Dawg shouted at the author.

Mad Dawg opened his bag once again and sighed, pulling out his crossbow. It was the only weapon he had left aside from his chainsaw… and even that had seen better days. He loaded the crossbow to be safe, looking at its smaller size compared to his new form and wondering if there was a way he could strap it to his newly massive arms. Slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder, he attached the crossbow to his back and put his sunglasses on.

As he kept walking, he heard something off in the distance, and he spun about, fear gripping him for a few moments. His eyes paranoidly darted about, and his breathing was hyperactive for about six seconds… then, there was nothing but silence.

"Ugh… maybe I should cut back on the Phoenix Energy drinks…" Dawg mentally muttered.

As he kept walking, heading towards the large city, something else dawned on Mad Dawg.

He was dead.

That was it. He was dead. He was dead, and in hell. It was over, no more adventures, no going home, no holding up his deal to Lisa, no reconciliation with those he had hurt in the blackout, no… nothing.

"I'm… dead." Mad Dawg whispered, and then anger flared up in his eyes. "No! Damn it! I'm not dead! I'm… ME! I can't be dead! I can't… HOLY SHIT I CAN'T BE IN HELL!"

Yelling, Mad Dawg drove his fists into the ground, cracking the uneven rock and leaving two potholes where his fists had struck. Falling to one knee, Mad Dawg growled, breathing heavily, and slowly looked at his massive hands.

Blood…

Blood and guts…

That's what they were coated with… He was a hero in life, saving those who needed it, saving the world more than once! But still, all the good in the world couldn't wash the blood and oil off of his hands from the incident years ago.

"God…" Mad Dawg practically whimpered. "I…" He bit his lip and shook his head. It didn't matter now, the choices were made, the trails blazed, and he was in hell. End of story. God had made a choice; his soul was judged… wait. Did he have a soul? Well, he had to have, otherwise he wouldn't be here.

"Now what?" Mad Dawg thought. "What in the literal hell am I supposed to do now?"

Looking back up, Mad Dawg looked to the city in the distance and exhaled. Well, if he was in hell, then that was that. All he could do now was make the best of it… or the best-worst or… whatever. Setting off down the road once more, Mad Dawg clicked his Walkman on, letting music fill his mind, and drowning out the insane, mechanical laughter seemed to emanant all around him, like an unseen figure following him.

"Alright. Hit me with your best shot." Mad Dawg said to no-one in particular, before walking down the road towards the city in the distance.

"Heh, I'm on the highway to- No. Bad Dawg! Bad joke!"

Across hell, Charlotte, the princess of hell, opened the door to her room and slumped down in her chair at her desk. She exhaled with a slight pout, and opened up her journal, setting to writing about the most recent incident.

I lost another one… and I don't get it! We were so close! We've done it before, and I don't know what I did wrong. But… she didn't follow through. Maybe I'm doing something wrong, maybe it's the design of the interior? I know it's possible, I've seen it happen! Right?!

…maybe Daddy's right, maybe demons can't change, and the ones who did were the exceptions, and not the rule, or however that phrase goes… Still, Dust seems to be getting better! I don't like that he still works where he does, but he's not as… vulgar as he used to be! Maybe it's just when I'm around, but still, that's some form of self-control. It's a start! I'm not giving up yet, and I feel like we're gonna have another guest any day now!

The knock at the door ripped Charlie from her thoughts, and she turned back, seeing her girlfriend, Vaggie standing in the doorway.

"Hey." She nodded.

"Hi Vag." Charlie said with her usual grin, although there was a bit of sadness behind it, and both women could see it.

"You okay?"

"…yeah…" Charlie said quietly. Vaggie walked over and pulled her girlfriend into a hug, resting her head on her shoulder.

"It's all right, four for three isn't… horrible." Vaggie tried to reassure her. "C'mon, don't beat yourself up over this." Her words had the effect she hoped, as Charlie sighed, but nodded with a smile nonetheless. The princess snuggled closer, enjoying the embrace of Vaggie who smiled and stumbled backwards as Charlie leaned on her. The two fell onto her bed, and Charlie laughed slightly.

"Sorry…" She laughed.

"Don't be." Vaggie smirked playfully. "And again, stop blaming yourself…"

"I know, I know." The princess nodded. "I bet we'll have someone new here by tomorrow's end!"

"Well… I wouldn't say that soon…" Vaggie began, but stopped herself when she saw Charlie's face. So full of optimism and joy, how could she not smile? "Heh, there's that smile." The two remained where they were until Vaggie finally pushed Charlie off. "We can get back to this later, let's make sure the hotel's ready if someone comes through."

"When." Charlie corrected her.

Five Days Later…

Dawg had been in hell for a few days now, not that he could tell time too well. There wasn't any sense of day or night, and Mad Dawg had no idea how long he had been here, as the sky was a constant dark-reddish-pink. Since his arrival, he had quickly learned that the other residents here fell into one of three categories: either they wanted you dead, they ran in terror from you, or they wanted to have sex with you. None of those categories were what Mad Dawg would consider himself to be, he was just trying to keep to himself. Annoyingly, most of the demons down here didn't care for that, but thanks to his enhanced strength, Mad Dawg was able to tear through potential attackers.

Quite literally.

Presently…

A demon screamed in pain as Mad Dawg ripped his arm clean off before mercilessly beating him with it.

"I! JUST! WANTED! TO! BE! LEFT! ALONE!" Mad Dawg roared as he beat the bloodied demon with his severed limb. Finally stopping, he grabbed the smaller demon who had pulled a gun on him and proceeded to drop-kick him. The physics seemed off down here, as the tiny demon soared into the sky, clearing several buildings as he flew away, screaming the whole while. He turned to the demon who was pinned to the wall by one of Dawg's crossbow bolts, staring in terror at the large jackal-like creature walking towards him. Mad Dawg looked at the cowering demon and sighed, ripping the bolt out of the demon's shoulder, he tossed a small roll of bandages as he walked away.

"Cover the wound, you should be fine." He remarked before stopping and turning around. "And tell your friends. LEAVE. ME. ALONE." He snarled the last words with pure venom. Not waiting to hear the demon's response, Mad Dawg kept walking. Thankfully, he wasn't the odd one out down here, and most of the denizens wouldn't give him a second look. Unless they either wanted to start a fight, wanted to hit on him, or wisely looked away.

"I gotta find an info kiosk or something…" Mad Dawg frowned. "Or a place to stay…"

For the past half-week, Dawg had taken up residence in what he assumed was an abandoned railway roundhouse. It reminded him of the old train yard he lived in back up on earth. He had decided to make his bedroom in a run-down passenger car, that had been left to rot there. He didn't know why the afterlife had trains, but he wasn't complaining. It was oddly… comfortable. If this was hell, Dawg assumed everything would've been pain and suffering, including the sleeping conditions. He also had refused to go into the major city, and was only doing so now because… he needed to figure out some sort of plan for survival.

Surprisingly, things in general had been fine. Sure, a few other demons had stumbled into the junk yard, looking for scrap metal and something called 'Exterminator Weapons', but they either took off when he showed up, or they ignored him and he ignored them. He didn't need to fight them, and he didn't want to give them a reason to fight him. While it was true that, one or two of them tried to, and they did get some hits off on him, once he started fighting back, they took off.

Oddly enough, Mad Dawg was feeling pretty good about things. Yeah, that was weird as hell, but here him out. He had spent his whole life trying to be a good guy, a hero, a friend… and he had suffered because of that, and made others suffer too. There was a lot of pain, bloodshed and tears, but a lot of good as well. But now, he was trapped in the afterlife, forever kept in the literal pits of hell. A place with no hope, no escape, and nothing but eternal suffering for all who dwelled here.

And no one cared about being a hero!

Sure, he didn't consider himself a 'Bad' person. Okay, actually, no. That was a lie. He didn't consider himself… Huh. No. Not that either… "Where was I going with this?" Mad Dawg muttered to himself. "Whatever."

He didn't need to worry about following some moral code, he didn't need to worry about angering someone by being 'different'. Sure, he wasn't going to do things that would make everyone think 'Great, the authors lost it again', but there was a sense of freedom that he had been looking for! Heading into a nearby store, Dawg gave a slight wave to the owner.

"Hey." Dawg nodded.

"Hey." The demon nodded.

Mad Dawg had been here a few times, mostly to buy more bolts for his crossbow. He had kept an eye out for another double-barrel shotgun, but hadn't found one yet. Dawg cast a glance at the weapons for sale, there were swords, knives, guns, maces, clubs, pretty much anything Dawg could think of. He looked around for a few more minutes, then headed up to the front, getting ready to leave once more.

"Hey, you got any shotties?" Mad Dawg asked casually.

"Yeah, we's got 'em." Dante nodded. "12 gauge? Semi-autos?"

"Uh… I was thinking double barreled?" Mad Dawg awkwardly replied. He knew from his small knowledge on 'gun culture' that while double-barrels were cool, they were far from the most practical type of gun, especially in the location where he found himself. The demon shrugged then pulled a long double barrel shotgun from under the counter.

"Some edgit got his arms blown off yest'rday, has no use for this anymore." He remarked.

"Mine." Mad Dawg said, his eyes widening, dropping a stack of cash and then deciding he had got what he wanted. "Hey, you got a buzz saw or something?"

Ten minutes later, Mad Dawg sighed and smiled down at his new gun, as he carved 'Ol' Rusty II' into the underside of the right barrel. He snapped it open and loaded two shells before closing it again. "Now this just feels right."

This was the first time Mad Dawg had been into the larger part of the city, at least, been here and not felt the need to grab some food and run for the border, trying to keep himself out of trouble. Now that he had a gun, he felt like he could survive a little bit of trouble, but didn't want to start any, just yet… Passing by what he assumed was a news station, the logo for…

"666 News? Really?" Mad Dawg laughed to himself. "That's the best they could come up with!? Not like, Nekro-News… or Hellscape Hourly? Slayer at Six? Or… Fox News?"

He stayed and watched for a minute, and almost immediately had thoughts on the hosts. Kathy Killjoy seemed like an irredeemable, soul-sucking creature from the deepest pits of this nefarious realm… and Dawg kinda liked her. It was clear she didn't care for anyone or anything other than herself, and for some reason, Dawg felt entertained watching her. Tom Trench reminded him a little bit of Baptiste, namely with the fact that he seemed like the only sane man in a world of crazies.

"Focus Dawg. Focus." He chided himself. "Find a place to stay…crush over demon news anchor lady later- wait what?"

As he walked off, Mad Dawg froze as he heard a soft, metallic laugh echoing around him. His eyes widened and he bit his lip so hard he drew blood. His mind began racing about, and he set off on a brisk pace, trying to think of what that could've been instead of what he feared it was... but his mind kept coming back to a simple answer:

You're in hell.

He is here.

This is your damnation.

Mad Dawg wasn't even paying attention anymore, and didn't notice where he was until he stepped in some weird liquid. Looking down, he recoiled in revulsion as he saw a pool of yellow liquid around his feet, and groaned in disgust. Then he noticed what looked like an egg lying a few feet away, cracked in half… was this… yolk?

KABOOM!

Whatever it was, Mad Dawg now found himself being flung across the street, landing roundly on his face and growling in agitation. As he pulled himself up, he grabbed his shotgun and loaded it, ready to shoot something.

"Comin' though!" A voice shouted as a heel dug into Dawg's back, and someone jumped into the air, throwing several grenades about, all of which exploded. Now on his feet, Mad Dawg saw a woman whose outfit screamed 'Punk Rock 4 Life!' and who was currently fighting what appeared to be a swarm of living eggs. Mad Dawg looked around, then scowled, aiming his shotgun and blasting an egg to smithereens, surprising the woman.

"Ya mind telling me what's going on?" Mad Dawg asked in annoyance, making his way over to her, only to drop behind a large chunk of rock as the bullet storm picked up again.

"This punk-ass bitch thinks he owns this part of the 'gram! He's outta his damn mind if he thinks I'm giving it up!" The woman retorted, firing a few shots off, then dropping back down. "You must be new here, or a complete dumbass. I'm Cherri Bomb."

"I'm Mad Dawg." Mad Dawg nodded in reply. "And I'm both. Hang on, I think I got something that'll help…"

Mad Dawg began digging through his bag, pulling out random parts of… something. All the while, Cherri found herself being pushed back by the oncoming forces. She threw her bombs and blasted them apart, but they kept coming. Gradually, she saw them surrounding her, and her confidence waned for a few seconds… but down here, a few seconds could mean all the difference.

"Uh… Sad Bitch?! If your gonna do something… DO IT NOW, DAMN IT!"

EWOOSH!

Out of nowhere, a large, long stream of fire snaked its way across the battle field. Several of the egg bois were incinerated (for now), and more than a few were left running and screaming on fire. "Burn baby burn!" Mad Dawg laughed, firing off another stream from his homemade flamethrower. Cherri looked over, impressed with the ingenuity and simplicity of the design. However, he hadn't thought this through, and a few of the sparks caught on the fur on his hands, which made Cherri laugh. "AGH!"

Quickly putting the fire out, Mad Dawg unscrewed the propane cylinder and looked to where Cherri was.

"Yo! Bomberwoman!" Mad Dawg shouted. "Fire up the hole!"

Throwing his canister, the large metal case bounced and rolled across the road, making a metallic scratching sound as it came to a stop near a large group of the egg bois. Cherri realized what was happening and opened fire.

KRACKABOOM!

A giant fireball went up in the middle of the street, the shockwave broke a few windows and seemed to destroy all of the attacking forces. Cherri blinked, having covered her eye when the explosion went off, and looked to where Dawg was, seeing him standing there as if nothing had happened. Only to notice his back was on fire. The attackers seemed to have had enough, as they turned and cartoonishly fled deeper into the city.

"We done here?" He asked casually.

"Yeah. Thanks kid." She smirked, not commenting on the burning fur.

"Hey, you know where like, a hotel or apartment building is? I've been looking for a place to stay." Mad Dawg asked, dropping and rolling for a second to put out the small fire on his back.

"Yeah… a friend of mine is staying at this hotel on the other side of town. Happy… Happy Hotel or something stupid like that. It's a big-ass eyesore, head that way and you'll see it."

"Awesome! Thanks!" Mad Dawg said with a thumbs-up as he walked off. Cherri watched, feeling nervous that Mad Dawg may suddenly turn around and attack. She had seen it with demons before, but to her surprise, Mad Dawg jumped onto the side of a building and climbed up, before disappearing onto the rooftop. The faint sound of a heavy figure landing on a rooftop could be heard, but then nothing else.

"…weird guy." Cherri muttered, then punched one of the remaining Egg Bois off to one side, not even looking to see if she hit him, knowing she had from the sound of shells cracking.

Running through hell, Mad Dawg was picking up on a few things. At first, he had assumed the posters marked 'RUN IF YOU SEE HIM!' featuring a bizarre demon with a tree-like head and strange eyes were a turf-related thing, but everywhere he went, he saw warnings of this demon. The closest thing to a name he had seen was 'Radio', and nothing more. Furthermore, there was a horned woman named 'Lilith' who sung apparently, not that Mad Dawg cared too much… from the look of it, her kind of music wasn't the kind of music Dawg enjoyed. But she seemed like an important, or at least, well tolerated, figure down here.

"So, there's a hotel, cities, businesses, I think… heck it seems like there's some sort of political system too… That makes sense, I'm pretty sure ninety-nine percent of politicians are here, so I guess that explains why there's a political system." He thought. "If I'm gonna be stuck here, then it's probably for the best I stick to the outskirts, the last thing I want is to get caught up in politics… should I see about joining a gang? Nah… that'd probably go over badly for new blood…"

Mad Dawg reached what he assumed was the center of the city. Here, demons were going about their afterlives, and a few casting glances Dawg's way, clearly able to tell he was new, but not saying or doing anything to start a fight. This time. Three loud BONG… BONG… BONG… echoed around the town, making Mad Dawg jump in surprise and look around, seeing a massive, graffiti-coated clock tower signaling that it was currently three-o'-clock, reaching to the reddish-pink sky. But that's not what caught his attention, as written beneath appeared to be a timer which read:

Next Cleanse 269 Days

"Cleanse? What's that all about?" He blinked. "Is there seriously some sort of annual gang war? Is this as stupid as The Purge? Seriously. Those movies suck… they have such a great concept, and they keep screwing it up-wait, what was I talking about?"

Shrugging his questions off, Mad Dawg kept walking, fumbling with his tape deck to rewind the tape inside it to listen to some music as he traveled, and when his head was down, he didn't notice the demon in front of him until they collided.

"Agh. Sorry… sorry…" A female voice muttered, Mad Dawg looked up and saw what he was going to assume was a spider-demon, looking away nervously, rubbing one of her arms.

"No… no that was my bad." Mad Dawg shook his head. "Uh. Sorry." The two looked to one another, wordlessly wondering if they were gonna say anything else, but when neither did for about ten seconds, they both moved on. "Okay… hotel… there's… a hotel…somewhere…"

As he kept walking, a number of things began to dawn on Mad Dawg with more clarity. First of all, he was in hell. That probably meant he was dead. Secondly, if playing DOOM on his old GameBoy SP (which he now remembered was in his bag, hallelujah!) had taught him anything, it was that he had the two weapons he needed to survive: a chainsaw, and double-barreled-sawed-off shotgun. Third, playing DOOM also taught him that somehow, there was most likely an escape from this well, hell. Fourth…

"Okay. Let's all just run with the theory that I'm dead." Mad Dawg thought, speaking most to himself and those that still followed him (literally) to hell and back. "I'm not… human. So, do I have a soul? If so, does that mean I no longer have one? By that theory, that means a soul isn't a construct made by God himself, but can be replicated and originated by humans… THAT doesn't seem right. Also, I need to stop talking to myself. It's a needless exposition dump, and I tend to get WAY too 'logical' when this happens…"

Mad Dawg passed by a woman in black-and-red striped clothing, he noted that she looked to him with a mischievous smirk, and Mad Dawg returned it. However, he quickly mentally kicked himself for doing that, knowing that there was a good chance she was some sort of succubus… great. That's just what he needed to be dealing with.

"What was the name of this hotel, anyways? Motel Hello?" Mad Dawg thought, remembering that he had been told that there was a hotel, but he hadn't been told what it was called. "Oh, wait. There it is!"

Looking up, Mad Dawg's slight optimism quickly turned to 'Oh, yeah, NO.' when he saw the sign welcoming him to the 'Sweet Spot Motel' with a smaller one reading 'Ask about out hourly rates!' those two things quickly made it clear to him that this wasn't the type of hotel he was looking for.

For now, at least.

It took him about another two hours of wandering about the main city, ducking into alleys and bars to avoid beings he believed may have been a threat, and trying to find a hotel that wasn't either a by-hour type, or was clearly the front for a brothel. Usually, it was both.

"I need a drink…" Mad Dawg mentally muttered, walking over to a nearby vending machine and figuring, screw it, he was in hell. He was gonna smash and dash, just grab a drink and- "Why is there nothing but drugs?" No joke, every single option was effectively some type of powerful, A-Class narcotic. "Great. Now I'm not only in hell, but I can't even get a decent drink!"

Storming off, Mad Dawg failed to notice the second vending machine about six feet away that had an assortment of alcoholic and energy drinks. It was another two hours of Mad Dawg aimlessly wandering around the city looking for a non-brothel hotel, or at least one where he wouldn't have someone break into his room every hour to try and start something. Seriously, the author is weird and all, but he's not that weird… However, Mad Dawg was making a small map in his sketchbook as he walked, taking note of where some resturaunts were, where a few coffee houses were, and where some nightclubs were. Surprisingly, there didn't seem to be many gangs out and about, or at least, any that seemed to want to start something… Not that he was complaining, mind you. He was beginning to lose steam, wondering if he should just find an abandoned shipping container and lock himself in for the night, when he finally saw something that caught his attention… he couldn't say why, but he felt himself being pulled towards a nearby building… it was taller than the others, and seemed to be a smorgasbord of parts surgically slapped together to make some… thing… building… that just seemed all kinds of weird. But it was what he saw along the top that really caught his attention.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel…" He read aloud.

A.N. And… that's all for now folks! And welcome, to the Third Chapter of Mad Dawg's Tail (Ha) Hazbin Hotel: Dawg Outta Hell! (Or Dawg Outta Hell!)

I really, REALLY like the idea of HH, and figured that honestly this would be a good place for Dawg to end up. I've got the story outlined and most of it written already, so I think this'll ne a good one! It'll also be one of the darker ones, both in terms of humor and some content. But then again, this is Hazbin Hotel, so I'm not sure what you were expecting. Still, I'll try not to get so dark that it becomes clear that 'Oh great, the meds aren't working' but I digress.

There's a lotta faces to meet down here, and I think it's safe to say that heck will never be the same! Will Mad Dawg finally find a way home? Will he end up falling in love? Will he ever get Pop Tarts that he actually eats? How does someone like Mad Dawg end up in hell? All these and more will be answered in the coming chapters, so stay tuned!