two quick shots

There are probably phones in hell. Everyone wants to make a call, but there are no good jobs, and the long-distance rate runs in the millions. The jobs are all things like Mudsucker, Flamekeeper, Burnt Flesh Collector, Executive Freak-Stabber, etc. The CEO's are all true demons, who jump from company to company filling their minions' heads will nonsensical dreams. The fact is, there is no hope at all; but if the workers knew this, they would stop showing up for work. (Some problems are universal.)

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Somewhere there is a world, perhaps named Arraghk. All its creatures are slime. Slithering mucus with no hope of improving themselves. Yet slime naturally settles into layers, and the things in one layer argue over who is superior with the things on the layer below. An eternity of moronic burbling. So when the comet hits and blasts the sewage of their world into oblivion, the sound of molten silence is a considerable improvement.