A man dies. His soul is complete equilibrium. God and the devil can't decide where he belongs, so they choose to let the man decide himself.
The man, being no dummy, decides that he wants to visit both, for a week.
So, he goes to heaven. It's nice, but kind of boring. People in nice clothes playing Pinochle, classical music, comfortable beds, but you have to turn in early. Denver omelettes, that sort of thing.
Then, he goes to hell. Now, this is really something. People drinking Sazeracs from morning til night, champagne flowing off the tits of virgins, dance clubs open twenty four hours per day, skinny dipping, sex, sex, sex, bacon, gambling, poolgirls eating cheese from between your toes, you name it.
So, when it's decision time, the guy decides: Hell. Obviously.
So, he goes. And suddenly, it's nothing but fire and brimstone, rats, roaches, automobile sized potholes, racism, hot hot heat, stomachaches, no one wants to be your friend, and, well, you know, hell.
So the guy decides to have a chat with the devil.
He's all like, "What the fuck? When I came here to visit, it was an amazing party. Now, it's like, hell."
And the devil says: "Well yeah. That's when you were a tourist."