Kirt here. I woke up figuring this out and just couldn't _not_ share this
one with y'all...(and remember: it's a _joke_!!)

There once was a fellow (OK, let's call him Kirt) who grew up on Hostess
products (ho hos, suzy-Q's, fruit pies, etc) and eventually gave Fit For
Life a go. Later he became instincto. Through a complex set of
circumstances, he contracted malaria, while in Antarctica sampling krill
and penguin fat, and died.

Imagine his surprise (being a complete spiritual flunky) when he ended up
in a long line at St. Peter's (yes, _that_ Peter) gate. Slowly the line
inched forward and finally he was face to face with the gatekeeper himself.
St Peter looked over the documents in Kirt's file, did an Alta Vista search
on both his first and last name, and finally said, "Hmmm...pretty
interesting life, but I'm afraid there's no way around it--that was
entirely too much junk food as a youngster--and it'll be off to hell with
you. There is _some_ good news though: you have your choice of raw-vegan
hell or instincto hell."

Kirt was about to say instincto hell, when he heard whispering from behind
him, "Psst...psst...take the vegan hell." Turning he saw, of all people,
Ombodhi. Having always suspected Ombodhi had a more direct line to the Muse
than he himself ever had, Kirt took the advice to heart, turned to St.
Peter and said, "I'll take the vegan hell."

Soon after, Kirt and Ombodhi were making their way down the corridor to
hell. Having never really met each other before they caught up on old times
they never had and finally the discussion turned serious...

Kirt:  So what did you die of Ombodhi?
Ombodhi: AIDS, well really HIV, um...I mean TB. Yeah that's it, TB. But I
tell you she was worth it. A real Goddess!
Kirt: It was malaria for me. So much for the non-germ theory, eh? By the
way, why did you tell me to choose the vegan hell?
Ombodhi: I'm not really sure. I was getting into some heavy aromatherapy
sessions as I got sicker and sicker, and started having visions. I'm not
sure, but I definately got the sense that vegan hell would be better for
you. Maybe me too. Again, I'm not sure.
Kirt:  Well, we'll soon see, eh? Who is that?!

There in the hallway was a small man wearing animal skins crouched over a
computer terminal. His right hand was flying over the keyboard typing at a
furious pace and his left hand clutched a half-eaten cheeseburger. His eyes
looked like this ** and he was surrounded by a bunch of wooden clubs and
stone tools, not to mention cheeseburger wrappings from a variety of fast
food giants.

Ombodhi: I think it's the Wardman. He died from overwork.
Kirt: Wow. Hi Ward!

The man hunkered over the terminal didn't lose a stroke in his typing, kept
his ** eyes staring straight forward, and only tilted the cheeseburger at
the two fellows, saying, "No time, guys! I gotta finish my post on
micro-fossil tooth wear in the next millenium."

So on Kirt and Ombodhi continued on and finally approached the side-by-side
doors labeled "vegan hell" and "instincto hell". Upon entering vegan hell
they saw many dozens of people feasting at a table laden with the highest
quality newt's eyeballs, mastadon bone marrow, whale blubber, venison
liver, broken-open crabs, and so on. Each person had a nasty brute behind
them with a blowtorch and a whip, torturing them to continue eating. And
each of the vegans had tears streaming down their eyes as they did so.

Kirt:  Why are they crying, Ombodhi?
Ombodhi: Because they simply can't believe it tastes so good to take
another's life.
Kirt: Wow. I wonder what the instincto hell is like?
Ombodhi: Let's take a look. There's a viewing window over there (pointing
to the far wall).

They went over to the window and saw less than a half-dozen instinctos,
each also being tortured by a brute to continue eating, and also with tears
streaming down their faces. The only difference was that the table was
heaped with a huge pile of alfalfa sprouts!

Kirt:  Wow. Why are _they_ crying?
Ombodhi: Because most of 'em the got the taste-change after the second
mouthful.

Cheers,
Kirt (who is now returning to some real work...again)