Dan woke up with a migraine. Upon further
inspection he found that he could attribute the migraine to sleeping face-down
on a rock floor. After trying to go back to sleep and failing, Dan decided to
inspect his surroundings. He was in a cage. Not a cell, but a cage. The type of
cage that makes you admire the spaciousness and privacy of the average jail
cell. As soon as his pounding head permitted him, Dan began to observe the
world outside the cage. He soon began to notice an alarming abundance of
brimstone in the surrounding area and a seemingly permanent smell of sulphur,
also the heat. The heat in the room was not merely pressing, it was suffocating.
Being a logical man, Dan attempted to find an ordinary explanation for his
dilemma and eventually came to the conclusion that he had passed out drunk in a
“haunted house” amusement park attraction and stuck with this conclusion.
About 2 hours later Dan found himself on
the floor of his cage with an enormous wet spot underneath him. He deduced that
he had fallen asleep from heat and boredom. He also deduced that the wet spot
was, unfortunately, not sweat. He began to re-scan the room and noticed that
the apparently impenetrable brimstone walls outside of his cage were lined with
doors. A short while later one of these oddly hidden doors opened and, rather
than the miserable theme park attendant Dan expected to see, from it emerged a
creature that had no business being bipedal. Dan was understandably distressed
by this, but screaming and collapsing at the sight of it was probably quite
rude.
Apparently insulted, the creature returned
what felt like a few hours later, or was it a different one? Regardless, Dan
thought they all looked the same to him, before acknowledging the subtle
differences in antennae length and scale texture and reprimanding himself for
being racist… or speciesist, or whatever. The creature scuttled, or waddled or
crawled (depending on your point of view), over to Dan and produced a long
metal rod with a spherical bulb on top and began to poke him. At first Dan
didn’t mind since the metal was nice and cool but eventually it became
intensely annoying.
“C’mon, stop” said Dan
The merciless poking continued
“Seriously dude, please”
No response.
“Please stop” said Dan as a last resort.
After many more pleas and an obvious lack or interest and care from the
creature Dan lay down on the floor of the cage and curled up, assessed his
situation, evaluated the facts (that he was hungry, dehydrated, in pain and
smelling powerfully of semi-dried urine) and began to sob. The creature stopped
prodding and started to observe the hysterically sobbing Dan. It then showed
some indication of surprise and interest before raising its head to the air and
making the most incredibly hideous noise Dan had ever heard. To cope with this
he began to cry more. As he sat there wallowing in self-pity a group of
creatures converged around the cage and began to scrutinize Dan with what
appeared to be interest, insofar as far as interest could be shown by something
that technically did not have a face. The original creature then reproduced the
Sceptre of Mild Annoyance and began to swab at Dan’s tear drenched face. It seemed
amazed that he could produce water from his eyes, or at all.
An opportunistic weasel at heart, Dan
recognized opportunity when he saw it. He realized that the creature that was
currently gazing in amazement at the moisture on the Sceptre of Mild Annoyance was
fascinated by his ability to excrete water. With this in mind Dan unclenched
from his foetal position, got up slowly and flashed his previously hidden
armpits to his audience and robustly yelled “BEHOLD, WATER!” Upon recovering
from the initial shock of the sudden loud noise, the creatures’ attentions were
drawn to the sweat spots on Dan’s shirt and they appeared to gawk with all
three of their mouths (even the one with mandibles). Saying that they looked
surprised would be like saying that some people disagree with the mullet, sure
it was true but only to the extent horrendous understatements were called true.
Slowly, as if in awe, a few of the assembled creatures branched off from the
group and came closer to Dan.
The creatures were not used to water; this
much was obvious from their reaction, why this was so was the real question.
See, Dan knew only to the most limited extent that he shouldn’t be here. Here,
was not defined. Dan’s memory was blank and as far as he knew he could’ve been
anywhere from an alien space-ship to the bottom of the ocean. His actual
location though, would be far more surprising, both to him and to the human
population at large. As he flashed his pits and examined the assembled creatures,
he was surprised to hear a door shift open. The freakish monsters parted to
reveal a familiar figure. A figure he had seen pretty much everywhere since he
was a child. Dan was shocked to find himself gazing at the red-skinned,
goat-legged, black-horned mustachio’d icon: Satan himself. Dan then did what
most people confronted with an existential crisis, the sudden possibility of
being dead and severe dehydration would’ve done in that situation and fainted
rather daintily.
When he awoke, Dan was surprised to find
himself wearing clean clothes on a shockingly tasteful porch overlooking the
pits of damnation, seated on a satin sofa in front of a room that was,
surprisingly, not filled with fire and brimstone but rather with doilies and
fine china teacups. It really was quite excellently decorated. Dan coughed
politely to catch the attention of the figure seated on the opposite sofa. When
this failed he tried “I love the décor”
“Interior design is my passion” replied Satan.
“So, what brings a mortal to my domain?”
Satan continued
“So... I’m alive?” said Dan
“Yes, yes you are. The water proved that.
Souls don’t sweat, or not as profusely as you did in any case. You gave my
demons quite a shock I hope you know.”
“Well, they’re quite shocking themselves”
The Prince of Lies chuckled, then asked
“How exactly did you get here without dying?”
Dan shut his eyes, concentrated and
attempted to recall the previous evening “I remember… I
remember
falling…falling for a long time and landing…soft sand, when I landed it was
soft. Then nothing. Then I woke up in a cage.”
“Yes, yes, I know all that. It was caught
on the CCTV. Where did you fall from?”
“It’s a Friday, right?”
“It was when you fell.”
“Then I was getting drunk with my friends
at a club so, maybe there.”
“Really?” Satan inquired sarcastically
“Okay, I was getting pissed in a bar.”
“They don’t call me the Prince of Lies for
nothing you know.”
“Fine, fine, I’d bought a few
bottles of wine from the supermarket and planned to pass out into a bowl of
cornflakes to end my miserable life while watching Family Feud. Happy?”
“Yes but obviously you didn’t do that
otherwise you wouldn’t be sweating”
“I’ve never been able to do it. I always
get bored around the 20 minute mark and leave to do something stupid. First,
though, I usually sober up at a…oh…OH!”
A stream of memories from the previous night suddenly smacked into
Dan’s conscious mind with the speed and force of a family heirloom flung by a
furious spouse; his first recollection was Steve Harvey’s surprisingly
lacklustre performance that night and heading to Starbucks 10 minutes earlier
than usual completely hammered and seeking a way out of his crippling
loneliness and boredom. He recalled finding the barista in the parking lot
holding a thick black book and chanting something unintelligible. He remembered
shouting at the barista for a double shot of espresso as the guy was in the
middle of his invocations and getting a horrified look in response. The barista
stopped chanting halfway through the incantations and what should’ve been a
doorway to hell forming on the asphalt of the parking lot, turned out to be more
of a sinkhole to heck. The barista’s expression turned from one of horror at
being discovered, to one of rage at being interrupted. Dan then recalled being
grabbed by the barista, asking for his manager and subsequently being flung
into the half-formed sinkhole. A sinkhole which was essentially a crack in
Hell’s ceiling and would probably attract an unhealthy amount of attention.
Satan received this information with no
small amount of distaste. As the big boss it was his responsibility to fix this
and he was going to have to go to the detestably cold Overworld in order to
plug up an interdimensional sinkhole and return this mortal, before going back
to an eternity of monotony. Once you’ve tortured one soul, you’ve tortured them
all. Ruling hell was not very motivating and Satan considered leaving the issue
for later so that he’d have more to do in the future and a way out of his cycle
of bore. He acknowledged, however, that he had a responsibility to return this
young chappie to the Overworld and decided to get on it. He led Dan through a
number of exceedingly tastefully furnished rooms and into a corridor with an
elevator at the end. The interior of the elevator had three buttons labelled
“Heaven” “Earth” and “Hell”. Satan pressed the “Earth” button which proceeded
to glow blue. A few seconds later, the elevator slowly jolted into action.
“It’s going to be a very, very long ride” said Satan.
It would, in fact, be eight hours before
they reached the Overworld. The distance from Hell to Earth wasn’t exactly
short and the mechanism used to traverse dimensions depended on an imp taped to
the outside of the elevator working a spell to move the elevator through the
interdimensional veil to a specific location. This would be speedier if it
weren’t for the fact that the spell was written in very tiny handwriting on a
roll of paper that measured in the kilometres and the imp reciting it was
elderly, had a stutter, failing eyesight
and a tendency to fall asleep at awkward times. It’s just that the imp has
family in need and Satan couldn’t bring himself to replace him. Satan’s a
sweetie at heart really.
It didn’t help that the medium through
which the veil between the worlds is traversed is an elevator. It’s a nice
elevator, very spacious, plays some decent elevator music but it’s still an
elevator and as with virtually every elevator ride in the multiverse it was awkward.
Given that this particular elevator ride was eight hours long there was a great
deal of awkward to get through. The constant shuffling of feet and mumbled half
comments from both sides did nothing to help the atmosphere. Eventually they were forced to make actual
sentient connection and break the ice.
Surprisingly, it went well. Dan’s father
walking out on him at age 6 resonated with The Prince of Darkness’ serious
daddy issues pertaining to being tossed out of his father’s home over what he
believed to be a petty squabble. Millennia of boredom on Satan’s end seemed to
fade into nonexistence with Dan’s conversation. Finally, for the first time in
memory The Prince of Darkness had someone new to talk to; someone who was happy
just to have a friend. Dan’s hectic work life as a horse inseminator left him
little time to make friends at work and he’d always found it difficult to
approach people, as a result of this Dan’s chance encounter with Satan was the
first serious social interaction he’d had in months and he was absolutely
elated.
They were almost surprised when the
elevator stopped.
It
was around 4 AM when the duo exited the, now hideously rank, elevator into the
parking lot of the Starbucks. Apparently no real effort had been made to fix
the gaping hole into Tartarus in the floor of the parking lot, the maintenance
crew instead decided to put four “Caution: Wet Floor” signs around the
partially formed portal and hope for the best. It was at this point that Satan
resolved to plug up the hole with the barista’s, preferably still living,
flabby body, partially due to his incompetence in basic demonology but mostly
because the “Caution: Wet Floor” signs were placed with seemingly no regard to
aesthetic or design whatsoever. They found the barista inside the coffee shop
picking his nose. At the sight of Satan and the man he had thrown into a pit to
Hell, the barista let out a shrill scream and began to run. Fortunately for
Satan, goat legs have the added advantage of speed, and unfortunately for the
barista, boobs on a man tend to create aerodynamic drag. Satan then proceeded
to calmly carry the squealing barista to the hole and forcefully shoved him
into the partially complete portal. The barista functioned as a very
satisfactory, if noisy, plug. Then Prince of Darkness then gently placed his
hand on the floor of the lot and, as if in immediate response, the asphalt
began to shimmer and heave before the very ground began to move in a distinctly
snakelike way. Long, fat, tendrils of asphalt slithered towards the howling
barista and began to cover him, thereby closing the hole and creating an
accidental speed bump in the process.
Having resolved the matter, Dan and The Prince
of Lies were about to part ways, each ready to return to their respective
lonely and unfulfilling lives before Dan turned to Satan, locked eyes with him
and said
“Hey, wanna go clubbing?”
END
