Report From Hell: Topside

It’s Friday evening, and you know what that means boys and girls…  That’s right… It’s time for another report from Hell located beneath a famed amusement park in Southern California!  And man has it been a great week for your favorite minion of Satan.

I got to go topside.

It should first be noted that I haven’t been out of hell in YEARS!  And by Hell I do include the amusement park whose name will not be mentioned.  Look, I thought it would be cool and all but you can only eat at the restraunt in the middle of the pirate ride for so long before it makes you sick.

GET THAT?!?  I’M TIRED OF EATING SHRIMP AND RICE PILAF ON THE EFFIN “BAYOU”!!!!

I… I… don’t even like going that far anymore.  I’m serious.  I finally know why those kids wear those heat exhaustion inducing costumes all day; it’s not poor labor practices, it’s punishment… punishment for supporting the whole damn industry.

Needless to say, I’m much more comfortable in Hell itself.  Okay, sure, there are some downsides.  Occassionally you might have your arm ripped out of your socket, but hey, that’s why you have two!  And trust me, having your arm viciously removed from your body is still MUCH more pleasant than watching Michael Jackson in a 3D science fiction “presentation”.

But amusement parks aside, I was kinda starting to miss topside.  I couldn’t remember the last time I slept on a bed that wasn’t filled with poisonous snakes, or didn’t have spikes that jabbed up through the mattress randomly just as you were starting to drift to sleep.

And while I’ve learned to live with the stench of sulfur all the time, there is absolutely no, and I mean NONE, zero chance of getting used to the bile inducing odor of Lucifer’s flatulence.  I watched a younger minion’s nostrils catch fire once.

So it happened a couple of days ago.  Things were kinda slow in Hell, and I was sitting listlessly on the couch when Satan said, “Wanna play some Wii?”

I shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Oh.”

He twiddled his thumbs for a minute.  “Wanna go torture Hitler some more?  I got some old tapes of Rush Limbaugh’s radio program I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Nah,” I muttered listlessly.  “You know I really don’t get off on the torture too terribly much.  Besides, you run the risk of Hitler actually liking them.”

“Good point.”

Lucifer had  a strange look on his face, one that dripped with empathy.  What people tend not to understand is that Satan’s actually rather sensitive and caring.  Sure, he’s evil and all, but that doesn’t mean that buried somewhere within his abyss like black heart there’s not at least some gold.

Even the Dark One knew that something was wrong, and you could tell he wanted to help.  “Well how about a trip to the pub?” he tried.

There’s only one bar in hell and its free.  You think to yourself that’s great, you can get hammered for free, but just like everything else down here, there’s a catch; either the beverages are non alcoholic (which is even worse because almost instantly after ordering one, you start getting chatted up by… things… that you need to seriously be plastered to go home with.  We’re talking three eyes and sentient warts here and they don’t take no for an answer), or if the beverages have tones of alcohol in them but cause curious and painful side effects… side effects like having your penis split down the middle when you go to take a leak.  I don’t know what happens to the women, and I don’t want to know, thank you very much.

“I’ll pass.”

“Kyle,” Satan said in a soft, caring tone.  “Is something wrong?”

He rested a palm on my back.  I know he was only trying to cheer me up, but that’s kind of hard to do when you start to hear and smell the sizzling of your own skin.

“er…” I tried to speak through the blistering pain.  “Um… (ow) Well… I just (holy fuck this hurts) kinda miss the world, you know (why can’t I die yet?)?”

“Oh,” Satan said.

“Not that I don’t love it here,” I was quick to clarify.  “I really do.”  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, he really was taking an interest, besides, his tears have a habit of making things go boom.  “It’s just been awhile, you know?”

Lucifer’s face cracked into a smile.  “I got just the thing!” he blurted out as he clapped my back hard, I think dislodging a lung from its place.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Well,” he said pulling a piece of paper out of his back pocket.  Satan doesn’t wear pants, mind you, but he still manages to have a back pocket.  “I’ve got a list of errands I needed to take care of topside anyway.  You can come.”

“Really?”

“I’ll even let you start the car,” he offered with a smile.  A second later he was tossing me the keys.

**

Satan drives a hybrid.  This is not because hybrids are evil, but because Satan actually kind of likes Earth.  “They have cheeseburgers up there,” he always says when asked why he likes Earth so much.  “You can have all the heaven vs. hell war crap you like, I just want a damn cheeseburger every once in a while.”

So aside from a little CO2 generation plant that we had put in to keep just enough antipathy regarding climate change going to piss people off, for the most part Hell has gone green… not literally of course, what with all the fire and blood its usually a rusty red color, but you get the point.

Packing some clothes and dirty magazines in the trunk, and hopping into the passenger seat, Satan gave me a nod and with a pleased grin that showed all of his nasty, jagged fangs, said, “Take us topside!”

And so I did, bowling over a couple of animatronic dutch kids singing about tulips in the process.

“Hey,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going topside!”

We both laughed.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“What’s what?”

“Oh nevermind, it’s just me going topside, that’s all.”

Satan chuckled… a little bit.

“You know what this look is?” I asked.

“You say what I think you’re going to say and I’ll impale on the car’s tail pipe.”

I shut up after that.

And soon we were free, the yellow sky of Southern California surrounding us, the shimmering road stretching out ahead complete with all of its beautiful and infinite possibilities.  I was back topside in the land of cheeseburgers, carjackings, and Buffy The Vampire Slayer reruns.

Dark Lord have I missed Buffy The Vampire Slayer reruns, especially the ones with Eliza Dushku… freeeow!  I made a mental note to stop by a video store on our travels.

“So where to first, Lord?”

“Chertoff,” he said, and with that the road trip toEast Coast began.

Actually, that part wasn’t particularly fun.  Satan gets restless on long road trips, and starts picking at his hooves with his teeth.  And keep in mind, we were in a hybrid, which meant that he was also halfway onto my seat nearly the whole way due to the lack of space.

After a long and uneventful journey, we finally arrived.  After grabbing something from the trunk, we headed off to Chertoff’s office.

“Oh, Satan… hey… great to see you!” he said, obviously a little shaken up.

“Good to see you, too Cherty,” Satan replied, obviously either oblivious or unconcerned with the obvious discomfort he was causing.

“And you’re friend?”

“Oh, him?” Satan said.  “That’s Kyle… my most trusted minion (it should be said I couldn’t repress a smile when he said this).  If he says something, assume it came from me, and if you don’t…”  Here Satan flashed a particularly winning (well it would have been if it weren’t for the fangs) smile, “I’ll have you skinned alive and wear your flesh like that creepy guy in that movie… what was the name?”

Silence of the Lambs,” I reminded him.

“Oh right.  Love that movie.  ‘It puts the lotion in the basket,’ HAHAHA!  You humans slay me sometimes.”

Chertoff was beginning to twitch.

“Oh, right, I just came to drop this off,” Satan said and handed him a card.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Prototype for your Real ID cards,” Satan informed him.  “R&D developed these, they’re great.  You can spy on anyone with these things, locate them all around the globe through satellites, and…” taking the card in his hand and rubbing his finger over a small gold card all of a sudden noise started coming from it.

No, not noise, music.  The US national anthem, at the end of it a voice with a distinctly texan and presidential accent said, “Freedom isn’t Free!”

“Isn’t that great?” Lucifer asked with child like glee twinkling in his eyes.

“Um… yeah,” Chertoff responded, trying to look as enthused as possible when you are standing face to face with the Prince of Darkness.

“Well,” Satan said as we made our way to the door.  “Keep up the good work Cherty!  I’ll be seeing you.”

And we were off to our next stop; Attorney General Alberto Gonzales.

“Oh thank G–” He said when he saw us, only just barely stopping before saying something he would regret for the rest of all eternity.  “Er thank you, Dark Lord.”

“That’s better,” Satan growled.

“Do you have them… sir?” he asked.  His hands were twitching.

“Yeah.”

“Good… I’ll be needing them.  I swear the boss is ready to fire me.  Did you hear?  There’s no way I’m gonna beat this rap.  I’ve lied WAY too much!”

“And yet you intend to keep your job?” Lucifer asked, his voice dripping with disapproval as he handed the leaves of glossy paper over to him.

“With these, yes I do,” Gonzo said as he held one of the photographs Satan had given him.  It depicted Bush, in a dress, sharing a candlelit dinner with a shorn sheep.

“Hmph!” Satan grunted.  He hadn’t been happy with Gonzos performance in a long while.  “Those pictures aren’t easy to come up with, Gonzo, even in Hell.  You better watch your ass, I’m getting sick of covering for you all the damn time!”

“I will, Lord, I will, I promise!”

“And can you be a little more discreet?  Really!  You’re such a dumbass… You know, if I could force you into heaven I would, I don’t want your taint on Hell… You better hope I can work something out with Dad because if I can’t, you’re sharing a room with Hitler just for pissing me off, do you understand?”

“Y-Y-Yes sir…  I’m sorry sir, won’t…”

“Just shut up and go do your blackmail!” Satan ordered and Gonzo hurried off, leaving a trail of urine behind him.

As soon as the Attorney General was out of sight, Satan looked at me and smiled.  “That felt good.”

“Would you really put him in the Hitler room?”

“You think I’m really that mean?”

I just stared at him.

“No, of course not.  The Teletubby room once or twice maybe, but Gonzo doesn’t quite warrant the Hitler Clause.  Now come on, we gotta head over to the Diebold headquarters!”

As we snuck into the Diebold warehouse where they were keeping the new machines they would be employing after the spin-off company took over, Satan explained.  “Diebold’s not really giving up the ghost, just changing some things around.  So I want to do a little ‘maintenance’ to make sure the machines will have all their fun and interesting glitches for the upcoming elections!”

We crept from machine to machine, splicing wires, adding chips here and there until, just as the sun was coming up, we were patching up the last machine.

“There we go,” Satan said with the air of someone obviously pleased with a job well done.  “08 should be a VERY interesting election year!”

From there it was a quick hop around the country to hit up military stocking warehouses.  Laughing and prancing like imps, me and Satan went around stealing all the Purple Hearts we could get our hands on before heading off to quite house in an well to do neighborhood.

Satan knocked on the door.  A groggy blonde man with watery eyes and bad teeth blearily answered the door, “H-hello?”

Satan punched him straight in the face.  “Quit being an asshole, Gibson!”

Likewise, the same fate awaited Judge Pearson, who even after willfully becoming the laughing stock of the community, continued his crucade against people who mishandle sentimental pants.  “Tort reform’s already fucking things up and you’re making it worse, jackass!”

And with that, Satan’s little list of mischief had been completed.  We did stop off at that video store, and after scaring a pimply faced teenager so bad he started pooping Twinkies, we walked out with a complete collection of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD.

I had gotten to see the world for a little bit, and got a DVD set out of the deal.  Sometimes working for Satan is great.  Well until next time, take care of yourselves and be evil!

One Response to “Report From Hell: Topside”

  1. matttbastard says:

    Thanks for both the link and the lol, Kyle. ;-)

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