The story of a lonesome ol'Jerome
Medium-level Sudoku (or) I love making deals
We followed the silent, frog-like doorman through the labyrinthine halls. Moments later, we took a turn into a large, wood-paneled library. And there, seated in an armchair, was the motherfucking Devil. In appearance, you could have argued he looked like an early middle-aged, human man, but you would have obviously been wrong. Power radiated off of him so intensely, it was tangible around us. And his eyes were strange, though there was no fucking way I was going to stare long enough to figure out exactly what was weird about them. He was… playing medium-level Sudoku. Really? Medium level? The Lord of the Underworld?
The doorman gestured at two seats on the other side of a large, ornate coffee table before turning to leave. Satan glanced up, irritated. “Please get an ashtray for our guest.” Without missing a beat, the doorman procured another crystal ashtray from a side-table drawer, placing it near Z on the coffee table. The Devil set down his book of Sudoku, then nodded at the doorman, dismissing him. “Please, smoke if you’ve got ‘em. I love smoking. And tell me what brings you to my household. I bet it’s interesting. Something different.”
I honestly expected an aura of evil from the being in front of us, but my gut wasn’t getting evil at all. That worried me a bit. Wasn't the Devil supposed to hide his evil and shit? Or was I thinking too classically judeochristian? It wasn't like you got a handbook when you died. I was intimidated, no point in lying to myself, but I also had no idea what Z was planning. If Z was even capable of feeling fear, he was an expert at hiding it. He just lit a cigarette and took a drag before starting.
“So, I haven’t been dead that long, I don’t really fucking know a whole lot about how shit works around here, but I don’t have to know the details. I won’t waste your time, here’s the deal: We have a mutual friend, who’s not dead, that we care about, who’s just started dating some fucking rockstar motherfucker.” The devil chuckled, Z smirked. “Yeah, I know, tell me about it. She’s, eh, you know, like one of those chicks that is really sensitive and shit. The point is that she’s going on tour with this fucker for two weeks. Owen-“ Z pointed at me “- and I want to tail the part of tour she’s on, on the upside, and make sure no shady shit goes down.” Satan’s eyebrows shot up, but I noticed he seemed intrigued. Good?
The Devil leaned back in his chair. “An interesting conundrum, my friends. See, you are both dead. To render you into corporeal form for that long would take the intervention of a very powerful being, wouldn’t it?” He grinned a toothy smile. Hmm, still not evil, just egotistical. “So…I love making deals- are you here to try and make a deal? What are you going to offer me?”
Z took a drag of his cigarette. “Nothing, actually. I’m here to threaten you. If you don’t fucking help us, and give us a car and a full credit card for cigarettes, booze, gas, and places to stay, I’ll stop working at the brothel.” Z’s eyes sparkled crazily, as the Devil froze. “If you want to think about it, go ask your wife, your daughters, get their opinions, I can wait, like, 10 minutes. Starting now.”
Satan didn’t move, just scowled, thinking. Z took another drag of his cigarette and checked his cell phone’s clock. I wondered if there was anything with balls bigger than a blue whale- Z surely had those.
Maybe ten seconds, realistically, had passed, when I heard a new voice call from the side of the room. “HUSBAND! A word? Now!”
QOTD: Who do you think was calling from the side of the room?
(i can't answer this one, sowwee)
holy shit 150 chapters!!!!!