Sunday 22 November 2015

Improving Hell - a short story

The period between October 2006 and October 2010 was very busy for me. I was studying journalism and then linguistics in Southampton, UK (the starting point of Titanic's only journey), and working at a busy Estates & Facilities Office at uni, doing all sorts of arduous admin tasks. Between my assignments, articles on hybrid cars and work, I barely had time for anything else. I had no support from family, no one familiar around and plenty of bills to pay. Any fun writing had to go and hide deep under the carpet. 



However, sometimes it crept up behind me and smacked me on the back of my head. That was when I had an urge to whip up a quick short story, a one-pager, anything, really, just to get it out of my system. And those long, extremely busy four years left me with some quickly drawn shorties that were miraculously spared deletion when my laptop refused to cooperate a couple of years ago.



Below I'm posting one, just for a quick, cheap entertainment of those five people who made it to this point of the post. I hope you like it.

IMPROVING HELL


The Devil himself looked at Jack and raised his eyebrows. His long, strong tail was hitting the floor, making annoying sound of something being whipped in silence. He folded his arms on his chest; this was never a good sign. But, come to think of it, nothing the Devil did was a good sign. After all, he was evil.


‘Look, I’m just saying you could improve a few things here. You know, to make it worse. So please, don’t pull this face at me…’

The Devil rolled his eyes and looked even scarier than usual.

‘I mean, you certainly have… people skills, let me put it that way, but you’re lacking good management here…’

The Devil moved his body weight from right foot to his left one. Looking closely, one could see a bit of smoke coming out of his ears. Of course, nobody would look closely at the Devil, so smoke remained unnoticed.

‘Like that time you let God beat you in some stupid battle… I’m absolutely sure that it was only down to a bad-’

‘Enough!’ the Devil shouted, interrupting Jack. The smoke was now becoming a pure essence of fire. Even the Devil’s nails started sparkling red and his fangs shone more than ever. 

‘Man, you really pissed the boss off,’ said a demon standing behind Jack. His ugly face was right next to Jack’s and demon’s bad breath almost made Jack fall. And, of course, there was the smell of marihuana. Jack tried it, but passed out and that’s never a good idea when you’re in Hell. Next day he woke up with a headache and his trousers stolen. ‘Never, ever mention that battle to the boss. It makes him feel like a loser.’

‘Well, he did lose…’ Jack whispered, trying to refrain from breathing. Not that he had to breathe. When you’re dead you don’t have to do such things, but also, when you’re dead, you like sticking to old habits. It helped Jack to remain normal in Hell, despite the lack of traditional toilets.


‘I said: enough!’

The Devil was burning brightly now, hardly visible from behind the cloud of smoke. Jack was slowly getting stoned.

‘Errr…,’ he said.

The Devil stopped and smelled the air.

‘The heck with it,’ he mumbled and reached into his burning pocket, taking out something black and wrinkled. He winked and it disappeared with a quiet “ping”. Jack felt slightly better.

‘Ok, now I am seriously angry with you, you little bastard. You have wasted my time, you have wasted my patience and now you have wasted my… latest purchase. Argoragh, take him away from me and keep him there.’

The demon grabbed Jack’s shoulder and turned him right towards the exit.

‘But-’ Jack started, but demon hushed him quickly.

‘Don’t push it, man.’

‘But-,’ Jack tried again.

‘Seriously, dude…’

‘But-’

‘Wait!’ the Devil cried suddenly. ‘Hold on… What’s your name again?’

‘Jack,’ said Jack.

‘And you were a lawyer…? Politician? Member of the Big Brother House?’

‘Human Resources Manager,’ Jack answered proudly, capital letters falling heavily into their places. He used to love his job.

‘Aye. Slightly surprising, though… Only lawyers, politicians and fake celebrities manage three “buts” in a row. Why did you want to see me?’

‘I wanted to introduce to you my project of improving Hell,’ Jack knew he was being patient.

‘Improving Hell?’ the Devil raised his eyebrows once again, but this time out of curiosity. He’d always been good at facial expressions.


‘Yes. I have prepared this graph here, illustrating the new organisational order. We could all be based on the rota system…’

‘Very interesting… We shall talk about it some other time. Now, I have an important meeting to attend. Arogargh, take Jack here back to the dungeons. I will speak to him later.’

            The Devil sighed when Jack and Arogargh left, thinking he was getting softer these days. The little man was quite amusing, though…

            He walked right to the wall and opened his wardrobe. It was hard to control his temper sometimes. Only this week he’d managed to burn six suits already and it was only Wednesday. But he couldn’t help himself, especially when people told him that God beat him. If they only knew…! 

He grabbed another set of clothes and the wardrobe door swung back. He looked at the perfect blackness of the material, and, satisfied, he transformed quickly: his tail disappeared, as if his backside sucked it in; his fangs grew smaller and fitted nicely behind his now pinkish lips; his talons shortened, losing their sharpness. The Devil, now in a human shape, put on the suit along with a tie and perfectly shiny shoes, and opened the door, hidden in the chamber’s wall. He walked into his private office, carefully closing the invisible gate, and sat comfortably behind his wide desk. Soon after he heard the long expected knock.

‘Come in, please,’ he answered calmly. The other door opened and a tall man, dressed in an army uniform, entered the room, and decisively walked through the red carpet, stopping at the desk.

‘Mr President.’

‘General Russell.’

‘Our troops have arrived, Mr President. We will attack tomorrow.’

‘Good,’ said the Devil and smiled. ‘Thank you. You may leave now, general.’

The man was at the door when the Devil stopped him.

‘One more thing, general. Do me a favour and tell my secretary to get me some more of these.’

            The Devil opened the drawer, took out the black, wrinkled object, and threw it to the man. The general caught it and looked at it: it was a half-burnt pack of the finest imported cigars.

‘Of course, Mr President.’

‘Thank you,’ the Devil replied, watching the human leaving his office.

            He then thought of Jack. Improving Hell? But it was perfect!

19th June 2007


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