Stiltskin (Andrew Buckley) (45 page)

But no one heard him. They were all too busy laughing.

In many ways, he was wrong. Global public nudity would be amusing, somewhat entertaining, and probably really disgusting, not to mention completely absurd. Aliens did not build the pyramids. Slaves built the pyramids while under the overpowering influence of large men holding even larger whips. But on certain points he was absolutely correct. Had anyone bothered to listen to his theory about the devil, the dead not dying, Santa Claus, his elves, and a penguin, they would have eventually found out that he was right on the money.

here were deals, and then there were deals. And this was a deal. The signature sat, burning comfortably, on the dotted line. Then, while the Prince of Darkness gleefully packed his clothes, the document was on its way to the administration office via the Underworld Postal System for filing. He didn't really like the demons in the administration office; they were low even by his standards.

Decisions, decisions
.
Whether to take the blue underwear or the orange?

It had been so long since he'd been allowed to get away from it all and really commit to some good old-fashioned deceiving. And to walk on the Earth again, that would be truly fabulous. The last time he’d possessed a body must have been at least three thousand years ago. Reflectively, though, he really hadn't had the best of luck with possessing people.

He shuddered as he packed his knitted doilies and remembered the whole Adam and Eve fiasco. That had been his first real possession. He’d been aiming for Eve but missed by a few feet and ended up in that stupid snake. He'd had to slither round for a good few hours before he got the hang of how to move, and then had to deal with the constant compulsion to eat eggs. It almost wasn't worth the hassle. Everything turned out okay in the end, introducing sin to the Earth and all, but he'd found the whole episode a rather trying ordeal.

No matter how many times he steeped in a bubble bath, it still took him weeks to shake that slimy, scaly feeling.

The Devil looked in a mirror and stared at the grim, distorted figure before him.
Sad
.
I really have to start getting more sleep
. Maybe he'd take up a relaxation program when he got back from the Earth, something to improve his quality of life. Tai Chi: that's what he'd do. He'd go down to the dungeons and find some ancient Chinese souls who could teach him Tai Chi. After he'd tortured them for a while.

I'm forgetting something
. The Devil picked up his going-away checklist and a pen.

-Pack clothes
…
check!

-Clean bathroom
…
check!

-Turn off coffee maker
…
check!

-Send Deal made with God stating Devil may walk the Earth for One Week document down to the administration department
…
check!

-Give bone-chilling speech to the new arrivals
…
check!

-Leave instructions with one of the demons on how to feed the fish
…

That’s it. He'd forgotten about his fish, Percy. The Devil walked out of his apartment onto the high rocky precipice that served as a sort of porch and looked down at his rather overly warm kingdom.

Demons wandered hither and thither, dragging tortured souls around with them. The Devil grimaced; it was so hot down here, and it wasn't even a nice dry heat, the humidity was unbearable. Soon enough, he'd be able to breathe the lovely fresh air that the human race so easily took for granted. The thought cooled him ever so slightly, and a small cloud of steam rose from his body. He stretched out his black, tattered, leathery wings and shouted out over the cavernous kingdom, his dark voice bouncing off the jagged rocks.

"Listen to me, all you inhabitants of Hell. For those of you who are new, there will be a public flaying of lawyers at six tonight. Make sure you bring something for the potluck dinner or you will not be allowed to enjoy the festivities. And if anyone's seen Azeal, could they please tell him I'd like to see him immediately in my quarters? That is all!"

The Devil re-folded his wings and stalked back into his home. He playfully tapped on the fishbowl where Percy the goldfish swam happily around without a care in the world, except that he could never understand why his water always stayed so warm.

There came a sharp rap at the door, to which the door grimly responded by swinging open to reveal a short, stumpy, egg-shaped demon with only one leg and half a wing. Even his horns looked like something created by using a toilet paper roll and lots of sticky tape. His yellowy-green eyes darted suspiciously around the room.

"Ahh, Azeal, do come in," motioned the Devil as he made kissy faces at Percy, who felt somewhat confused as to why this large, ugly, black mass kept making faces at him.

Azeal hopped in, started to lose his balance, flapped furiously with his half a wing in order to straighten himself and then proceeded to fall over. The Devil shook his head sadly and made a
tsk tsk
kind of sound with his forked tongue.

"I really have no idea how you ever survived through the Crusades. Maybe survived is a bit of a strong word. You did lose your leg and the vast majority of your wingspan."

Azeal, not possessing the ability to speak, simply made a rude noise and pushed himself back up on his one leg.

"Now listen carefully, Azeal. Percy is very special to me, and if you should accidentally kill him, I'll have you flogged 'til the rest of your wing falls off. Understood?"

Azeal burped loudly and grinned a maliciously stupid grin.

The Devil rolled his eyes.

"His feeding instructions are next to his bowl, along with his food. I'll be back in a week. If any pressing matters arise, the Second Coming, that kind of thing, you'll be able to reach me on my cell. Got it?"

Azeal farted and left it at that.

"Good," said the Devil. It suddenly became very clear to him that the clock on the wall was trying to tell him something.

"Oh my, is that the time? I'll be late." And with a great flapping of wings he ranout the door, knocking Azeal over in the process. The Devil popped his head back through the doorway.

"Azeal, did I mention that I'd have you flogged if you messed up?"

Azeal jumped to his foot and bounced up and down a couple of times while making distressed choking noises.

"Good." The Devil grabbed his suitcase and took off at a sprint.

The Gates of Hell looked dark as ever as the Devil ran up to them. The excitement was really getting to him and he could hardly stop himself hopping from one foot to the other.

One of the two large guards at the gates of Hell stepped up to the Devil.

"Pass, please."

"What?" said the Devil, brimming over with disbelief.

"I said pass, please. Bit deaf, are you?" replied the guard.

Fire began to burn in the Devil's eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

The other guard suddenly came running forward and pushed the first guard back. "I'm so sorry, boss," said the second demon guard. "You see, that's Stan, he's new here. Won't happen again."

The Devil raised himself up to his full height and spread his wings in a terrifying arc. Then he folded them up again and burst out in a fit of laughter.

"I really can't be mad at you today. Going to Earth, you see, approved by God Himself. Ha! Idiot. Do be a good boy and let me out."

The two demons pulled open the unbelievably large, iron gates to reveal a long line of people waiting to get in. Part of Hell's policy clearly stated that everyone had to stand in line for at least five years before entering.

These pitiful fools, and they thought standing in line at the supermarket was bad.
The Devil grinned an evil grin and sprinted off toward the end of the line, which disappeared into a set of double doors marked with a large pink neon sign that said
Exit
. And then underneath, in smaller, less bright neon letters:
Fat chance
.

The Devil ran through the doors without a care for the poor dead people on either side of him.

"Move it, coming through, get out of the way you insolent fools!"

The way out of Hell was a little more difficult than getting in. Getting in required that a person be ignorant, redundant, or evil, and preferably dead, or so unbelievably cursed by God that there wouldn't ever be a chance of being redeemed. The Devil's situation was that of the latter. But by the recent agreement with God Himself, the Devil had been granted a temporary pass to get out of the Fiery Inferno and walk around for a whole week. During which he would wreak unspeakable havoc and attempt to add to the growing line of people waiting to get into Hell.

The passage into the world consisted of a long, dark tunnel that stretched endlessly up into seemingly nothingness. People generally fell down the tunnel. It was an extremely rare occasion that anyone went back up it. However, the Devil had done this before; he knew the drill.

He unfurled his dark wings and prepared for the flight up. Oh, he couldn't wait to see the body he would possess. He'd had a nice one picked out for quite a while now, a reclusive millionaire, young and healthy. The contract stated that he would have to inhabit a body the moment he reached the Earth, and the Devil knew it was just a matter of throwing himself into the right person. He flapped his wings, kicking up dust and debris, focused, then prepared for takeoff. He was pumped. He was ready. And so it came as a complete surprise at that point when a three-hundred-pound man in a white vest and boxer shorts with little hearts on them fell from the tunnel above and landed on the Devil's face.

The fat gentleman got to his feet. "Bloody hell! Where am I?"

The Devil arose from the ground and folded his arms.

"Well, you're dead, aren't you? And I'm assuming that in life you were somewhat of an asshole and consequently, here you are. Torture for eternity," the Devil pointed a long, bony finger toward the end of the line, "that way!"

The fat man, somewhat confused, replied, "Uhh, yeah, thanks," and waddled off toward the line.

The Devil shook his head, unfurled his wings once again, and with a great big flap worthy of an American Bald Eagle, flew up the portal. Everything always went a bit blurry
around
this part; going from one reality to the next was never easy. It always gave him the kind of feeling that his insides were turning outside. The Devil loved the feeling. And as he rose higher and higher, going faster and faster, heading for the end of the tunnel, he smiled at how easy he'd found it to strike such a simple deal that would allow him to take human form and destroy lives.

The end of the tunnel was nigh as he rushed toward a bright blue light. Then, nothing but frantic oblivion. All was dark.

The Devil opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
Ahh, fresh air
. It would appear he was on the floor. He tried to stand up but, as he did so, he didn't really move all that much higher. What was the problem here? His surroundings were simple: a couch, a TV, a lovely coffee table with some fine bone china.