TITLE: Lucifer’s Porsche
GENRE: Urban fantasy
Thousands of doomed souls shuffled before him in a chained off queue. Every four meters, a sign flashed the estimated time remaining until one reached the torture devices. Anticipation fed the terror. So did bats. One swooped down to gouge a cheek. The Damned who witnessed the carnage recoiled with yelps. What did they expect? Hell was hell. Satan used to love that line. Now, well…
He flicked a talon at the next soul in line, which bore the curved form of a human female. She cowered, head darting in search of escape. A first timer.
Satan inhaled her salty, warm aura. “If you can spell ‘Mephistopheles,’ I’ll give you a pass this round.” Tough luck if the language she’d spoken on outer-Earth had been character-based.
Hope flashed in her eyes. She straightened up. “M E P H I S T O P H E L E S.”
Satan summoned an oily assistant demon. “Escort her to the elbow twister.”
Her knees faltered. “But I spelled it correctly.”
Satan rolled his head, working out a neck kink. He pointed to a neon sign that hadn’t been there a moment earlier,
NO EXCEPTIONS, NO EXCUSES
(AND NO ONE LYKES A GOOD SPELLER.)
She shrieked as the demon dragged her away. Crybaby.
Satan squinted at the endless queue, not an amusing soul in the bunch. Couldn’t they see he was suffering here?