never got to watch TV when I was working for you. I never got to watch anything. I was always working.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Satan said. “It’ll be different this time, I promise.”
“No it won’t,” Death said. “You aren’t capable of making it different. You keep things the same, all the time.”
“I can change,” Satan said.
“No you can’t.”
“You’re probably right,” Satan admitted. “Won’t you just come to Hell and see what’s going on? Talk to your minions? Get them back on the job. They’re not working.”
“Why?”
“To protest you being fired.”
“Good for them.”
“But the dying are stacking up,” Satan said. “We’re getting backlogged. Already we’re three days behind on mass deaths.”
“Not my problem anymore,” Death said. “Besides, I’m sick of walking. I’ve vowed never to walk again. I spent millennia walking and what did it get me? Fired. That’s what it got me.”
“You didn’t make that vow,” Satan said.
“Oh, yes I did,” Death protested, indignantly.
This had Satan worried. Death was serious about one thing and that was vows. If Death made a vow, Satan knew he was pretty much sticking to it. A vow to never walk again? There was no way he could make him break it. Sure, Death could do a lot online or by phone but he needed him to come to Hell and kick some of his minions in the butt. If Death was refusing to walk there was no way he was ever going to get him down there. Hell wasn’t handicapped accessible.
“You seriously made that vow?” Satan asked.
“I seriously did,” Death said.
Satan sighed.
“I guess there’s no point in further discussion,” Satan said.
Death turned the volume back up. Drew Carey was jumping up and down.
“Thank you for firing me,” Death said as Satan reached the door. “I needed a break.”
Satan didn’t answer. He went out into the hall. He was going to slam the door behind him but then he stopped himself. What was the point? Death wasn’t coming back.
To get to Hell, you have to go to the most depressing place on Earth. Detroit International Airport, Concourse A. Satan and Sister Mary stood outside Terminal Relaxation, the exciting new concept in airport massage spas.
“Airport spas?” Sister Mary asked.
“The one business no one uses,” Satan said, leading her inside. “Ever. That’s why they’re a perfect place to put our escalators to Hell.”
“Namaste,” Natalie, the relaxation technician said as they entered. “If travel’s got you down, try our Swedish Oxygen Therapy. You both look like you could use chair massage. Today the first three minutes are complimentary.”
Satan and Sister Mary ignored her, walked past a rice paper screen from Ikea, and Satan swiped his magnetic card on a reader. The utilitarian door in the back buzzed open and they went through. Natalie watched them go and then went back to her book on acupressure. One day, before she retired, someone would want her to give them a chair massage. One day, a paying customer would come through the doors of Terminal Relaxation. And when that day came she would be ready to give them the best fifteen-minute massage followed by a free Japanese aromatherapy session they had ever received. She knew it. She just had to keep waiting.
They rode the escalators down to Hell for a long time, but not as long as it took to get to Heaven. Hell is always closer than you think. At the bottom they walked through the Gates of Hell and into the vast, rough expanse of Hell’s Vestibule. Satan stopped short and blinked stupidly at the thousands of portable outdoor grills that dotted the endless floor of the cavern. There were grills everywhere, most of them cheap, cut from tin or treated aluminum and giving off rosy glows. He grabbed a demon who was slapping around a confused soul. He thought the demon’s name was probably Samignia. Or maybe Amdusias.
“Why does the Vestibule look like a picnic area?” he asked.
“We thought it’d lend a little ambiance. Minos said it was bad that new souls wouldn’t see our Hellish caverns lit with flickering flames. He said you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.”
“Are people making fun of them?” Satan asked.
“No one’s said anything.”
“All right then,” Satan said. “Good thinking. Tell Minos I said ‘good thinking,’ okay?”
“Okay. You want I should process her?” the demon, who may have been Samignia but who might also have been Amdusias, said, indicating Sister Mary.
“No,” Satan said. “She’s with me.”
They walked away. Samignia/Amdusias turned to the demon Furfur, who had been