as he came down on top of her skull, elbows first. She was driven down. First her ankles gave way, and then her knees slammed into the canvas and her body kept moving straight down and she fell forwards. Sticking out her arms she managed to stop herself from smacking into the mat face-first. Shaking her head to clear it, she staggered to her feet and Michael grabbed her shoulder, locked her arm and hyper-extended her elbow, flinging her into the ropes, chest-first. She bounced off of them and staggered backwards at high speed, right into Michael’s outstretched arm.
“Clothesline!” he screamed as Mary caught his bicep in the back of her neck and went down face-first.
Michael watched to see if she would get up, circling her one way and then the other, pumping his biceps, flexing his hands, pushing breath out of his mighty lungs as he super-oxygenated his blood, making his heart pound. Mary had her back to him as she grabbed the ropes with her two pencil-thin arms and hauled herself to her feet again. That gave Michael an opportunity to grab her ears and pull her over his head, smashing her into the ground again.
“This can’t possibly get any worse,” Mary thought to herself as she stumbled up once more, her entire body stinging.
It got worse.
Michael put the Bionic Elbow Drop on her, he bounced her off the ropes, he gave her Knee Bombs and Strangle Throws. Nerve Stabs and Neck Crushers. Body slams and Head Mashers.
“It’s okay,” Mary thought as she flew threw the air yet again, tumbling head over heels at a shocking velocity. “I can’t die. I’ll just cease to exist for a little while. That’ll be nice, actually. Just to stop existing and rest. I’m looking forward to it.”
She hit the mat and bounced twice.
“Well, you look like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag,” Ted Hunter said as he strode into the bedroom, tying the belt of his robe. “That’ll be all, honey,” he said to his exfoliation technician as he showed her the door.
Frita Babbit sat on the bed, absorbed in a Doris Dalton Line and Crease Diffuser that was a Value of the Day item. She didn’t even notice Satan in the room with her anymore.
“For a woman who was ritually abused in my name she doesn’t seem too concerned to be near me,” Satan said.
“She’s had her pills,” Ted Hunter replied.
“Come on, Ted,” Satan said. “It’s just us now. The cameras are all off. You’ve already won. Who is she? An actress? Someone you planted a long time ago? A musical theater triple threat from Minnesota with a diet pill addiction?”
Ted Hunter grinned and poured himself some minibar Scotch.
“She’s just some random damaged goods that I came across while traveling through Terre Haute, Indiana,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have guessed Indiana.”
“Sure, sure. That state’s nothing but walking daddy issues doped up to the gills on Klonopin. It took me all of thirty minutes to convince her that she had been terribly abused by Satan as a child. But, then again, I think we all feel that way to some extent. You are Satan, after all. You screw everyone up.”
“That’s probably true,” Satan said.
“You’ve come here to threaten me, I assume,” Ted Hunter said, settling down on the love seat. “Tell me all the awful things you’ll do to me if I don’t settle the suit.”
“No,” Satan said. “I’ve come here to ask you to drop your claim.”
Ted couldn’t help himself. He threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“You think I’ll do anything for you after I’ve already got you by the nuts?” Ted Hunter said. “You are an even bigger fool than I thought.”
“Please,” Satan said. “I’m immortal. Hell is eternal. You don’t know what kind of forces you’re unleashing by enforcing this judgment. I’m asking you to let it go.”
“Here’s your Oscar, Ms. Spacek,” Ted Hunter said. “I’m a business man. I look at this deal and I don’t see a single reason to drop it.”
“You’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to collect money we don’t have,” Satan said.
“Exactly,” Ted Hunter said. “You won’t be able to pay, so you’ll be ordered to work out a binding settlement. They’re going to look at your assets and there’s really only one of them: Hell.”
“You want to own Hell?” Satan asked.
“Real estate deal of the century,” Ted Hunter said. “And you know what they say about real estate? They just don’t make it anymore.”
He