I know, I know. Just the title gets me all riled up. Stupid dating websites, they never work. I use up one of my limited hell-leavings and it’s wasted on her.
Yes, I am limited to hell. Apparently I wreak havoc every time I get out. Lucifer takes care of our dealings with the outside world most of the time, and I stay behind to make sure we don’t get any escapees.
On the escapees: we caught the group that got out a few days ago. They were frantic and absolutely terrified of my flame thrower. I love that thing. Anyways, I’m not even sure where the idiots think they can run too. We’re surrounded by a black hole of epic proportions and life and heaven are so far away. In fact, Life is a ways past “It’s Too Late” and Heaven’s right around “Forget About It.” Even the walk to the check in counter in the waiting room takes forever. No, I just lied. I tend to do that sometimes. I’ll be down here for forever and I’ve been down here for eternity already: I’ve already made the journey hundreds of times.
Anyway, to get to the cute little coffee shop where I met the angel - I took little portal I made.
So there she was, sitting across from me and very bitter about the whole affair. It was going downhill before she even opened her mouth.
“So what is your name again?”
“Angelica. What do you do? What’s your job?”
“I make sure that souls don’t escape from my country and I manage my workers who sort them where they go.”
“Where’s your country?”
I proceeded to get lecture after lecture at this point about how I was a sinner. If I even believed in sins, of course I would be. I own the place where her big man sends the souls he doesn’t like because they’ve sinned really bad.
“You’re the one who caused all those poor women to be hung in Salem! You captured their souls and they’re now rotting in hell!”
“You can’t rot in hell. It’s too darn hot. And those poor young women evaded me their entire lives, and they weren’t evading me exactly. My brother, Lucifer, had the men who had the executed in his pocket since the men were tots.”
“If you care about blasphemy, then I’m the biggest darn blasphemer there is, deal with it.”
There was another half hour or so of lecturing and she scared our pretty waitress away. That waitress was gorgeous. A date with her would have been better that a date with this white wonder any day. Yes: I said white wonder. That Angelica was getting brighter and brighter and whiter and whiter as her temper rose.
“Blasphemer!” she said for what had had to be the eight hundredth time, and I was done.
I’d gathered up a ball of hellfire© and launched it at her face, conjured a portal and disappeared before she’d even realized what had happened.
I hope I singed her hair.
Well, that was my not quite so eventful weekend. How was yours?