Armegeddon It!Submitted by DaBeast at 2011-01-27 15:00:15 EST
Rating: 2.0 on 20 ratings (20 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
The are lots of rules in Hell. As above, so below and that nonsense. If you cater to a human clientele, you must decorate accordingly. Lions aren't nearly so fussy.
"Pity," I murmured as I ran my eyes over the contours of Australia. "Things would be simpler."
"Lord?" questioned a youthful voice.
I re focused on the screen and brought the reflection of the room into focus. "Al, you look all of eighteen," I turned and moved back to my desk, "beardless puppy. What possessed you?"
"Well, there's this new chippie manning the phones..." His voice trailed off, replaced with a smile of guilelessness and joy.
I laughed. "Her name's Matilda and you're not to touch her. I go through help less quickly when you leave them alone." I pushed the cheap office chair aside and fell into it. "I mean it."
"Of course you do," he spread his hands to indicate our surroundings, "because we all know what glory it is to work in such opulence."
The bookshelf in the corner would take just that second to give vent to a loud 'CRACK' and topple sideways until it leaned, drunkenly against the far wall.
"Damn it!" I glared at the remains. "I'll never let that damned man build another fucking thing for me."
Al couldn't contain his grin but it was tinged with disbelief. "What man?"
"Jewish carpenter," I spat, "cheap rates indeed. Fucking crook. I don't care what his kid was named." I jerked my gaze away and settled it on Al. "What are you doing here anyway? Is Schenectady too much for you?"
He shook his head and put his hands behind his back. "No, no, no. The granny fetishists and Amish groupies are wonderful. They keep me and the boys busy. They started a black market for glass dildos. You should come check out the next Satanists' meeting." He leaned forward, turned his head and spoke out of the side of his mouth in a hoarse whisper, "I hear there'll be carrot cake. Maybe danishes."
"Made by the Amish?" I couldn't keep the touch of wistfulness out of my voice. Say whatever you like but those little women could cook.
Al grinned. "Especially for you, too."
"Ack," I grimaced, "they'll make it with bat's blood, no doubt. Damn it. Back to the Baptist's pot roasts, then." I narrowed my eyes. "That still doesn't tell me why you're here, Al."
He looked down at his powder blue cuffs and adjusted them. "Well, I've been talking to Bub and Lil and some of the others." His voice stopped. The expression on his face was one of genial malice.
"I am neither a dentist, Al," I made a negligent gesture toward the piles of papers covering the desk, "nor a clockmaker. Don't make me pull teeth; I haven't the time. Spit it and quit it."
Al's expression flickered briefly. "There's no plan for 2012." He met my eyes with militant starched across the thin line of his lips.
"Jesus Fuck!" I stood up and rounded the desk to loom over him. "This ain't a fucking democracy, Al. You stick to tickling Tesla's coils and I'll stick with running this hole. My plans are my own!"
Again, his face underwent flicker transformation before he pushed it up toward mine, and I could see Valkyrie flames burning bright in his muddy eyes. "Those plans involve us all."
"How so?" I was honestly curious.
He jerked away. "Don't play me. Armageddon concerns us all."
"Is that what..." I felt my lips twitch once, twice... and I was lost in unadulterated laughter. "Oy, that's good." I think I felt a rib break but I kept laughing anyway to drive an already driven nail all the way home.
Al took a good five minutes of it before he stepped up and grabbed my arm. "Enough."
"Never," I sighed and smiled at him, "but that's another subject. If Armageddon were in the offing, then you would be consulted. On that, you are correct." I brushed his hand from my arm and watched his face.
Al stepped away. "What are you...?"
"Enough," I slashed my hand through the air, "you will be briefed before time. Any more, you need not know. Go." I moved back to the desk, sat down and grabbed the topmost sheaf of papers. "Send Matilda in on your way out."
For a second, I wondered if he'd move but, finally, he left. The wall vibrated solidly from the force of his departure.
Matilda moued her pretty Cupid's bow lips as she twisted into view. Her skirt was so tight, she couldn't move both legs at the same time. Gorgeous ass, long red hair, dreamling turquoise eyes and 'Viola!' you have Al bait. I smiled at her and heard Glenn Miller in my thoughts. "Beautiful, Matilda, I am mad for you. Please send Mrs. Brighton-Cummings in to see me and then go make yourself even more beautiful while manning the front desk. That's a love." Oh, I loathed to see her depart but I loved to watch her walk away.
I was humming 'If she only had a brain...' under my breath as the office door closed on that glorious vista. Oh, the perks are dandy in Hell. It's why I had two secretaries. One was always the face, the other was the brain. One was for show, the other for tell. Oh, but I had lucked out when I had found Mrs. Alexis Brighton-Cummings.
And then the doors opened and the sun shone a glimmer all along the merry curves of my angel. She was tiny and perfect. Short hair the burgundy of old blood shot with streaks of silver along the temple and eyes of a cool blue-grey beneath dark brows. She wore librarian glasses and shoes without heels and sometimes her clothing was a cacophony of color or deep and darkling hues. An all or nothing kind of gal. I was in serious lust. Visions of rulers and garter belts danced a quickstep through my brain.
"Hello, Sir." Mrs. Brighton-Cummings was always perfectly professional and I had it on good authority that she adored the ground her husband tred. Damn it. None are immune their punishments. Fuck anyway.
I lavished her with my eyeballs. "Hello, Alexis." I grinned into her stony glare. "You're looking lovely. Care for some tea?"
"No, sir. We need to discuss business." She was unmoved by my wanton lust. Damn it.
I sighed. "Yes. Do we have time to finish preparations before I need address the masses?" I moved the papers aside, opened the side drawer on the desk, and pushed through the mess until I came up with a battered notebook. I flipped it open and laid it on the desktop.
"I believe so but there are some issues, still..."
I grimaced. "Of course there are issues. When aren't there issues? Ok, let's get to it."
I got my pencil and we went to work.