This week’s element: Fire
Today’s word: Sizzling
It was an ordinary day in Hell, the barbeque was sizzling as it did around the clock and the lost souls all looked on hungrily as one after another a friend was pushed onto the plate to dance a little for the master’s entertainment.
It was St Lucifer’s Day, and all in Hell were expected to do their bit to celebrate the occasion.
Lucifer for his part relished the event, one he invented for himself as he reasoned if those upstairs could celebrate any one who claimed to be good in their lifetime, a saint hood, then why not a version for himself.
And so St Lucifer’s Day became an annual event which as it turned out was a good thing, though Lucifer was not all that keen about anything that constituted a ‘good thing’.
It was a good thing because it broke the endless monotony of existence in Hell.
On first arriving in the land down stairs you were offered a choice of where you would like to go. If you chose well then your Hell was in a certain sense manageable. If not then your Hell was as the name suggested, a living Hell.
Street cleaning on Tuesdays was always a popular choice. When you thought about it, each side of Tuesday were days where you obviously wouldn’t have to do anything. The catch, like so much in Hell, was in the fine detail.
On every street, you were assigned to clean there was a huge calendar with Tuesday clearly marked.
You started work in the early morning, and as it was Hell and you didn’t need any breaks, such as toilet breaks or lunch breaks, you worked until a bell went off indicting the end of your workday.
Just as you were about to down your tools and head off for a well-earned rest, another bell would ring to indicate the start of the next days cleaning. The calendar would clearly say Tuesday, and the whole process would be off and running again.
That was what made it Hell, the endless repetition, no matter what job you secured you soon realised it went on and on.
Every few weeks there would be a rest period where you could visit the one and only café, Hell’s Kitchen, which sold the best sushi anywhere in eternity. But sushi was all it sold, and every soul was grateful it was of a superior kind.
So as St Lucifer’s Day drew to a conclusion and the barbeque dancing came to and end with the final soul sizzling a bit longer than he would have liked to, Lucifer thanked one and all and hoped to see them all back the next year if not forever. Lucifer said this every year, and it was his only attempt at humour, as he quickly pointed out forever was a heck of a long time.
On the sizzling plate, the last hamburger slowly burnt itself to a crisp much to the disappointment of the dancers who felt their pangs of hunger but knew despite the contribution they made to the celebration, that such tastiness would always be denied them.
Each returned to their individual hell and resumed their repetitious existence. At least there they knew what to expect.