Saturday, August 25, 2007

Hell is a Real Place (p4)

Part 3

"I'm still not convinced that I'm not still passed out on the street. It seems the simplest explanation." John reasoned.

"Just because the simplest explanation is usually the correct one doesn't mean that a more complicated one isn't actually the case. In fact, in hell it's usually the more complex explanation that's true."

"So Occam's razor doesn't hold in hell?" John asked with surprising lucidity for a drunk man.

"We have plenty of razors in hell, but none of them make life any simpler, I'm afraid."

"You call this life?"

"Life. Eternal damnation. Whatever."

"Well, this is certainly new. I suppose I *should* be heading home. Things to do and such. My name's John, by the way." He introduced himself merely to feign the politeness that comes with leaving a party early before all the presents are opened.

"Pleasure to meet you John." the imp said while wistfully grinning in a disturbing manner as if appraising his new acquaintance. "My name's Urakabarameel Rathael Mirzvon Chaotzacoatl."

"Okay. That's interesting. How's that spelled?"

"Not important." he answered while rolling his tiny imp eyes.

"Is there something else..."

"Look, if pronunciation's a problem for you, like I know it is for some of the duller mortals, you can just call me Baram. That's what's all my friends call me."

"Demons have friends?"

"No. And strictly speaking, I'm not a demon." Baram replied indignantly.

"What are you then?"

"I really don't feel comfortable talking about it with someone younger than dirt, kid."

"Fair enough I suppose. Can you just get me outta here, then?"

"'Fraid it's not that easy, you see. That fellow you followed in was special. He's a favored servant of Astaroth, who happens to be the grand duke these parts of hell. He has special dispensation to leave when it suits his master's needs. I have no such special dispensation. In fact, even if I needed to leave, they wouldn't let me."

"Hmm. Well, I suppose if you could just leave any time you pleased it wouldn't be hell." John reasoned.

"Right. I'm stuck here as punishment. Hell is other demons."

"Wait, if you're not exactly a demon, and you're trapped here as a punishment, wouldn't that make you a mortal just like me, only dead?"

"Do I _look_ like a mortal to you kid? Wings? Horns? Eight inch body?" Baram spat insultedly.

"Part of your punishment, maybe?" John hazarded.

"Well, actually my form is part of my punishment. I used to be very tall, thousands of years ago, yesterday. But still, I'm not a human. I am a devil."

"I thought you said that 'strictly speaking'..." John started confusedly.

"I said that I wasn't a _demon_. And I'm not. They're the lower class. Those you see in menial tasks, rending flesh, gargling souls, scorching the damned, pissing lava in the mouths of the thirsty. That sort of thing. I'm much nobler than that. At least I was. Now, I don't really do anything." Baram trailed off dejectedly.


"So, I'm not a demon and I'm definitely not a human. If you must classify me, devil will work, as that can refer to my class."

"Which is?"

"I said that I didn't want to talk about it. Why so curious, meatlocker?"

"Just trying to figure out why you're even talking to me and why no one even seems to notice me."

"I've got nothing better to do, and I think even a human would be better to talk to than a demon. The upper echelons won't speak to me as an outcast and most of my brethren were punished far worse than I. I suspect that the demons don't see you because you're not dead, so you're not really a concern to them. At least not yet." Baram grinned.

"That's a comforting thought." John choked up.

"Don't worry, kid. You won't end up _here_." Baram said reassuringly.

"Oh. That's good to hear." John said, relieved.

"No it's not. What I meant was that you'll likely end up in a much worse part of hell than this. This is practically the Paris of hell. Actually, it's a little better than Paris: there aren't many French in this outer part of hell."

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