Just a collection of various stories I began with no intention to finish, or answers to writing prompts. Enjoy! Please visit my author page on FB! Also note, some of these may be removed later if I feel the urge to expand on them!


39. The Devil's Advocate


          The Devil was a kind man, contrary to popular belief. He didn't necessarily chose to be the Prince of Darkness, but he did his job well, welcoming all those damned to his kingdom. It was hot a humid a lot of the time, but he made the best of it, even raising a family with his beloved wife Lilith. The two raised their devilish children, their lullabies the screams of the damned in the night. It wasn't the most pleasant of places, but it was home.
          Beelzebub, as he preferred to be called, spent his day welcoming new subjects to him realm, often mutilated from fights they had gotten into that resulted in their deaths. Others were simply money grubbing old men and women that died without a feeling of humanity in their hearts. Oddly enough, a vast majority of them were computer programmers and IT specialists, so as a result, Hell had quite a bit of upgrades.
          Why they were here, he wasn't sure. He didn't make the rules of the universe.
          And thank God he didn't, he mused, turning on his massive plasma screen to watch the afternoon torture sessions.
          "Uncle, it's so hot. Do you ever use air conditioning?"
          Beelzebub turned around in his favorite chair, his hand clasped around a nice cold Miller Lite, to come face to face with his exceptionally annoying nephew the Messiah. Though he loved him (he had to, for the boy was his nephew), he could be quite a whiner when it came down to it.
          "I've told you at least thirty times, Jesus," the older man said calmly, "Hell doesn't have air conditioning. You just have to get used to it."
          It came to pass that God had become very busy of late with all the suicide bombings in Israel, so the Prince of Darkness had been forced to watch His only son while the great creator took care of the victims. The Prince of Darkness didn't necessarily mind watching his nephew, but every once in a while his spoiled nature would get to Beelzebub and he would be forced to make him sit in the corner, during which, Jesus Christ tended to put up quite a bit of a fuss.
          "But I didn't do anything!" the Messiah would whine.
          "Just sit there for a while and be quiet. I have to bring Abaddon to the dentist. He seems to have a fang sprouting a little early."
          Today, however, Jesus seemed to have taken a liking to Asmodeus's bicycle and wanted to take it for a ride around the block to the shrunken head store at the corner. Initially, Beelzebub had refused, but after the boy nearly threw a fit, he allowed it as long as the Messiah wore his helmet.
          After a bit of adjusting and whining on Jesus' part, he was off.
          It was quiet for a good twenty minutes until a crash and a loud whine began to erupt from outside. The Devil rushed out to see what had happened and found Jesus had wrecked his other son's bicycle. He was furious, but he knew hitting the child would not be a good idea. Instead, he helped Jesus up, despite his rage-filled words, blaming the bicycle for his injury, and set him down on the couch inside. Tears streamed from his dirty cheeks and only stopped when Uncle Beelzebub gave him a Popsicle.
          "What am I going to do with you, Jesus Christ?" he asked, frowning at the boy.
          "Get me a bicycle like Asmodeus!" he exclaimed, all sense of pain forgotten.
          "But, you just fell off of that one! Why do you want another?" the Prince of Darkness asked, perplexed.
          "Because it's fun!"
          "You know of course I will have to ask your Father to get you one," he explained.
          "But I want one now!" Jesus persisted.
          "You know I can't get you one right now," the Devil explained. "I'll have to see what comes in tomorrow with the next crowd. Perhaps one will have a bicycle."
          "No, now!" Jesus whined.
          "Oh you spoiled child," Beelzebub sighed.
          "Fine, if you won't give me a bicycle, I will make a religion to oppose you!"
          The Devil blinked at this suggestion. "Why would you do that?"
          "I will make people hate you!" Jesus said with a grin. "They will blame everything bad on you!"
          The Devil sighed. "Let's not be too hasty."
          But it was too late. Jesus had made up his mind. With a look of determination on his face he stood up and headed for the elevator. This was a might convenience for the Devil. He used it to visit with his brother, God, on occasion and it made for easy access so they wouldn't have to trek the miles of backstairs through Purgatory and the lot. The moans of the dead were sometimes unnerving, even for the Prince of Darkness. He stood up to stop his nephew, but decided against it. God would take care of His only son. He hoped.
          A week or so passed, and the Devil heard nothing of his nephew, much to his dismay. He only hoped God had picked him up before he descended to the human realm. If word of this got out, he would lose his business.
          About a month later, though, a few people began to trickle into Hell with odd death reasons. One said he had died when he stabbed someone for supporting abortion. Since when was this normal?
          "God does not want us to kill babies!" the man raged.
          "Then why are you in Hell?" the Devil asked him with a smirk. The man was silent and said nothing as he walked through the flaming gates, which the Devil was quite proud of, if he did say so himself.
          The next few weeks were strange indeed. More and more people were coming through the gates claiming they had died doing God's work. One woman burned the Torah in an effort to show the Bible was the True Word and got caught in the blaze. Another was choked when he tried to assassinate a gay preacher for simply being gay. Was this the work of Jesus?
          As the weeks went on, it became more and more clear that people were dying claiming to be doing God's work. Finally, the Devil had to ask.
          "Who is telling you to do all of this?" he asked a group of people that got run over by cars while picketing against gay marriage during a Pride Parade.
          "Why, Jesus Christ!" they answered in near unison.
          The Devil was stunned. Though he wasn't exactly happy, this couldn't go less according to plan for the Messiah.
          "But I thought you didn't like me," the Devil stated.
          "We don't, and we shouldn't be here! We died doing God's work!" one woman retorted.
          "But you are here, none-the-less," the Devil commented, stamping their entrance slips. "Welcome to Hell, my new subjects!"
          Finally, nearly three months had passed since this strange phenomenon occurred when Jesus paid a visit to his uncle. He had a smile on his face that could raise the dead. It was that triumphant.
          "How do you like my new religion?" he asked his uncle. "I call it Christianity."
          "Well," Beelzebub replied. "Actually, I like it very much. It's gotten me a whole new group of subjects for Bingo nights in the hall!"
          Jesus just blinked at him.

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