by Mike Meyer
“Incoming!” Shouted the junior devil. “It’s a big one, too.”
A large body sailed down from the world above and slid to a stop on the receiving deck.
“Damn, it’s from the White House in Washington D.C. I can’t even remember the last time one arrived direct from there. Were we expecting this?”
The senior devil walked over and took a look.
“I just got word that Trump was choking on his Big Mac. Looks like he was trying to chew, shout, and lie at the same time but it all caught up with him. This will be interesting. I’ll ping the boss. I know he has been looking forward to this.”
Several more junior devils wandered over to take a look.
“Drag him over there out of the way as this dock is hot today. There’s several more in holding pattern waiting to arrive.”
“What the fuck!” Trump said, wiggling around and trying to set up. “Where’s my burger? Who the hell are you guys?”
“Just relax, Mr. Trump. It usually takes a couple minutes for the newly deceased to make the transition from corporeality to the post corporal state.
“I don’t want any of those fake words! It’s all lies and everything I do is perfect!” Trump shouted, waving his arms and making faces.
“I’d like to say you’ll feel better in a minute but that’s not really true. You’ll feel a lot worse, in fact. But that’s the way it is.”
“Where the hell am I? Answer me, I’m the president!” Trump was still struggling to get up off of his back.
“You got it. Hell. Actually this isn’t the primary Hell but the receiving deck for the special hell for seriously evil assholes and politicians, one or the other, but usually both. Welcome!”
“Wait, I didn’t agree to this! Put me back! I was just going to check Fox & Friends! They talk everyday about how brilliant I am.”
“Were, sir. You need to get your tenses right. Brilliance is not a factor here as you’re dead as stump. No going back. Just hang on a minute, though. The Boss is coming up to take a look. He’s been saying he could maybe find a place for you in his special team.”
“Well, at least he recognizes my supreme abilities, but how much do I get?” Trumps asked.
“Nothing much, but it works for us as we will get a bonus for improving the boss’s mood. He might even put you on his personal roasting spit and then we all get a month’s vacation in Las Vegas.” This was accompanied by ‘oohs’ and ‘no, shits’ from the other junior devils.
“He’s been talking about dressing you as a clown but with a diaper for chuckles at his parties. If I were you I would seriously think about that. As long as you are on his entertainment list you don’t get sent to the ovens. And we get a week in Miami for that.
“Stalin, I think, held the record for consecutive years in entertainment, kind of surprising but this is a different place. But then Stalin he got conceited, mouthed off, and got sent to the ovens in regular hell and Mao took over for a while.
Trump finally managed to stand up and was looking around.
“Wait . . . Am I dead?”
“Jesus”, all the devils said shaking their heads.
The great Satan appeared in the air next to Trump. “How many times do I need to tell you guys not to say that? If you call Jesus he might just show up. Winter solstice is Ok because we have lots of guests and it’s traditional, like me going up to heaven for Halloween, but that dude is just too much to put up with any other time!”
“Sorry, Boss. This guy is a little slow for a major asshole.”
“We’ve known that for a long time. But just watch it on the calling Jesus stuff.”
The Great Satan put his arm around Trump’s shoulders. “Now, Mr. Trump, what shall we do with you? You’ve done some thoroughly evil shit even if you are mentally incompetent. I mean, I’m impressed.
“Your the kind of person we can respect for being completely despicable. In a way you could be a real model for evil. That, of course, means you should be sent to the lowest and hottest level of our fine establishment here. I think you would agree that you are exceptional and should wear your eternal misery as a badge of pride. But that would be a waste.”
“Do you have any suggestions for how we should use you? I’m open to special deals for tenants with very high evil rating. We do reward those who try harder.” The Great Satan smiled at Trump expectantly.
Trump was obviously taken back by the Great Satan’s deep and melodious pronouncement. He obviously wanted to smile at the praise but was struggling with the idea of eternal misery as a reward. That just didn’t seem like what he should want.
“I could do classes on rape and being completely abusive. Talking about all the pussies I grabbed and how they begged me to do it, is always popular. Is that the kind of thing you had in mind? I’m really good at lying.”
The Great Satan frowned. “You know, I gave up all of that stuff about 15,000 years ago. I’m looking for something new and different. And, you know, it’s a bit ironic but we don’t lie here. We don’t need to.
“I really don’t want to demean your abilities but you are a pretty small time asshole. You did turn the Unites States of America into a joke but it was well on its way there anyway. I was hoping you would have some hidden abilities that would titillate my executive team. They need some inspiration.
“But we have a little time, you’ve earned that with your evilness. Think about it. Think about it really hard. Just burning with the rest of the riffraff is pretty boring.”
Trump was starting to sweat. It was a little warm.
“Incoming!” The junior devil shouted. “Washington, again.”
A snowy white bundle sailed down and slid across the receiving deck. Mike Pence lay very still with a look even more glazed than usual.
“Pence”, Trump called. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well, pretty much dead, I think.” The Great Satan said and all the young devils chorused agreement.
Pence began a scream that grew in volume as he stared at the Great Satan. “Noooo, I can’t be here! I’m God’s anointed servant! I’m supposed to be president now!”
“Yeah, we get a lot of that from Midwestern folk. That fundamentalist gambit has been one of our biggest successes. We have a whole floor of hell stacked with fundamentalists but they’re definitely not fun, social people. It’s one of the downsides to this job.” The Great Satan took a step back.
Pence, started to cry. “I worked hard to show I believed my whole life and to make everyone else miserable and I end up in hell. My wife will kill me.”
Another chorus of groans and head shaking from the junior devils.
“Not a problem, my man.” The Great Satan said. “Since your already dead you can just relax and burn in misery.” Pence cried louder.
“But, I must say, you’ve also displayed remarkable evil. I really liked how you pushed bigotry and hatred on people who weren’t exactly like you. And all the while saying it was my opponent who demanded it. Nice! You have been on our high performance sales team for a number of years. You, too, have earned your reward!”
“But I wasn’t dead!” Pence shouted. “My wife told me I was going to be blessed.”
“Well”, said the Great Satan. “I don’t think your wife had the same definition of blessed as you. I think you just got a dose of realpolitik.”
“Shit, incoming! It’s another one.”
A big body landed with a thump and came sliding across the deck.
“Barr, what the hell are you doing here?” Trump shouted as soon as he saw the new arrival’s face. The junior devils were looking more and more disgusted at the lack of originality.
“I don’t know, wait. Is this hell?” said Barr staring at the large, red neon sign on the wall. The others had missed the six foot sign completely. “I’ll start an investigation and bring charges! There has got to be a way to weasel out of this!”
“Well”, the Great Satan chuckled, “I think they cleaned out the whole lot of you. We haven’t had this many high level assholes all at once in a century.”
“Trouble is none of you folks are very original and that’s not very entertaining.” The Great Satan was looking increasingly disappointed.
“Boss, maybe you should look at them as an educational resource as Trump was saying.” The first junior devil interjected. Trump brightened up at the mention of his name.
“These people have single handedly turned millions to evil and worshiped ignorance, too. Maybe send them back to earth on a road show. The Three Amigos from Hell. How about that? And we wouldn’t have to put up with them down here, then.”
The Great Satan smiled. “Hah, that’s an excellent idea but I think the name needs work. Didn’t someone just use that?”
The senior devil jumped in, “We could set them up with an old broken down bus and book them into university town bars as a comedy team. The level of mockery and disgust would be . . . wait for it . . . hellish!”
The devils were all moaning but the Great Satan was hopping around in circles. Happy times.