[ WP ] You 've been banished to hell . However , burning in a fiery blaze is not your punishment . It 's washing the dishes . For eternity .

Perhaps it was gravy. 
 
 John's hands were submerged in the hot soapy water, scrubbing bits of food from a plate. But his attention was elsewhere; a plate that sat neatly on the drying rack to his right. 
 
 Maybe it was ketchup. It could have dried and gotten darker. 
 
 The dish had a spot on it. A small, dark, crusty spot. It stared down at him from its perch, taunting him. Teasing him. *Testing him*. 
 
 It could have been some sort of spice. Pepper? 
 
 Hundreds of thousands of plates had passed through John's hands. Every one was made to look brand new, and returned to the Devil himself. John had never returned a soiled dish. He was n't sure what would happen if he did. 
 
 Maybe it's blood. What does Satan even eat? 
 
 John considered retrieving the plate, inspecting it more closely. And cleaning it, of course. But then he had a thought: what if he just let it pass? There's not much he could do from his position; his legs were one with the floor, so there was no escape. But knowing that he could pass a bit of old food along to the ruler of hell; to provide him with that feeling of disgust that comes along with finding something in your food that did n't belong. 
 
 It could easily be burnt rice. 
 
 What would be the consequences, though? This hell of his was eternally unpleasant, but John had grown content in his own way. Would Satan notice something like this? Would he worsen his punishment? The risks seemed great... but it would be so easy to just... *let it go*. He could always say he did n't see it. 
 
 Entirely possible that it's just a stain. 
 
 John reached out and grabbed the plate, and submerged it in the water. A quick wipe of the sponge cleared the dish of its mystery spot, and he returned it to its spot on the rack. 
 
 Maybe next time. 
 
 
 

