[ WP ] Hell is undergoing a recession . Desperate for work , a formerly powerful demon applies to the only work available : answering Ouija boards and Magic 8 Ball questions .

Baal glowered. Demons generally appeared to be glowering, but Baal frowned until the crease in his burn-scarred forehead seemed as an infinite abyss of darkness. Smoke rose from his nostrils and curled up and around his head and long twisted horns. Each time he opened his terrible mouth to utter lamentations and filth, dark hungry flames licked his lips, searing off flesh and tasting the bone beneath. The demon crossed his arms, his muscles bulging with the power to move continents, the intricate markings burnt into his skin glowing and snaking about his elbows and shoulders. 
 
 For months he had been inactive, his beloved place at Satan ’ s right hand lost to him. Recession! He snorted furiously, flames flaring, his eyes deep and dark. A recession in Hell! It was ridiculous. And even more ridiculous, that his place had been handed over to some underling, some newcomer to the demon ranks who worked for less reward. 
 
 He stepped along the searing passageway; he held his head high in order to tear with his sharp horns those struggling souls who had been embedded in the ceiling. Their screams delighted him as he passed. Listen well, he told himself bitterly, for these will be the last heart-warming screams you will hear for a long time. 
 
 Finally he arrived and with one bizarre hand that was part paw, part human hand and webbed between the fingers, he opened the door. A snarl escaped him, ringing off into the distance, horrible, causing the ears of those souls who heard to bleed. The most excruciatingly dull room in Hell. He walked in, slammed the door behind himself and gazed around the room. Long weird sounds came from his mouth in a breath of black smoke. Demon profanities at their worst, untranslatable to any human tongue. 
 
 The room looked like any bureaucrat ’ s office in the mortal realm. A desk, swivel chair, computer, even a stained and chipped coffee mug that someone had placed there for shits and giggles. Already the monitor shone with fresh questions. Magic 8 Ball. Before this day, Baal had not known what a Magic 8 Ball was, and when he had been told, he didn ’ t believe it. He knew humans came up with all sorts of stupid shit, but this? At least, back in the day, when he still paid attention to the humans who looked to magic for hope and answers, people still used the fun methods. Sacrifices, knives, fires. Now, this. 
 
 Should I leave my husband? Another oath escaped his blackened mouth and Baal bent to touch the keyboard. Fuck yes. In the mortal world, the woman stared at her Magic 8 Ball, put it down and walked away. 
 
 Will I be found out if I kill my neighbour ’ s dog? Baal laughed, an awful sound that made human ’ s bellies turn to water. No, kill the fucking mongrel. The man on earth smiled and went to fetch his shotgun. 
 
 Suddenly the demon growled. How long had it been since he walked into this Hell-forsaken room? Three years? Five decades? Baal roared, tore the computer from the desk and shattered it on the steaming floor. Satan would give him back his old job if he had to gut every demon in Hell, if he had to tear the fingernails and teeth from each and every person in Hell himself, if he had to… 
 
 Baal looked up, catching sight of the mysterious sign on the wall. The chasm-frown deepened on his brow once more. 
 
 The kitten on the charred poster bewildered him, the furry thing clinging to a branch, its little white paws clinging for dear life. 
 
 Hang In There. The demon sighed, hanging his head, his immense horns suddenly seeming to weigh a tonne. He turned to the newly appeared computer and read the next question: If I kissed two boys at the party last night, does that make me a slut? Without A Doubt. 
 
 Baal assumed the worn-down posture of workers the earth over, his talons clicking on the keys as he went about his work. 

