Death Co: 17. (End of Times) & Epilogue

Well, this is it. I've come to the end of Death Co. I hope you enjoy the conclusion, and thanks for reading!

-Mac

17. End of Times

     The bar isn’t that bad. There’s a TV playing a sports game with teams that I honestly don’t recognize. I haven’t really kept up with the times (being dead keeps you pretty busy). The beer hits my lips like a tidal wave of memories and regret. I can feel the night that I stumbled drunkenly into my apartment to inadvertently end my life. All of my time on earth flashes before my eyes in snapshots. I breathe a heavy sigh knowing that it’s over.

     “You going to be wanting another one of those?” The bartender is overweight and polishing a glass that has long since become clean. He’s a stereotype in every way and it feels fitting to spend my end in his company.

     “Yeah, thanks. Put it on my tab.” On my way to hell anyway. What’s a petty larceny on the stack? I take a greedy swig of the beer in front of me, savoring the bitter blast that accompanies it. Time is passing slowly, which is to my liking. Every second I spend in this bar is another that I’m not being ripped apart by orthodontic teddy bears (it’s a long story, and I’m short on time).

     I’m beginning to wonder where the barkeep has gone with my refill when the smell of sulfur punctures my nostrils. “Too late for final clemency from the good lord above I suppose?” His toenails click on the floor as he walks over to the stool next to me.

     “You made a deal [NAME DELETED]. He’s got no power to undo what you’ve done, even if he wanted to.”

     “What’s that supposed to mean?”

     “Oh come on. You know him as well as me, creature of his creation.”

     “He’s busy.”

     “Yup. He’s recently found a Goldilocks planet to play with. Filled it with little imps covered in fur and monsters with unimaginable teeth. It’s quite spectacular actually. They have no concept of heaven or hell, which levels the playing field. I’ll have to take you sometime.”

     I drain what’s left of my beer and slam it down on the counter. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

     “No, it appears not. Time to go.” He holds out a clawed hand. The flower pattern on his shirt is just one of the many torments I will have to endure in the coming eternity. I want to cry out for help, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. A stoic blankness covers my face, obscuring the true terror writhing below the surface.

     “I guess so.” I shuffle off the stool and grab his hand.

     “Don’t act so depressed [NAME DELETED]. We’re going to have so much fun together!”

Epilogue: I am the Demon

     Let’s recap. I’ve been in hell for about 5 years now. It’s not as bad as everyone says. Sure I spent one of those years being ripped into quarters by terrifyingly ill-tempered apes with my great aunt’s face, but the pain passes after a while. Come to think of it I don’t feel much of anything anymore.

     The question comes to my mind a lot: Was it worth it? Was that little shit worth it?! The answer is an unequivocal no, but what’s done is done. After the apes there was the department of national registration, only instead of immigrants there were just snakes… I fucking can’t stand snakes, but again, the venom wore off, the swelling went down, and now their bites are nothing more than a nuisance.

     I try to keep a positive attitude as much as I can. The Devil seems to like people who can smile through torture. As a matter of fact I’ve recently been put up for promotion. Earned my horns just yesterday. I figured it was time for a little payback. Today’s my first assignment. A couple of requisition agents are coming for OJ Simpson (‘tragic’ prison stabbing), and I get to expedite it.

     I’ve really become quite cunning down here. Three escape attempts, all ending with impalement, but the point is that I tried. One of these days I’ll manage it. Until then I’m content to give those cocky pricks up at the requisition agency a run for their money. They should watch their backs, because I’m the demon now…

The End