iHell Chapter Three: The Heist and The Service

Let’s see, where were we? Oh, right, Judas Iscariot had just sold Hell to Steve Jobs and the Green Mamba, codename Granny Smith, had called Steve Jobs to get his teeth cleaned in what Jobs believed was a dental waiting room but what the demons knew was purgatory. If you’ve just jumped in, you are probably thinking you are lost or consider me loony. Both are probably true.

Anyway, the Green Mamba, disguised as one of those dentist’s aids, was leading Steve Jobs through the door into a long hallway. At the end of the hallway were the pearly gates, except they were neither gates nor pearly. No, the modern pearly gates consisted of a door with a plaque reading St. Peter, DDS. Green Mamba’s mission was to prevent Steve Jobs going through that door by any means necessary. Unfortunately, things were not going very well.

“No, I do not want to ‘meet you for a little drinkie.’ No, I do not want to ‘meet up after the dentist office and misbehave.’ I want to get my teeth cleaned,” said Jobs. “And if you want to seduce someone properly, perhaps you should flirt with them first, perhaps ask their name. What you are doing is kind of creepy.” Steve Jobs turned to leave for the door.

Well, seduction was out, thought the Green Mamba. She tapped her earring. “This is (a slight pause, grits her teeth, then) Granny Smith, repeat: this is Granny Smith calling Rotten Core. Come in Rotten Core.”

“Hello Granny Smith. Progress report.”

“Emergency Protocol One.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve bloody lost him, that’s what I’m saying! Commence Emergency Protocol One.”

“Which one is that?”

“Kill the lights you moron! He’s almost at the door!”

Just as Steve Jobs was reaching for the door, the power at the dentist’s office failed. Standing around in bewilderment, he was suddenly knocked on the head by a powerful object (he was later to discover it was an archaic demonic weapon: a hammer made out of human teeth. Ah: irony) he crumpled to the floor but remained conscious. The Green Mamba pulled the black bag over his head and started dragging Jobs away just as St. Peter, DDS, was beginning to get suspicious.

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St. Peter, DDS, felt the lights go out. (Angels, being made of light and sugar and spice and everything else that’s nice, do not just see light, they feel it). No problem, there were flickers in purgatory all the time. When they did not immediately come back on, however he wondering if God was bowling again (the cause of all thunderstorms). When he listened, heard no bowling balls, and the lights still did not come back on, he began to get a little suspicious. When he heard the cries of “Help me! Help me! I’m being geniusnapped!” he began to get very suspicious. When he felt for his wallet and noticed that was missing, he called security.

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Baron Von (...) had tapped into all of the security cameras and power sources in Purgatory. The cameras covered all but one area: the hallway leading to St. Peter, DDS’s, office. He waited anxiously for the Green Mamba to come out of the hallway, staring at the waiting room camera. As he did so, he noticed Judas Iscariot was no longer there. He called his sandal phone.

“Judas’s shoe. Judas speaking.”

“I told you to go by your codename. And why are you not in the waiting room?”

“Uhhh...I’ve been wounded. Fatally wounded. I am dragging my weary bones to die in peace.”

“So security’s there?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

Baron Von (...) hung up the phone and saw the Green Mamba burst through the waiting room, and security stopping her in her tracks. Baron Von (...) did what any sensible demon would do in a crisis situation. Flee immediately, abandoning the mission and being a coward in the process.

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Meanwhile Judas Iscariot was crossing dimensions, completely and utterly unhurt. Crossing dimensions is a lengthy and difficult process that I’m sure you would find uninteresting. Suffice to say, it requires a potato, a chicken, and some dental floss.
Of much more import is what dimension he was crossing to: The offices of the A.R.S., or Archangel Revenue Service, for long. As soon as he arrived he was confronted by a stern looking angel.

“State your name, state of being, and intention.”

“Judas Iscariot, Demon, and I wish to make a transaction.”

All contracts and transactions in the Outer Realms had to be overseen by the Archangel Revenue Service, even ones they were not involved in.

The angel looked at Judas disapprovingly.

“You’re the Judas?”

“No I’m an actor from Jesus Christ Superstar. Of course I’m the Judas!”

“The Judas who betrayed Jesus Christ.”

“Oh my sweet horns. Yes, that Judas.”

“Right this way.”

You may have been under the misunderstanding that the Archangel Revenue Service may be enemies with the backstabber who betrayed Jesus Christ. Most angels would be, but the ARS were friends with anyone they could do business with.

“So what do you wish to transact?”

“I wish to oversee Lucifer’s selling of Hell to Steve Jobs.”

The angel said nothing for a moment. Instead he looked intently at Judas. You know how when human tax collectors look at you, you feel like they are staring into your soul? The ARS actually are. Finally, “Lucifer. Hell. Steve Jobs.”

“Yep.”

The angel struggled to regain composure. It was not his job to question, only to make money.

“Do you have the proper paperwork?”

Judas produced Lucifer’s signature, lifted from the book contract he had recently gotten from him. The angel nodded. After showing a few other small items he had accrued for the deal, the angel drew up a contract and signed his signature.

“Its done. If Steve Jobs really wishes to buy, as you say, then he is now the proud owner of a used Hell.”

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While this was happening, the assembled security force of Purgatory was holding his sword threateningly at the Green Mamba, who was using Jobs as a hostage. The security force, however, was only one man: St. Michael the Archangel.

“Now put down the hostage and walk away with your hands up.”

“Take one step closer and I’ll kill the hostage,” snarled the Green Mamba.

“You’re bluffing,” said St. Michael.

“Am not,” said the Green Mamba.

“I swear I will kill you...I’m not sure what will happen, as we are all already dead...but I’ll do it anyway.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jobs. “We’re dead?”

“No we’re not. We’re in a dentist office. Now shut up,” said the Green Mamba and St. Michael.

“Wait a minute,” said St. Michael. “The Green Mamba?”

“Oh my sweet fangs,” said the Green Mamba. “Cutie?”

“You know each other?” said Jobs.

“We dated once,” said St. Michael wistfully.

“Had a thing,” said the Green Mamba dreamily.

“Oh my God,” said Jobs. “My kidnapper and security are flirting with each other.”

“Listen,” said the Green Mamba. “Perhaps you could pretend you never saw me.”

“Perhaps I could,” said St. Michael. “Perhaps you could meet me for coffee at the Three Fate’s Diner.”

“Our first date. You’re such a romantic,” said the Green Mamba.

Jobs started gagging.

“It’s a date.”

St. Michael sheathed his sword, and the Green Mamba dragged Jobs out of Purgatory and into Hell, his new company.