(no subject)
Title Merl
Author zandra_x
Rating PG
Word Count 312 words
Prompt 003, Merl
Characters/Pairing (if any) Merl
Shortly after That Old Gang Of Mine
Merl
When a demon gets killed it’s a big case of ‘who cares?’. There’s no taped outline on the floor, no search for bereaved relatives, no LA Times obit. Would it have killed somebody to get a dozen chairs together in an unused storm drain and have a little ceremony for demons to get up and say what a great guy I was. That Merl, he was one in a million!. Something along those lines. Or they could have had a nice little get-together in Caritas, invite some humans. I spent enough time in there, yeah, everybody was How you doin’, Merl? Ol’ pal, ol’ buddy. But you get knocked off, you’re history, a big ‘who’s he?’ An apology from the humans would’ve been nice.
So now I’m in Hell. Well, you know, “demon”, so you gotta expect that. I’m still finding my way around. Figuring the angles, best I can. Whoever’s running it seems to have put a lot of thought into it. The torment’s kinda personalized. You know, like, your body temperature’s what you’d least like it to be. Me, I’m always cold now. And if you hate heights, you’re always being pushed off stuff or down elevator shafts. Just knowing it’s gonna happen is as bad as it actually happening.
I got some lumps and bruises myself, sort of run-of-the-mill torture, not much imagination but effective. I think it’s the kind of thing they do to new guys, sort of initiation. They sprung “the biggie” later. They let me wander around, everybody talks to me, everybody knows me. They all got something to say, some deep dark secret that they’re itching to share with me. You and me buddy, we’re the only ones who know this. I’m a gold mine of information. There’s only one thing: my lips have be sewn shut. Can’t utter a peep. Told you it was Hell.
Author zandra_x
Rating PG
Word Count 312 words
Prompt 003, Merl
Characters/Pairing (if any) Merl
Shortly after That Old Gang Of Mine
Merl
When a demon gets killed it’s a big case of ‘who cares?’. There’s no taped outline on the floor, no search for bereaved relatives, no LA Times obit. Would it have killed somebody to get a dozen chairs together in an unused storm drain and have a little ceremony for demons to get up and say what a great guy I was. That Merl, he was one in a million!. Something along those lines. Or they could have had a nice little get-together in Caritas, invite some humans. I spent enough time in there, yeah, everybody was How you doin’, Merl? Ol’ pal, ol’ buddy. But you get knocked off, you’re history, a big ‘who’s he?’ An apology from the humans would’ve been nice.
So now I’m in Hell. Well, you know, “demon”, so you gotta expect that. I’m still finding my way around. Figuring the angles, best I can. Whoever’s running it seems to have put a lot of thought into it. The torment’s kinda personalized. You know, like, your body temperature’s what you’d least like it to be. Me, I’m always cold now. And if you hate heights, you’re always being pushed off stuff or down elevator shafts. Just knowing it’s gonna happen is as bad as it actually happening.
I got some lumps and bruises myself, sort of run-of-the-mill torture, not much imagination but effective. I think it’s the kind of thing they do to new guys, sort of initiation. They sprung “the biggie” later. They let me wander around, everybody talks to me, everybody knows me. They all got something to say, some deep dark secret that they’re itching to share with me. You and me buddy, we’re the only ones who know this. I’m a gold mine of information. There’s only one thing: my lips have be sewn shut. Can’t utter a peep. Told you it was Hell.