Busman's Holiday

From where he sat, atop a pile of human remains, Satan gazed
melancholically into the realm of hell and expelled a deep, pitiful
sigh. He was bored. Throughout the whole of eternity mankind hadn't
managed to disillusion him quite as much as now.
Even the awe-inspiring Torture Pit's of Gomorra, once feared across all
seven circles of Hell, could not bring a smile to his demonic
face.
Every week he would offer pleasantries to his colleagues at the Council
of Evil as they delivered their reports. He would praise them for new
highs on soul collection statistics (the SCS rating) now up to sixty
two percent on naturally released souls. People were definitely turning
from Jesus and, for the minions of the ABYSS, this was a good
thing.
He sighed again. Why was he feeling so low?

It's true to say that there had been some bad times in the past; the
Sixties for instance. Peace, love and happiness had made things very
difficult. Free love had forced him to take serious steps. He had
dispatched his most resourceful demons into the world; their mission to
encourage sin. At least that had been a challenge, and there had been
results. That decade ended with the monthly SCS figures up by another
four percent; a new record.

As he picked up a smouldering skull, he stared into its empty, black
eye sockets and considered his options. How could he get out of this
rut? He desperately needed to get away from this place; he needed time
to recuperate. That was it, he would take a busman's holiday; Beelzebub
on tour. He laughed as he thought of the tee-shirt. He would get away,
just for a while; give himself time to catch up on some Devil stuff.
Who knows, inspiration might arrive whilst shopping at Ikea or eating a
burger in McDonalds. This, he decided, was definitely the way
forward.

"Abigar, I have a job for you," said Satan. He was addressing a short,
stocky demon with red horns and flaming skin.
"Sir, yes, sir." Abigar saluted his master using the traditional
fire-flick, peculiar to the Fifth Legion of Azryel.
Satan was very fond of Abigar. He had always trusted his little body
guard to get the job done.
"We are going on an expedition into the world."
"Sir, won't that be dangerous, sir," replied Abigar.
"I have decided to go undercover for a few weeks to draw up a new
strategy. I need time and space to think. I am too immersed in politics
while I remain here. Think of it as a sort of winter retreat."
"I understand, sir, a very good plan indeed. Where will we go?"
"That, my small friend, is where I need you."
Abigar nodded. "Whatever you require, sir," he said, looking at Satan
with a proud glint in his smouldering eyeballs.
"I need you to find us a place to stay; somewhere where we will not be
noticed. Somewhere," he paused, looking thoughtfully at Abigar,
"somewhere where no-one would expect to see The Devil."
"Sir, yes, sir." Abigar saluted again then snapped his cloven hand
back down to his burning waist.
"Dismissed," said Satan.

As the snow lightly landed on the windscreen of Lucifer's Volkswagen,
he blew on it, vaporising it with his demonic breath. "One bonus of
being The Lord of Hell I suppose," he mused to Abigar. He opened the
road map.
"We've about forty miles to go, sir," said Abigar. His human form was
that of a dwarf. He was four feet tall and his oversized head was not
quite in proportion with his diminutive body.
"Excellent," replied Satan. He felt happier already. They were on
holiday; and he liked holidays, a lot.
"How long are we going to stay, sir," asked Abigar.
"Just until Christmas has passed, then we can go home."
"Three weeks, sir, I thought we would only be gone for two?"
"I have a plan Abigar." Satan looked back at his map, a wry smile
spread across his cheeks as he gazed at the town of Schanisgueld. At
the top of the map, the country name was written in large black ink;
FINLAND. He ran his finger up the thin blue road that led to their
destination. A faint wisp of smoke rose up from the map's glossy
surface and swirled around the inside of the car.
"Onward to Lapland," said Satan.

As the Volkswagen drew up alongside the brightly coloured cottage, the
deep snow drifts that wedged themselves against the walls began to
melt, turning to steam. Mighty conifers pushed their way skywards at
the rear of the old building, contrasting the plethora of colourful
Christmas designs that ordained its whitewashed walls.
By the time Satan and his demonic bodyguard had stepped from their
vehicle, light brown earth was starting to appear through the melted
snow. A fine mist had begun to settle around the grounds of the
cottage.
"This looks perfect Abigar, well done." The tall, dark haired man
looked down at his stunted companion and smiled. "Shall we go
inside?"
Abigar rummaged around in his coat pocket for a short while before
pulling out a small silver key. He waddled into the wooden porch that
shrouded the cottage entrance and unlocked its creaky oak door.
The cottage was amazing. It was just what they had expected. "The
brochure certainly didn't exaggerate Abigar, it's wonderful."
"Thank you, sir, I thought you'd like it."
"So Santa Claus really lived here in the nineteenth century?" asked
Beelzebub.
Abigar pulled a glossy travel brochure from inside his coat and read
from a circled paragraph. "It says here, that Santa Claus worked and
lived here for nearly three hundred years, fashioning gifts for the
children of the world, until one day the world stopped believing. His
powers faded, his annual trips stopped and his reindeer retreated to
the north. He died an old and lonely man, right here, in this
house."
"OK," said Satan, "so who has been maintaining the house? The
paintwork looks quite fresh."
"There is still a small amount of residual magic left over in the
cottage's foundations. This remains, even though the old man died long
ago. The spirit, that was Christmas, still continues with the upkeep of
the house; waiting to be used again by Santa Claus." Abigar looked at
Lucifer with wide eyes. "It's a nice story isn't it, sir."
"Abigar," said Lucifer.
"Yes, sir?"
"This year, we will be responsible for Christmas."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"What I mean Abigar, is that this year we will do the work that Santa
used to do. We will make all the gifts, and we will deliver them on
Christmas Eve to the children of the world."
"Us, sir?"
"Yes Abigar, I will be Santa and you can be Abigar the Elf." The Lord
of Darkness laughed at his friend's new name.
"Sir, pardon my boldness, but this is madness."
"Madness, Abigar. Why?"
"B? b? because, sir," he gulped, "you are the Lord of the Underworld,
the Prince of Darkness, Lucifer, Beelzebub the Fallen Angel?"
"Abigar, shush. Be quiet."
"But, sir?"
"I know all of that. Look," he said, calmly taking Abigar by the arm,
"no one will ever know. We might actually enjoy it. We can get back to
our duties as minions of Hell after the holidays."
"What about the maiming, the killing, the torture; who will command our
legions? Who will stoke the human pyres and feed the Bathalock?"
"Abigar, you worry too much. We will only be gone for three weeks and I
have left Devachiah in charge. He is perfectly competent to run the
place until we get home. We won't even be missed. Now run along
upstairs and unpack our things."
"Sir, yes, sir."

Sitting back in a large comfortable rocking chair, rocking quietly in
front of an open log fire, The Devil pondered his new name. Santa he
thought, that's quite close to Satan. He reached over and opened a
large picture book that was sitting on top of the wooden table next to
the fireplace. Inside, there were children's toys of all shapes and
sizes, depicted in perfect detail. This was Santa's toy manual. It was
an amazing book, full of colourful dolls and playful carts, speeding
trains and flashy cars, magical books that would pop up and speak and
cowboy guns and Indian bow's.

Over the next few weeks, Abigar and Satan toiled through day and night
to complete the list of toys that flowed down the chimney and out into
a large basket by the fire. Not one of them ever burned, Christmas
magic saw to that. The two demons hammered and chiselled and moulded
and sewed until every child's wish for Christmas delight had been
met.
"I think," said Abigar as he fell back into his chair, "that we have
finished."
"And not a moment too soon," said Lucifer. "It's Christmas Eve and we
need to get a move on."
"So how do we deliver them, sir," asked an exhausted Abigar?
"Simple," said Satan, "blow into this for me and see what happens?"
Satan smiled at Abigar as he offered him a large Elk's horn that had
been mounted above the fireplace.
Abigar took the horn, pressed it up to his lips, and blew into it as
hard as he could. At first they heard a faint resonance. It sounded
like a fog horn, but far off in the distance. Then it started to get
louder, and louder, until the noise was deafening. Then without
warning, it stopped. The room was plunged back into serene silence,
only interrupted by the crackling of the log fire.
"Abigar, can you start to pack the presents into these two sacks. The
one on the right is for the boy's and the other for the girls."
"But, sir, there is no way we will fit all those presents into?"
"Abigar," Satan interrupted his small companion, "remember the
Christmas magic."

Suddenly, the sound of thundering hooves rattled across the roof of the
small cottage. They both knew what this meant; the transport had
arrived.
Abigar ran outside, just in time to see Rudolph, the lead reindeer,
make a sharp left turn, rear up, then bring the sleigh to a halt, just
outside the front door.
"Where's Santa?" asked Rudolph.
"My name is Abigar. I am Sata?," he stuttered, cleared his throat and
then said, "Santa's little helper." The words made him cringe. He was a
high ranking demon in the Fifth Legion of Azryel, not a lowly elf. He
took in a sharp intake of air and calmed down. "Santa is inside, just
finishing up."
"So where have you guys been for the last century?" Rudolph glared at
the dwarf, suspicious that he was alone. "Where's everyone else?"
Before Abigar had a chance to reply, a huge fat man with a snowy white
beard, wearing a bright red tunic and crimson trousers emerged from the
house. He bellowed, "Ho, ho, ho," and grinned down at Abigar.
"Master, you are a cunning beast." Abigar bowed low and presented
Rudolph and his troupe to Satan.
"Santa, where the hell have you been," shouted Prancer.
"Drumming up some interest in Christmas," replied The Devil. "It's time
for a come back."
"Let's roll," shouted Rudolph. He turned his head to face Santa Claus
and winked. "Good to have you back, sir."

It didn't take long to load up the sleigh. There were only two present
bags, plus a little food and drink for the trip.
Abigar had the list of names. He had worked out as best a route as he
could but still didn't see how they would complete the journey in one
night.
With a loud snort and a mighty lunge of his head, Rudolph launched
himself into the crisp winter's night. The rest of the reindeer
followed, dragging the sleigh up after them. The two demons hung on and
enjoyed the ride.
All night long they delivered presents to houses, flats, caravans and
hospitals. Abigar kept looking at his watch. He was amazed at how slow
it was passing. More magic he supposed. But what kind of magic was
this?
"Sir, why does the clock move so slowly?"
The Devil looked down at Abigar and whispered, "Good magic Abigar. This
is magic created in Heaven. It's stronger than any force we can conjure
up from hell." He lowered his voice even further. "And now, Abigar,
we've got it working for us."
At last Abigar was starting to understand. His Master, Lord of
Darkness, was indeed a genius.

It was Monday morning, Boxing Day, and Satan was feeling great. He
greeted Abigar outside the cavernous entrance that led to the reception
area of the ABYSS. In huge letters, written in human blood, the words
Aamon Brandiel and Yetayroz Sacrificed Souls corp. Today he was meeting
the three owners of the most successful soul reclamation agency in
Hell.
"Shall we go in?" The Devil spoke to Abigar in an excited tone. "They
won't know what hit them."
"Sir, can we do that again next year." Abigar looked at The Devil with
a longing in his eyes. He was thinking of the children, waking up on
Christmas morning to their new presents; presents that had been
lovingly prepared over the course of the last three weeks by two demons
on holiday from Hell. He chuckled to himself, wondering what the people
of the world would make of it, if only they knew.

"Send them in," boomed a voice from an intercom perched on the
receptionist's desk.
The Devil, closely followed by Abigar, strode into the large, bone
walled office on the seven hundredth floor of the ABYSS
Corporation.
"Aamon, Brandiel, Yetayroz, nice to see you all." The Devil nodded at
each of the three Fallen Angels that were responsible for the daily
business of the ABYSS.
"Sir, what do we owe this pleasure?" asked Aamon.
"I've been busy over the past few weeks, working on something a little
different. I can't say what, for security reasons, you understand" he
winked at Abigar, "but I would like to be the first to see this
morning's reading on the SCS meter."
"Uh, certainly, sir," Aamon looked a little confused.
Brandiel pressed a button on his control panel and a screen, fashioned
from human skin, lowered from the ceiling. The lights dimmed.
"Sir, that's amazing," yelped Yetayroz. "The SCS is up by twelve per
cent. B?b?but it's Christmas, how?"
Satan smiled. He felt genuinely happy. How cunning could The Devil get?
Was this not his best idea yet?

Later that day, as they sat sipping witch's blood from hollowed human
skulls, Abigar finally asked for an explanation of what had
happened.
"Simple," answered Satan, "not a single child got the present that they
wanted. Their parents would fight! Some would get violent, then, score;
one nil to the minions of hell."
Abigar took another gulp from his own cup. "Genius," he said. "Pure
genius!"