Chadpocalypse - 3:9 Red Right Hand

Chad walked through the small door to The Devil’s chamber and was immediately assaulted by the staccato horns of ska music. He entered a short tunnel illuminated by a deep, red light from the room beyond. The sides of the tunnel had been plastered with advertisements for movies and various rock bands. Chad stopped to look at one of them. He hadn’t been much for movies, mostly because they cost money, but he recognized the poster almost immediately. It was the fourth film in an immensely popular adventure series.

“Admiring my collection?” asked a voice from the end of the tunnel.

Chad looked and saw the silhouette of a squat figure in an open Hawaiian shirt and white shorts. “I-I—” started Chad, and then faltered.

The Devil chuckled. “Oh, I know, it was a terrible film, but that’s kind of the idea, don’t you see? Really got people’s hopes up on that one, only to pull the rug out at the last minute. I have an entire team that specializes in reboots and sequels.”

Chad looked at the poster and then back to the silhouette. Silence hung in the tunnel as Chad tried to find the ability to speak again. “All this power and you dabble in movies?” he asked, finally finding the courage.

“Dabble? I’d hardly call it dabbling when you look at the box office grosses, but sure.” The Devil tapped his foot on the floor, making a soft thumping noise. He wore soft, fuzzy slippers, but his clawed toes poked out the ends. “Movies are one of the fastest ways to get to a person’s soul. People will sell their souls to make them, be in them, or even just to be adjacent to them. Not to mention the fact that the public just clings to their production for dear life. Anything to convince them that their existence is something other than a meaningless sham.”

Chad couldn’t fault him, he was right.

“So, you going to stand in my entryway all day or are we going to have a conversation?”

Chad’s body shook violently at the thought.

“Oh, get over yourself. You came to me, remember?” The Devil turned to walk away, and then, over his shoulder said: “And don’t get any funny ideas about that divine fist of yours. Might make short work of demons, but it’s not going to do anything other than piss me off.”

Steeling himself, Chad walked through the tunnel and into The Devil’s office. The room was tall and lined with oak shelves filled with books, scrolls, and all manner of curiosities. Higher up toward the ceiling, Chad saw the mummified hand of something large and furry mounted on a pedestal. Sitting in the center of it all was a wooden, circular desk. The Devil sauntered over and sat down in a high-backed, leather chair.

In the light of the office, Chad got his first good look at the entity. Unlike the caricatures in cartoons, the devil did not sport a mustache, but instead had a carefully manicured black soul patch. His skin was red, but it looked more like the color of a bad sunburn rather than rubies or blood, and his stature was that of a man who ate too many deep-fried shrimp and didn’t exercise enough to get rid of them afterward.

The Devil steepled his fingers and looked over them at Chad. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He snapped his fingers and a plush armchair appeared at the desk across from him.

Chad approached with great hesitancy but sat down and looked into the eyes of pure evil. There was no color in those eyes, only the glassy blackness of a shark or a doll. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“There it is! Politeness, I love it.” The devil clapped his hands together and rubbed them together vigorously until smoke rose. “He kills three out of four of my horsepeople, shreds my best demons like pulled pork, and then shows politeness and deference when he arrives.” He turned his head skyward. “Truly, this is your champion.”

Chad felt a little off balance like he was watching someone on the edge of madness. “Technically, when you think about it.”

Fire rose from between The Devil’s hands. “Don’t say it. I know. We chose you. Hell, I chose you.” He pressed a button on the desk and an intercom rang. “Send me one real quick, I need to get some energy out.”

“Right away, dear,” came Mrs. B’s voice from a hidden speaker.

“I’m sorry, Chad.” The Devil stood. “It’s just so damned infuriating.” He walked to a small case next to his desk and pulled out a golf club. “Belonged to O.J.,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t believe what it took to get.” As he said it, he burst into a fit of chaotic laughter that ended with an aggravated grunt.

“I don’t quite—”

“Shhh!” hissed The Devil. “I’ve made a mistake. I don’t make them often, and I’m trying to decide what to do about it. Curse those number crunching interns in analytics!” he shouted. “They assured me that your propensity for failure was beyond doubt, and yet here you are.”

The doors to the office opened and a young man walked in, his hands in chains. A demon walked behind him, prodding him forward. “Evening, boss,” said the demon. “Where would you like him.”

“Just put him face down on the floor, right,” The Devil scratched his soul patch, “there.” He pointed to a spot on the floor not far from him. “What would you call that shot, Chad, three-hundred yards?”

It was no more than ten. “Sure.”

“Agreeable, I like that. Set him down please.”

The demon shoved the man down onto the floor so that his chin touched the ground, but his eyes faced The Devil.

“Open your mouth now, son.” The Devil put a golf ball down on the floor.

Chad looked away.

“No, Chad,” he hissed. “I’m going to need you to watch this. Now, I can call a demon to hold your head, or you can turn it voluntarily.”

Reluctantly, Chad looked.

“Now, watch me make this drive.” The Devil wound up his club and swung with perfect form. The golf ball caught fire at first contact with the club and shot forward toward the man. Before he could even wince, the golf ball had gone in his mouth and out the back of his head. “It’s a hole in one!” shouted The Devil. “What. A. Shot!” He pumped his fist in the air and walked confidently back to the desk. “Clean that up,” he called to the demon.

As the demon dragged the body out, The Devil turned back to Chad. “Yes, that feels better. Now, we were getting to my mistake. Really, my minions’ mistake, but what’s leadership without taking a little responsibility, right?”

Chad opened his mouth to agree, but The Devil held a finger up.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m not ready to hear it yet.” He pulled out a small vaporizer, inhaled and blew colored smoke out of his nostrils. “Care for a hit?” he asked.

Chad shook his head.

“Smart boy. These things will kill you. Just wait a few years until the kids upstairs figure that out. Whooo boy.” He crossed his arms behind his head and let out a melodramatic sigh. “Alright, Chad, I think I’ve worked my way up to it. What do you want?”

Chad was still sitting in stunned silence, unsure what to make of the display taking place before him. He wasn’t sure what how to phrase his request. What he wanted was easy enough, but how it was phrased was going to make all the difference. “I want you to press pause on the apocalypse,” he blurted, unable to contain himself.

“Well, there it is.” The Devil clacked his nails on the surface of his desk. “That’s it?” he asked.

Chad was stunned. He had expected some loud boisterous reaction, but The Devil seemed calm, collected even. “That’s it,” he confirmed.

“Well, that seems easy enough.” He pushed a finger down on the intercom button again. “Death, will you come in here for a minute?”

The doors to the room burst open, and Chad felt a familiar chill creeping up his spine. He turned toward the tunnel that led into the room and watched the color drain from it like someone was sucking it all away through a straw. Hoof beats echoed on the floor.

“Don’t bring that thing in here with you. Last time it left a pile of spectral shit under the credenza. The cleaning crew couldn’t find it for weeks, and, well, it didn’t really smell so much as it just annoyed me.”

The hoofbeats continued.

“Leave the horse!” he shouted, growing suddenly angry.

The hoof beats stopped and Chad heard the sound of Death whispering something. A horse snorted, and then clip clopped back out the way it had come. Seconds later, Death strode through the tunnel, looking exactly as he had in the moments before he had killed Chad. “Nice to see you again,” he growled in Chad’s direction.

“He was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one,” replied The Devil. “Listen, Death, quick question for you. How would you feel about putting a pause on the whole apocalypse thing?”

Death ran his bony fingers over his skull. “I don’t really think that’s possible at this point. Too many things in motion and all that.”

“But you’ve lost all the other horsepeople, surely you can’t do it alone.” The Devil looked to Death in admiration, as if daring him to say he could.

“No, no, not alone, we certainly will need some new ones, but shouldn’t take long to train them.”

“Shouldn’t take long to train them,” repeated The Devil in a soft tone. “Well, Chad, there you have it, I don’t think we’re going to be able to stop this thing.” He made a shooing motion to Death.

Death bowed and turned to leave the room.

“Hold on just a minute, fucker.” Chad stood from his chair.

“Temper, temper, Chad…” The Devil rose from his seat as well. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“It’s not fair that he gets three more horsepeople, but we don’t get another chance to stop them.”

“Oh, we’ll pick someone new, don’t worry, Chad. This time I’ll make sure the damned analysts triple check their work. Oh, there’s going to be some flaying to make sure of that.” The Devil licked his lips. “I do love a good flaying, but in the meantime, I think it’s time we discuss what’s going to happen with you.” He stood from his chair, made the shooing motion to Death again and moved to a large lever. “Care to spin the Wheel of Pain?”

He pulled the lever and a comically oversized wheel popped out of the floor. It was covered in flashing lights and would have felt right at home on a game show had the panels not been covered in strange and bizarre punishments. Chad looked, saw a panel labeled genital leeches, shuddered, and remembered that he had one last trick up his sleeve.

“Don’t leave just yet, Death,” Chad called. “I’ve got one final offer.”

The Devil turned from the wheel with a mix of disappointment and intrigue. “Yes, and what is that?”

“How about a wager?”