"You thould all realithe that fighting ith dangerouth and hip-hop ith good cardio," he explained as he busted a few moves, trying to impress.
"I really don't think hip-hop will protect us from Angels and all sorts of other things that will want to kill us on Earth," Myrtle volunteered as she tried to imitate Carl's moves.
"Angels really want to kill us?" I asked in a strangled voice.
"Sweet Lucifer's bouncing balls, of course they do! Angels, other Demons and Hell knows what else," Janet chimed in happily.
Why she was happy was a mystery, but I was not. "Guys, what would you say if we decided not to go to Earth and we just stayed in Hell and opened a dance school?"
Carl looked intrigued, but Janet and Myrtle shook their heads impatiently.
"No. Satan has said Earth and to Earth we shall go," Janet declared.
"Your dad may be a whack job, and please don't tell him I said that, but he's been around for millions and knows the score. If he's sending us there it's for a reason. And I prefer to keep my head," Myrtle said.
"What if we open a danth thcool on Earth?" Carl suggested as he did a tremendously horrid split leap that made my groin hurt.
"I don't want to go," I said quietly. "I have no power yet."
I wondered if this new wrinkle would cause a violent episode. I knew if they demolished my house again Stella would come to my rescue. My odd little group didn’t even seem to notice the bungalow had reverted back to its former glory or even care that I was powerless aside from a few normal Demon tricks. Whatever. I hadn’t been able to figure out a kind way to dump them and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to. So here we all sat back in my bungalow debating kick lines as opposed to kickboxing.
"You power will come," Carl said gently. My nutty group surrounded me protectively. "Bethides." He grinned evilly. "We've been holding out on you."
"Wait. What?"
"Carl," Janet admonished as she put her stubby little hands on her cute curvy little hips.
"Jutht remember, what the eye theeth is not alwayth true."
"Enough," Myrtle mumbled grumpily. "I like my life even if you don't. Can it."
"Besides, if you think Hell is safe. . ." Janet muttered worriedly.
"Why does everyone know more than I do?" I demanded, tired of all the cryptic bullshit I had dealt with my entire life.
Carl smiled. He actually had beautiful teeth and cute dimples, but the lisp. Hoo baby, now I knew why he preferred to communicate through interpretive dance. On Earth he could have had speech therapy, but in Hell you were stuck with what you got.
"Pathienth is a virtue and withdom cometh with time and maturity," he said as he patted my head like a dog.
At loath to admit it, he might be right. I hadn't behaved like the grown woman I'd become. I was stuck in adolescence. Could I change? Did I have a choice?
"We're Demons. We are born of Hell and sin. We are destined to make sure the balance of good and evil remains. Without one the other distorts and becomes the end of the world. Simple and impossible," Myrtle stated.
When in the Hell did she get so smart? Had they really been holding out on me?
We'd all been born in Hell. However there were different levels in Hell, same as Heaven, from what I’d heard. The lowest level, or the Basement, was truly horrifying. That was the Hell from nightmares. The Hellfire and brimstone, screaming in agony, burning for eternity Hell. That was where the very evil went when they died. They were punished in fire until the end of time. Nobody could give me a definition on what the end of time actually meant. You would assume that my dad or his brother God would have an idea on that one, but if they did they were incredibly tight lipped. I’d never been to the Basement and I never planned on going. A couple of my sisters, the ones from the seventh and eighth centuries, seemed to enjoy visiting the Basement, but it just wasn’t for me.
The next level up was the Sub-Basement, another place I’d never been. The Sub-Basement was for lesser evil souls when they died. There was fire there too, just not as hot. The lucky people who resided there were not quite bad enough for the Basement, but not quite good enough for Purgatory. I knew many doubted Purgatory, but it existed. I’d been there and trust me, you don’t want to go. It’s boring and beige, it smells stale and they play bad cheesy elevator music twenty-four seven..
There was also an area in the Sub-Basement that my dad preferred to ignore. It was an area where souls did penance so they could leave Hell and ascend to Purgatory. . .then possibly Heaven. It was a major long shot, but there were some who I did think ended up in Hell by mistake. Not that I would share that with my dad—my outstanding grades were about all he could take. The flip side of that was that some in Purgatory end up becoming violent and had to descend into Hell. Personally I think the constantly piped in elevator music caused some souls to snap. It would make me want to tear my own head off.
And then there was the main floor—where we all had been born. It was as big as the United States, but most the action took place in the northeast corner in an area about the size of Washington D.C. This was where the Demons lived. We were born in Hell and we were the loyal army of Satan, my dad. Many Demons took the portals back and forth to Earth for pleasure and work. I'd never been allowed to go. Besides, I’d rather stay in Hell with my family no matter how dysfunctional we might be.
It was a huge misconception that my father created all the chaos and evil on Earth. Mortals were given free will by my Uncle God, and they created evil all by their lonesome. My dad got to punish the you know what out of those idiots who choose to be heinously bad. And quite honestly some of them deserved my dad’s wrath. He loved his job.