Hell Bent
an excerpt

“Yo, Lucy!” one of the lost jeered as the Prince of Darkness pranced by. He was on his way to inspect the décor in the newest circle of hell.

Satan cringed. “Don’t call me that!”

“What are you going to do, damn me some more?”

“He has a point, Lord,” Marzipan said.

Marzipan was the Devil’s least tactful demon, but his taste was impeccable. He’d been with Satan ever since God had insisted on gold filigree everything in heaven. Marzipan liked a little tasteful application of gold, on cages, on the occasional King Midas statue, but he drew the line at gold filigree tipped hair.

“But it’s so sparkly and shiny!” God had protested, standing in front of the mirror with Marzipan after that taste-heathen Gabriel had done the tips. “Isn’t it just nicer this way?”

“No.”

“Well, I like it. And so does my Son and the Holy Ghost. So there.”

“God. The two of them hardly make for an unbiased opinion. Come on. Let’s go ask someone else. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of hair consultants you can consult for another opinion. Kyah from the Fab Five would back me up, I know.”

“I don’t care. I like the gold tips. They’re staying.”

“Then I’m not.” And with that, Marzipan had packed his bags and taken out an advert in Deity Daily. He was hoping for someone classy—anyone but Buddha, really; the whole life is suffering was *so* not Marzipan’s aesthetic. An Aztec god would’ve been nice; it was worth dealing with any amount of human sacrifices so long as they had some taste, and Huitzilopoctli was the best accessorized god Marzipan had ever met. But Satan was the one who’d called first, and the chance to decorate a special circle of hell was a project no immortal with aspirations to be the next big name in deity advising could pass up. So there he was now.

“Remind me again what the theme for this one is, Marzipan.”

“Of course, my Lord. It’s the one reserved for child molesters and people who talk at the theater. You got the idea from that show God had cancelled.”