The Complaint (part 7)


“Rhonda, will I get to punish my own killer,” Ellen asked digging in to her meal.

“Probably not. Upper management doesn’t generally like to make things personal. He feels that people don’t create logical punishments when their emotionally involved.”

Several short fat neon creatures with horns and tails sat down at the table next to them they were handed menus.

“Who are those guys,” Ellen asked.

“Those are uncloaked demons. Normally, they take human form and roam the earth recruiting souls.”

“They get menus?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re like celebrities down here.” Rhonda said. “The green one has his own talk show.”

The two women finished their lunches and returned to the office. Rhonda showed Ellen how the various computer programs worked and Ellen had her new employee orientation.

She was given a health care card and shown the gym. She marveled at the raging fire that burnt just outside of the glass walls of the gym.

“Most of us sit all day, so we need a really intense workout”, the trainer explained.

At the end of the day Virgil picked Ellen up in his boat and they drove to the intern dorms. She was shown to a small room with a large bed and told that she would be sleeping there until she had completed her first three punishments.

She went into the kitchen to microwave her dinner SpagehttiO’s . A tall man with dark hair and blue eyes was sitting at the table reading the newspaper and eating.

“Hi,” Ellen said.

“Oh, hi. You must be the new girl, Ellen is it? I’m Kyle, “ the man said in a crisp English accent. Ellen felt a deep tension in her stomach when he took her her hand in his strong grip.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.”

“The SpaghettiO’s are in the shelf over there.”

She prepared her meal while he read the paper.

“They have a newspaper down here,” she enquired.

“Yeah, just a weekly, it’s called Hell Week.”

He held up the paper for her to see.

“Oh my God the headline,” she said.

Satan Disappointed in weak death toll at mall shooting”.

“Oh, is that how you died?”

“Yeah,” She said reading over his shoulder, “Ellen Turnblue 24.”

“That’s a nice picture of you.”

“Thanks,” she said drawing away from him a bit.

She sat down and began to eat. It occurred to her that there was no way to look graceful eating Spaghetti’Os. She wondered how she looked, she hadn’t seen a mirror since she’d gotten there. If she looked the same in death as she did in life than he was considerably prettier than her. She wondered if there was a league system in Hell.

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