Hell was busy, but still couldn’t make ends meet. Volume was up and the bottom line way down, and in Hell way down is really way down. No longer were they attracting the
high-end lush and intricate souls that the founder had built the place on. Souls hard won from Philosophers, Scientists and Kings. Nowadays it was just the same old stream of Walmart shoppers who had simply fucked-up. Demons and Devils alike were on four day thirty six hour weeks, muttering some mindless management mantra about doing “more with less.” Many staff members had planned transferring to the White House as Dark Lord Cheney had promised, but after November second, all of those positions were no more.
“Oh what to do oh what to do” they moaned in agonized chorus, till a nasty little imp
named Brimstone cried “ There’s always The Motor Vehicle Department!”