“So, what do you think, Bub?”
“What do I think, sir?”
“Of the pit, Bub. How does it look?”
Beelzebub surveyed Hell’s main pit. The rock walls oozed with some brown rusting substance. The lines of damned souls trudged wearily, carrying huge heaps of coal taken from infinite piles, turning spits suspended over fierce flames, their misery obvious on their wretched, soot-blackened faces, while demonic beings in charcoal grey pinstripe suits jabbed at them cruelly with white-hot pokers and prongs.
“…Looks very impressive, sir?” Beelzebub ventured, twirling his pen nervously between his talons.
“Impressive, Bub? Impressive?” (more…)