P21The Curious Life of a Preacher's Wife

Antagonist Background Story: "Oscar Chokes Down Ice Cream"

"Readeth, thee, the hapless wards
of Shakespeare's tongue, that lies in shards?
Or glibly boast, thee, of the sum
of dancing letters as they come?

"From whence doth come, thee, nave in red
a-poking, pricking long, lost dead?
In Hell's most wasted holes of want,
the boastful humans ne'ermore vaunt."

"This imp is slap-trap crazy," the group of four demons sneered at Oscar, Demon, First-Class, their ward, and perennial punching bag. "Why read Shakespeare? He's only two levels up. Just go talk to him."

"I'm not reading Shakespeare. I'm imitating Shakespeare while contemplating the miserable lives of the humans we've captured."

"Why imitate Shakespeare or any other human for that matter?"

"I get so tired of all the curse words we spout throughout the corridors of Hell. It's boring. I want to at least sound intelligent."

SMACK! Blast Furnace landed a slimy appendage across his face. Oscar tumbled down six flights of stairs, landing in a heap at the locked, iron door of the first dungeon. "Whadya do that for, Fool?" he spat. "I was just being honest."

"Who's honest in Hell or most big cities on the surface, for that matter?" Jack Knife landed on his chest. "We run those, too."

Oscar rolled to his left, slamming the bigger imp's face on the iron door, flying back to the level from whence he had fallen. Then he bobbed and weaved through the stalactites and stalagmites until he found what seemed like a hidden corner to hide in and lick his wounds.

"Ewwww," Oscar bent double at the smell.

"There are no hiding places in Hell, don't cha know?" B.O. Stinky rubbed his butt cheeks all over Oscar's head. "No use trying we'll always find you."

Oscar really did feel ill. How can I escape these fools? He gave himself up in a free-fall to the next level lower. Bad choice, he realized as Sulfur Smoke stood him straight up and planted a slobbery French kiss on his..."cheek?" Thankfully he had turned his face just in the nick of time. We may, also, say, "Just in the nicotine" because as the name would imply Sulfur Smoke was a smoker, too.

"Get off, Idiot! I don't love any of you. This is Hell. I'm stuck with you because you're my assigned tormenters. You're worse to me than I am to the humans."

"But you're our favorite hen. You've got so much pluck."

Pointing to his throat, he hacked, "Ahh, ahh. That's so dry. I need water."

B.O. Stinky peed in his direction.

Oscar recoiled to the nearest stalagmite. "Ooh, NO! I said water, not acid rain."

Finally, the four were tired of playing coy. Instantly, they crouched in attack mode, but Oscar was off before they could blink. Flying past the cinder blocks he took out a pile but kept flying. Nearly hemmed in at a lava flow, he bounced off an outcropping and flew his fastest to the Door of Hell's Abyss. The four were once again on top of him until he pulled three corkscrews in flight, headed for Hell's main door, and a few hours of relief on the surface of the Earth.

Close enough to smell the aroma of the world beyond, freedom was not to be. Slimy claws latched onto all four of his appendages. "Not so fast, you little sinner. We've prepared a banquet in your honor."

"You are too kind. Just give it to the next schmuck."

"Oh. No. We insist, that you be our guest of honor."

Flight stopped. Sinking started as the five damned lifeforms fell dozens of levels down to the kitchen of Hell's worst imp workers, wonderfully situated right next to the latrine. (For all practical purposes, who cares if there's a latrine or not, since everybody just goes wherever they are. Decency and protocol are two concepts, that have no meaning in Hell.)

At any rate, the fivesome had arrived at Oscar's Banquet. The humans would never, again, enjoy these luxuries, but four slimy "friends" held him in his chair as he perused T-bone steaks, omelets, coffee and tea of myriad varieties, cookies, doughnuts, baklava, flan, chocolate chip cookie dough milkshakes among a myriad of milkshakes, and ice cream flavors and sundaes of every stripe, which would make humans roll over in their graves if they knew it existed at this moment and at this place.

Oscar squirmed in his seat under heavy hands. "No. Not this. Anything but this."

"You made us listen to Shakespeare when we found you, awhile ago. Time for you to pay us back by taking your medicine. Open wide."

Blast Furnace forced his mouth open as Jack Knife shoved a ladle spoon full of ice cream down his gullet.

"Not ice cream! It burns. It burns." Oscar whimpered, "Just let me go."

"The humans would kill for this stuff, and you're crying. Interesting. Can you boys hold him down and feed him?" Blast Furnace demanded.

"Sure ting, Boss," Sulfur Smoke said. "It'd be our pleasure."

"Great. Don't lose a drop, and now I'm off. I've got more fries to fish."

by Jay O’Toole
on October 15th, 2021