[Writing Prompt] Two Demons Literally Ride The Highway To Hell On Their Way To Work
Highway To Hell
“Dude, we’re literally on the Highway to Hell.”
Kron rolled all 16 of his eyes and spat a wad of pure black ooze from his topmost mouth out the window. “I get it Baal. It’s funny. But every, friggin, day man? For real?”
Baal frowned, the music still blaring in the background. “Wait, you don’t like my music?”
“Oh Christ, here we go.” Kron turned his middle body quadrant towards Baal, sounding out his words carefully with the bulbous lips of his largest orifice, putting on a baby voice. “Nooooo, Baal, I woooove your mooosic. I hope we wissen to the same, goddamned thing every single day for the rest of fucking eternity. Highway to hell, over and over and over.” Kron’s lower quadrant belched.
Baal’s spirits were in tatters. Dejected, he bent over and lowered the volume substantially. “Sure. OK man, I get it. I just,” Baal avoided contact with any of Kron’s 16 eyes, “I thought you liked it, that’s all.”
Kron let out a quadruplicate sigh. Pergatory sped past outside the car windows. The two demons sat in awkward semi-silence for awhile as the music played quietly.
In the distance, once in awhile, there would be flashes of light as some lucky soul fulfilled their penance and shot up to wherever the hell it was they went. Kron watched one guy shoot up into the sky and shook all of of his quadrants left and right. “That’s why we do it, man, right there.”
Baal didn’t turn and look. “Huh?”
Kron turned his two lowermost quadrants toward Baal, while the other two still looked out the window. “That’s why we do our work, dude. We’ve got to be the other side of the coin, you know?”
Baal nodded, agreeing but still hurt. “Yeah, i feel you. It’s important work.”
Kron turned all 16 eyes on Baal. “It sure is man. And you’re right, why not celebrate it? Right, why not? Turn that shit up.”
Baal’s lower horns began to flush. “No, man, it’s ok.”
Kron began extending the nightmarish baby arms that grew inside of each of his foul mouths, dripping black slime. “Don’t make me do it man.”
Baal started to laugh, “Come on, you don’t like it, it’s OK.”
Kron laughed too, the groping baby fingers slowly extending from each horrible orifice towards the radio dial. “Fine, I’m gonna do it. Hope you have a good detailer.”
Baal relented, all smiles. “OK, OK!” He turned the music way up again, and it filled the car.
Kron retracted the baby arms into his fetid mouths and Baal opened the windows, just as they passed under the gates of hell, letting in the hot breeze and the screams that the breeze carried. Relaxed and excited again, the two friends rode on, into the bowels of the inferno.
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