[Writing Prompt] Within the darkest regions of hell, you are just an ordinary demonic car salesman. However, vehicles can only appear in hell when they have taken a human life. Needless to say, you have an abundance of tanks.
Jasper, Used Tank Salesman
“I’ll be honest with you. Can I be honest with you?”
Jasper shot the young succubus his best disarming smile and tried not to look desperate.
The young succubus had a small bi-horned demon infant swaddled around her chest. She was eyeing one of the used sedans, some cheap jalopy Jasper would be lucky to break even on. Jasper needed to upsell.
“Truth is, these old sedans aren’t very reliable. I wouldn’t trust my family in one of them, that’s for sure.” Jasper slammed his hand down hard on the left side view mirror of the old sedan. It was the mirror he knew was loose already after side swiping a grandma back on Earth. The side mirror fell right off and Jasper made an abashed expression. “Oh, Satan, see what I mean?”
The succubus was a little disconcerted. “Oh my, that’s no good.”
Jasper tasted blood in the water. Not too fast, Jasper buddy, reel this fish in real slow. He nodded as if exasperated. “It really isn’t. It’s just a side effect of the rules, you know. Regulations require that these have killed somebody, and fact, a car takes a beating in the process.”
Jasper shook his head and kicked at the sedan’s hubcap. There wasn’t anything wrong with it, Jasper had just loosened the bolts holding it in place earlier for just this moment. The cap shook and fell right off. Jasper made an oversized shrug and bent down to pick it up. “What a piece of junk, I’m sorry about that mam.”
The succubus shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re even selling those things.”
Jasper pursed his lips and avoided eye contact. “Mam, if it was up to me, I wouldn’t. But it’s my manager. He forces us to offload garbage like this.”
“That’s awful. He should be ashamed, selling to families like that.”
Jasper nodded in the appearance of staunch agreement. “Oh I couldn’t agree more.” Time to drop the bait. “Personally, I only recommend vehicles I trust myself.”
This got the succubus’s attention. “Really? What do you recommend?”
Hooked. Reel it in Jasper. Reel it in. Jasper cleared his throat. “Oh well, sure. Just follow me.”
Jasper led the woman out of the front showroom area, through a small door that led to a much larger garage. Past that door the garage stretched out farther than the eye could see. In the garage, in numbers beyond reckoning, were tanks. Row upon row of tanks. Every tank used in every battle in every war and every conflict in all of human history. The succubus gasped at the sight and her little bundle of demon mewled quietly and stirred at her breast.
“A tank.” Jasper jumped into his pitch, “the perfect family vehicle. 100% reliable, capable of withstanding Cerberus’s bite or a full speed ramming by an Ogrebull in heat.” Jasper walked briskly over to a set of thousands of tanks, in a wide variety of colors but all the same model.
“Personally, I recommend the M1 Abrams, the height of American tank technology. Each comes standard with 105mm cannon and 50 armor piercing and/or high explosive rounds. Now,” Jasper paused and turned to the succubus, “I know what you’re thinking, do I really need the anti-personnel machine gun package? And look, the answer is no, you don’t need it, but next time your on the highway, taking little – I’m sorry, I never asked, what is the young man’s name?” Jasper asked.
The succubus pet the little monster proudly on the head. “Dogoliath, Devourer of Innocents.”
Jasper let that mull for just a second, nodding his head. Fucking hipsters. He cleared his throat and continued, “well, next time you’re on the highway taking little Do…Dogoliath to school and you encounter an impassible herd of the enslaved damned, you may not need that machine gun but believe me when I tell you you’ll want it for sure.”
The succubus briefly flashed annoyance, but then gave a quaint little laugh. It was a popular pasttime among the denizens of hell to harass the damned humans at every turn. “My husband would get a kick out of that…” She began.
Perfect, bring it home baby. “Well, that’s great news because today we’ve got a sale on any M1 Abrams tank – buy one and get the anti-infantry package free of charge!”
“Oh that’s wonderful.”
“It is, isn’t it? So, what do you think?” Jasper waited expectantly.
The succubus looked the tank over up and down. “Well, I think it does make more sense than one of those old used cars. But, well, if you don’t mind me asking…”
Jasper jumped in. “Not at all. I won’t lie, you pay a bit of a premium for something like this, but can you really put a price tag on the safety of your precious Dogoliath?”
The succubus seemed to get irritated. “It’s Dogoliath, Devourer of Innocents.”
Jasper blinked. “Yes, no I know, I was just abbreviating it, that’s all.”
The succubus became annoyed. “Yeah, you did that before too. But that’s not his name – his name is Dogoliath, Devourer of Innocents.”
Japser could not afford this hang up. He swallowed his frustration and nodded obsequiously. “Sure, of course, and a handsome young chap he is. But as I was saying…”
The succubus interrupted, a look of real anger brewing on her face. “You know, I’d appreciate it if you’d actually say his name.”
Jasper was taken off guard. “What?”
“It was my grandfather’s name. He…he died only last year, before little Dogoliath, Devourer of Innocents was even born.” The succubus gave Jasper a withering glance. “I would just appreciate it if you showed me and my child and my grandfather the appropriate respect. Just say my son’s name, correctly.”
Jasper was no fool, and he was well practiced in the art of the sale, and it was true that the customer really was, within reason, always right.
But these damned hipster demons with their damned hipster babies and their ridiculous ironic hipster names were just too much.
“You know what lady,” Jasper muttered, his voice no longer bearing the smooth tone of his pitch, “you and little Dog-whatever, murderer of babes, can go screw yourselves.”
The succubus recoiled as if struck and huffed audibly. “Well, I never!” Then she stormed out of the garage through the way they’d come in.
As she stormed out Jasper called out to her. “What’s wrong with Jim or Bob?! Too pedestrian? You tremendous moron.” Jasper had taken the prospectus out of his pocket in the middle of the pitch and now he threw it hard on the floor in frustration.
The door to the garage slammed shut behind the succubus, leaving Jasper alone in a room larger than Rhode Island and stuffed to the gills with every tank ever made.
Jasper took a moment, adjusted his tie, and felt around to make sure his rotten eyeball hadn’t fallen out of its socket in his rage – it hadn’t. With a deep breath, Jasper bent low, swiped up the tank prospectus and walked back out to the showroom in search of another rube.
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