The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole! (1) (35 page)

“Fine,”
 
Bud says. “Hear that, Leon? We got more firepower
and
a ride.”

“Slut bang demonhole smut, Bud,”
 
Leon says with tears brimming in his eyes.

“I know, Leon.”
 
Bud puts his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “But Jerome will pay for what he did to you, buddy. If not, once we smear that devil cock sucker out, we can come back and do the same to Jerome. Sound good?”

“Asslick foursome, Bud,”
 
Leon says, waving his hand at the ready Sheriff Smoochole and Deputy Morks. He is ready to leave. The walls are crying the tears he won’t.

“The Hummer is parked out back,”
 
Smoochole says, still grinning. “Hurry up, boys, I can’t fucking wait. Oh, yeah, Deputy, grab some of them sweet-ass shotguns on your way to the Hummer.”

Y
our
Lord and Savior is Pissed

Death ponders the remains of Las Vegas.

Buildings lie in rubble; girders and chunks of concrete are the sole remnants of the most luxurious hotels in the world. Now they are gravestones, marking the burial sites of people and chips and tons of money. Neon lights once shone like daylight. Now they are dead or sparking in the street.

The first quake was bad, and when the form of Satan rolled over, it was pretty much the end of the entire city.

People wander like zombies, covered in ash, blood and sometimes parts of other people. Every few minutes, a demon pops into view. Gets a hard-on at the sight of the destruction and cock slaps the shit out of some poor soul. Death could put an end to this. He could stretch out his hand and end the misery. He could wipe it away with a look. A smile. A grim grin as only the grim reaper can pull off. He has done it before, and he could do it now.

But he doesn’t.

A demon tosses a man into the air, a fat guy dressed in sweats with a big gold chain around his neck. The necklace flies away from the demon, but the guy is impaled on the demon’s raging member. His face goes completely white in shock.
Then red in pain.
Then his eyes light up, and his throat opens in the most bloodcurdling scream Death has heard in a few years.

Death should help, but what’s the point?

A green demon covered in flaming giant warts pops out of the rubble right in front of the man in black. He drools a vitriol that drips to the ground and burns holes in everything it touches. Death stands resolute, doesn’t even raise his hand. His hoodie slides off, leaving his bald head exposed.

“Sup,” the demon hisses.

“Taking in the sights.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The monster is at least eight feet tall with hips wider than its shoulders. It resembles a spider with a long neck and round head at one end and half a dozen knobby arms on its chest. The thing crouches down on haunches the size of semi tires.

“I guess I can’t eat you.”

“Probably not.”

“A lot has changed. A lot of the rules don’t work the way they used to.” More drool cascades out of the mouth that hangs long and lean like a giraffe’s.
Snout the color of a pickle.

“This hasn’t.” The dark man gestures and a massive scythe forms in his hands. The demon whistles in appreciation. He looks over his shoulder as though he may have heard a friend call. Or maybe he left something back down the road. Maybe he doesn’t want to get sliced in two.

“Guess I’ll just fuck off then.” The demon turns away.

“Later.”

“Antichrist, I hope not. Hey, you wouldn’t know where Satan’s spawn is, would you?”

“Dead.”

“You sure?”

Death stares at him.

“Right. So … have a nice Apocalypse.”

The demon wanders away, chancing upon a showgirl cowering behind an overturned car as he goes. He pulls her out and rips off her red sequins to reveal a flawless naked body the color of ash. Her screams don’t last long, because his mouth opens to an impossibly large maw, and in she goes, headfirst. He pulls her back out, sucking the flesh from her bones like he is skinning the meat off a chicken wing. He tosses the pile of steaming bones in a heap.

Death walks deeper into the remains of the city.

A flickering sign proclaims the building that used to be the El Douchola Hotel. Now it is slabs of concrete. No demons lurk here, and Death has to wonder what’s up. He’s had to scare a few more away, which is a new experience. In the old days he would have sliced them to bits without a second thought.

A cry from inside pulls at Death.
Something familiar, as though he were remembering an old song.

He picks his way through the rubble. As one of the Horsemen, he has a few tricks up his sleeve, but inhuman strength was never one of them. Instead, when he comes across a blocked path, he uses his scythe to cut through the obstruction like a hot knife through lard. He chops a column in half and jumps back when part of the floor above collapses.

He waits for the dust to settle, then continues, climbing over beds and chairs. Something shakes in what used to be a closet, but he ignores it and moves on.

He comes across the remains of tables, chips, money.
People and body parts lie everywhere.
There is a guy folded completely in half at the waist, crushed under a massive table. A loud groan comes from a giant rent in the floor. Death pokes his head under a fallen column and then weasels through a narrow gap where it meets the wall. Then he is through and staring down a tremendous gap in the earth like part of a plate under the ground has shifted.

He steps to the edge and looks over it. The ground falls away into a vast valley of broken earth. It must be a five-hundred-foot drop. Not that he has any plans to go over the edge. A hand is in view, and he follows it to a pale white arm clad in a dirty white sleeve.

“Someone alive?”

“Barely.”

Death should drop the scythe and send this poor soul on to whatever awaits, but that familiar something needles him again. Like an old song he hasn’t head in years is suddenly pounding away in his head. For the first time in his long life, he reaches down and helps someone live.

The guy coughs and pushes himself up on all fours. He sneezes a few times, wipes his nose on his robe and then blows his nose by blocking each nostril and exhaling until long strands of snot form
a thick
mucus on the remains of the floor. Death looks away.

The man gets to his feet. He has a thick black beard and reminds Death of someone he’s seen on TV or maybe in a movie.

“Thanks,” the man says and sits down. He brushes off his clothes even though the dust and debris are caked so thick the robe itself looks gray. He coughs again and looks up at Death. Death drops his scythe and falls to his knees.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbles.

“Hiya.”

“Lord, I …”

“No more of that Lord shit. I am sick and tired of being nice. I have had it up to here!” He lifts his hand as far over his head as he can reach, then breaks into a coughing fit. “Do this, do that. Die for people and all for what? Do you know how bad it sucks to die?”

“Can’t say that I do. I see enough of it, though.”

“Well it ain’t
no
cakewalk, junior. Ever had nails driven into your flesh? Trust me, you don’t want that. No one wants that shit. Hurts like hell. Like fucking hell!”

“What happened to your eye?” A big blue bruise stretches up the side of his head. His left eye is swollen partially shut. It gives him a mean
squint.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Chunks of the building crumble and fall into the valley. They slide down the side, dislodging other rocks as they go. The remaining lights flicker as power wanes in the building. Death looks up at the tilted ceiling, wondering if it is about to collapse on them. Now that everything is different, he is pretty sure he can be killed. Maybe that is the answer. Maybe he can seek solace in oblivion. With the dead walking, no one to collect their souls and the only man capable of putting things right standing in front of him looking like the world pissed on him … again … well, he is pretty much convinced that everything is fucked.

“So what now?”

“Now? We get out of this forsaken place and do something I have wanted to do for a couple of thousand years.”

“Have a drink?” Death chuckles.

“For starters. Then I want to kick some ass.”

“Road trip!” Death smiles for the first time in several thousand years.

The Demons of Hell
78
are
Unleashed
upon the World

They slip silently from the pit more quickly than human eyes can see. They scatter once they feel the warm dry air through the holes in their shells and realize they have stumbled into freedom. They speed through back alleys and seedy bars, then slow down and rest. Their square shells lower to cover their large callous feet. Their shells are square and seven to eight feet tall. Most humans foolishly regard them as extra-large refrigerator boxes.

Large circular holes dot the shells, some high and some low and, of course, some right around the middle.
 
Some holes have variously colored worn stars painted around them. Other holes are set in the center of big faded lips. Within minutes, all of the glory hole demons of Hell 78 are free from Hades and scattered across the world to prey on a very, very sinful mankind.

One twirls at breakneck speed into the middle of a large herd of elephants in India. The group of Mahouts responsible for keeping the beasts clutter around the large box-shaped demon, completely unaware of its hellish origin and intent. They rub the smooth surface of the demon’s shell, and it vibrates softly under their touch. The lonely Mahouts need no words to explain the holes. The lips painted around them and the soft, sensual cooing
 
sounds from within say enough. Three of them fish their limp pricks out of their robes. Others protest, but the men stick their dicks into the darkness of the holes.

All three men moan and groan, lost in the throes of incredible pleasure. Their howls of euphoria startle the elephants, and they trumpet and stomp in place, some even rearing back on their hind legs. The men who chose not to partake argue about the star-painted holes. One gets on his knees and peers into the darkness. Without warning, a giant maroon cock thrusts from the box and through the kneeling man’s head with an explosion of brains and bone. The demon cock pierces the man’s skull, and his lifeless body hangs limply from the throbbing demon dong.

The other two abstainers back up screaming, exciting the elephant herd into a stampede. The three men with their dicks in the glory holes try to pull them free, but sharp teeth sink into the flesh of their hard-ons. The mouths tear and bite at the men’s privates and tug them into the holes. The men scream and fight, but eventually all three are snapped in half as the mouths inside the shell eat them, dicks first.

The remaining two Mahouts run in circles, trying to calm the massive animals. One steps in the wrong direction and is crushed to pulp by a big bull elephant, and the other Mahout is trampled under the herd as they rumble toward their home. The rampaging beasts stampede through the village, stomping every person and building flat in a matter of seconds. Left alone in the dusty field, the glory hole demon shudders and spins off somewhere else in a blur.