The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole! (1) (45 page)

They’ve been walking toward the big red guy for a while. What looked like a close landing site turned out to be pretty far away once they were on sanda firma. This close up, Satan’s ass looks enormous on a geographical scale, like they are walking toward a pair of mountains with people spewing in instead of lava spewing out.

All the dust is playing havoc with Death’s allergies. The stuff has infiltrated Death’s hoodie, and he isn’t too happy about it. It itches, makes him want to strip and find a nice pool of water to jump into. Or maybe a pile of bodies he can roll around in. The smell of desiccated ground fills
his nose over the stink of puke.

Jesus doesn’t seem to mind too much. He’s probably used to it after spending all that time hanging out in the desert.

The earth rolls and shakes again. Death and Jesus hold onto each other and then dive for the ground. A fresh clump of people and demons fall down the long chasm. The humans scream all the way down; the demons try to snatch people out of the air and devour them before they hit.

A cloud of dust rises so high into the air that Death is reminded of a sand storm. It passes as they walk, but he gets a fresh coat of the stuff on every itching inch of his body. It’s irritating, but the walk is doing him some good, as is the ground tossing and turning. It is sobering him up. He is Death, but he is going to meet the man. Well, the other man.

Jesus appears unperturbed and marches on like a crusader minus the shiny armor.

Another quake shakes them to their knees, and Death realizes that Satan is struggling to get up. He shakes sand off his massive body and turns his head to glare at the approaching men. One of the bastard’s rotting eyeballs is the size of the car they drove off the cliff.

“Fucker is huge!” Death mutters and looks at the blade of his scythe and then back at the big red guy.

“Just hold the fuck up!” Jesus roars. He has a bottle of vodka in one hand and a can of Red Bull in the other. He chugs one, then the other and shakes his head. Death is still buzzed, but he is beginning to think that now might be a good time to hit that vodka bottle again.

“Goddamn this stuff is good!” Jesus says to himself. His words are slurred and come out slowly.

Death has his eye on the giant box that is coming together before their eyes. It is huge and getting bigger by the second. He grins at it, can’t help
himself
. Now that is some old-school shit.
Just the kind of thing to temp the Ddevil into hauling his ass out of the sand.
There are more boxes arriving every second. They fall off the cliff and hit the ground, bounce into the air and then stack themselves up.

Satan breaks his gaze away from the box for a second to consider the men walking toward him. “Not another pair of losers,”
 
he sighs in a voice that rumbles and shakes the ground.

“’Who the fuck are you calling loser, you red asshole?”
 

“Red asshole’s back there, where you should be heading. I don’t have time for any more visits from secret agents, so just fuck off.”

“Look at me!”
 
Jesus’s voice comes out loud and clear, and it seems that every eye in the world turns to look in his direction. Even the people falling into Satan’s ass spin to stare at the man as they scream.

“Well if it isn’t the mad hatter himself. Sup, J-man?”
The Devil smiles.
“Wanna blowjob? I can get some of the chicks from up on the road
to come take care of you. How does that sound? Maybe a boy, since I couldn’t tempt you the last time. Remember that Syrian broad with the legs that went all the damn way up?”

“I remember the desert, and I remember the longing. I remember being scared, and I also remember being pretty pissed off when your guys staked me to a cross and left me to rot.”

“That was daddy. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I may have whispered a few things to that Judas guy, just to unbalance him, but it didn’t take much. He fell for a few coins and the chance to have his name live alongside yours. Neat trick, that, giving people what they want.”

The massive box continues taking on a life of its own above the desert. It rises out of the sand and floats a few feet off the ground. Death can’t take his eyes off the thing. It is massive, perpetually shifting and changing, and it has three gigantic pulsing holes in it.

“That was the old me. This is the new. So what are you going to do?” Satan challenges. “The Apocalypse didn’t go as planned, and we seem to be the two biggest deities around. So how do we handle it?”

“Yeah. Ain’t that some shit? I’m sure you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Nah. It all went to hell when an old lady killed my son. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to bring him into the world? Then he gets a knitting needle in his eye before he can come into his full power. Shame.”

Jesus nods.

“Say, who is tall dark and handsome next to you?”

“Oh Death. He came along to help out.”

“No fucking shit!” Satan squints at the man in the dark hoodie. “Death, I am a HUGE fan. HUGE! Can I get your autograph before I stuff you in my ass?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Satan squirms a little more, and a massive arm unearths itself. Once the ground stops shaking, Death moves in and lowers his scythe. There isn’t a lot of room, what with all the screaming faces bubbling on the surface of his skin, people and demons both that writhe beneath a layer of red. Death moves the blade up and down a few times, and the demonic flesh sizzles with a smell like burned chicken. He steps back and examines his work.

Death waz here!

“Thanks, man!” Satan smiles and a giant spider demon creeps out of his mouth and scuttles toward Death. Death may be drunk, but he has made this move countless times in the past. Not so much in the last few days, but plenty before that. He slices down and then rips the giant scythe sideways, which leaves the demon still moving, but in two pieces that pass him by. Flaming blood and demon guts splatter across the white sand and
Death, but they leave no mark upon Death or his clothing.

“You just killed one of my spider demons! Dude, calm down. He was probably just coming out to high five you, and you swiped him. Bah. Look boys, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a giant box to fuck the shit out of.”

“Wait!” Jesus commands.

“Oh, for your sake!”

“Look Satan, I know we are supposed to fight each other and all, but I think the rules have changed. I’m sick of being everyone’s whipping boy. I’m tired of running around helping people and listening to them
whine
and cry.
I have problems. I have issues
.” He mimics a little girl crying.

“Look dude, if you need relationship advice, just call Dr. Phil. I own him. Tell him I said to give you a freebie or I’ll collect early. Then again, he could be in my ass for all I know.” Satan chuckles, sending shivers through the ground. A fresh group of people falls into his butt, screaming all the way down.

“That’s not what I …” Jesus starts to back up, his hands in the air.

“Nah hold on; he’s probably right here.” Satan reaches back with his free hand. “Just kidding, buddy!”
 

Jesus crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“Ah hell, J-man, just fucking with you.”

“Seriously, Satan, what do we do now?”

“Well here is how I see it. Things have changed. The rules don’t apply. Seals are still intact, and the Horsemen are a mess.” He glances at Death.

Death gives him the finger.

“Go on,”
 
Jesus says.

“Where is the big guy?”

“Meh, haven’t seen him in a while.
Something about starting over in another galaxy with fewer humans.
All he ever talks about is chicken pot pies anyway.”

“Oh yeah. Good call.”

“Yeah. Not a bad idea.” Death nods.

“So here’s my proposition. We just let things run their course. I make this part mine and you go grab another part. Like Europe. The chicks there like their underarms hairy just like the old days.”

“Nice.” Death nods again.

“Hmm,” Jesus says. He fingers the bruise around his eye.

“Seriously. Go build your flock, brainwash a bunch of new people, won’t take long. You know how dumb these idiots are.”

Death nods and chuckles. Why didn’t he think of this earlier?

“Tell them you were busy and didn’t have time to make the Apocalypse. Tell them you’ll reschedule it. They’ll understand.”

Jesus smiles at Satan then spits in his eye. It’s a beauty. He draws deep, nose snort and all, gets a big old mouthful and lets it rip. The green gob of goo flies in a graceful arc that splatters in the malevolent eye of the Prince of Lies himself. Satan blinks and shakes his head.

“That’s for the cock slap!” Jesus roars.

Satan does not look pleased.

“I’ll give you something to think about, buddy. I’ll show you and the world how badly I am going to fuck you.”

The ground shakes and moans as Satan heaves himself out of the earth. Death is pretty impressed that they escaped the crash somehow alive, but he does not want to be picked up and shoved up the red guy’s asshole. No thank you very much.

Jesus grabs him by the shoulder and tugs. They both race away from the scene, stumbling as they duck the falling debris. The earth shifts again, and there is a sucking noise as the Devil comes to his feet. Death risks a glance back and falls on his face. Jesus slows down and comes back for him, but he stops in his tracks as Satan reaches his full height.

It’s not the size, nor the fact that he is standing that freaks them out. Nor the fact that he is as tall as a skyscraper. It’s not the big red legs that shake dust free, and it’s not the globs of people falling, screaming, from his ass.

It’s the fact that Satan has three massive cocks and they are all rising to the occasion.

A blinding flash of light in the distance draws their attention away from the Devil. A silence descends as the entire valley goes from roaring to nothing in a few seconds.

“What the …” Death trails off as a giant mushroom cloud forms over the hills in the direction of Vegas.

To each other, General O’Coddle and Sheriff Smoochole are the only two things that exist in the world. Neither warrior sees the massive glory hole box shaking and cooing at the Lord of Darkness. Neither feels the chill that permeates the air when Death is near, although that could be because Death is shitfaced. And neither feels compelled by the power of Christ—or anyone else—to do anything other than kill each other.

Behind his aviators, Sheriff Smoochole’s eyes are focused on his approaching foe, but his bullets blow gray brains out of soldier skulls and blast yellow kneecaps from rotting legs. The horde tries to press forward, but only General O’Coddle is allowed to advance. The general
smiles,
and his handlebar mustache twitches as a foot-long millipede crawls from his grin and over his stout shoulders. His dead eyes bloat with rage and fury as
his heavy footsteps pound forward. His men are being ripped to shreds with his own guns.

Smoochole clicks empty, and General O’Coddle grins wicked and wide as he dives face first at his stolen Hummer. The g-string-clad sheriff jumps into the air. He tucks his bony knees to his birdlike chest and flips off the Hummer just a pubic hair of an instant before the charging general rams his skull into the vehicle with all his might. The Hummer crumples in half like a melted model toy and rolls across the sand. Satan’s giant hooves step on the rolling Hummer as he moves to embrace the giant glory hole box. Flames erupt from between his hooves, and he screams with a million voices.

Smoochole flips twice more and lands with his pale pancake ass facing what’s left of the zombie horde. The dead soldiers stop as one and moan at the flabby ass cheeks before them.

General O’Coddle watches the explosion before turning back. His men are distracted by the sheriff’s hypnotic flabby ass cheeks. He screams a warning so loud and hard it comes out not as a word, but as black phlegm. It’s too late; Sheriff Smoochole has reloaded his guns. Now he turns on the remaining zombies and sends them back to Hell.