All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
We All Go to Hell
After lunch I returned to my secretarial job. The office was plain white, no windows. A couple feet away from my desk was the dark mahogany door to my boss’ office.
The phone rang, I sat at my desk and answered, “Hello this is Brandi for Lucifer, and he’ll help for only the small price of a soul!”
“No, Mr. Cruise, you can’t sell your soul again for another hit movie.”
I listened to his reasoning; it went along the line of how he needed to show everyone that he doesn’t care that his wife left him.
“Look your transaction was for you to be a household name because of your movies, Risky Business did that…There is no but you only have one soul…No Tom this is hell we don’t need money, no goodbye.”
The speaker on my desk that my boss calls me on screamed. I mean it actually screamed a thousand terrified screams.
I walk into his office, it is blood red with pictures of him shaking hands with former presidents, senators and celebrities. His desk is huge and black with intricate carvings of people being tortured. The window behind him gives him a clear view of the Fields of Punishment. The black mountains were spewing lava again. Great now I would have to send out more skeletons for clean-up duty.
The man behind the desk looked rather unassuming. His pale skin, black hair and near black eyes he looked more like someone at a rock concert. “Yes, Mr. Hades.”
“What is my one o’clock again?”
“Hitler sir, he is asking once again to be reincarnated,” I said reading off my clipboard. “He is stating that he has changed and will only start a Holocaust against the ‘swag packs’ and since he has procured more followers via Twitter he has to be heard from.”
“Cancel it, my wife is complaining that I don’t spend enough time with her and I’m always working. Apparently she hasn’t heard the phrase about death and taxes.”
“I can’t do that sir; this will be the second time you’ve cancelled on him.”
“Dammit are you or are you not the best secretary on Earth?”
“Yes sir but—“
“And did I not torture your country with giant spiders to torture you so you would commit suicide and become my secretary?”
“Yes sir, I still remember the spiders and the way they seemed to be able to look in my soul.” I shuddered.
“Then cancel the meeting. I am the King of Hell!”
“Yes sir,” I said resigned.
“Good and send some skeletons to clean-up the lava, I don’t want it to ruin my highway.”
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.