Tevun-Krus #94 - 10th Anniversary Special

Damned - A Short Story by @sleepingdraco

Damned

By sleepingdraco

On the one-year anniversary of my death the Devil arrived to collect my soul wearing red leather pants and a bustier. I wasn't surprised. Well, I was surprised she was such a knockout and that it took her so long to fetch me.

My soul had remained suspended in the seedy intergalactic bar where my bookie's henchman had shot me. I had let my guard down for one second too long in the presence of that smelly eight-arm weapon-yielding alien. And let's face it, I had it coming. Both from my bookie and the devil. I was a real bastard.

I thought I'd go immediately to hell. But when they dragged my corpse away, I hovered there unseen, watching another batch of space gangsters immediately seat themselves at the booth. My brains were still oozing down the wall behind them. After that, day after day passed, all the same. I watched thousands of thugs from the far reaches of the universe gather and plan innumerable evil doings. It all blurred together.

When she arrived the music and din of conversation stopped. No one breathed. The temperature plummeted as the place became frigid with fear. But one look at the Devil and I couldn't help but feel aroused. I immediately had fantasies of getting tied to the wall and tortured, surrounded by fire for the rest of eternity.

She didn't mess around either. The bartender handed her a steaming shotglass with tentacles wriggling out of it. She slammed the drink, grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door.

"Hussle, buster. We're behind schedule," she said.

The surprisingly junky spaceship she flew sat parked illegally. Despite my impending damnation, I felt the electric thrill of excitement. I was finally going somewhere in the company of one damn hot babe.

The Devil pulled me into the cockpit and began flipping switches in preparation for takeoff. I looked around for any other helpers, demons, droids, or other minions, but she seemed to work alone. Soon we had left the bar and dingy planet far behind. I finally got up the nerve to speak.

"So is it far to hell?"

She didn't answer. At first I thought maybe the Devil couldn't hear me. She continued to focus on the ship, make adjustments to the dials. I studied her face. Up close I could see the faint signs of age. She looked tired, deeply worn, but that didn't detract from her incomprehensible beauty. My eyes were drawn to her ample cleavage. I found myself wondering if she'd be up for a shag. Maybe in return for some extra punishment.

"I'm not shagging you," she stated flatly without looking up from the console.

At last, satisfied with the coordinates, she leaned back and grabbed a beer out of a small fridge behind the captain's seat. She kicked off her sparkly stilettos and put a rather cute pair of feet up on the dash. She took a long swig and watched me eye the beer. She grinned. "I'm the Devil. I don't share my beer either."

Something started beeping and she jumped into action flipping a few switches. Then she relaxed again. "You're a right shyster," she said. "But you aren't going to hell."

"No?" I asked, surprised.

"Nope," she replied. "Real estate got too expensive."

That shut me up. It wasn't the answer I was expecting. Too expensive? I sat pondering numerous questions. Who charges rent in hell? If the Devil wasn't there anymore, who was? Were there regulations on how many souls per square feet could safely be kept in hell? Finally, I had to ask. "So where are you taking me Ms. Devil?"