Singed Synapses and Deranged Dendrites

Legion (#legion)

Mr. Beel shook his head. Though not an empathetic soul at heart, he pitied middle school principles all over the world.  He considered them kindred spirits, engaged in a similar damn-foolery trying to make the most of a bunch of misfits. But in this moment he pitied himself more and asked himself why the hell he had decided to go into upper management in the first place.  

"So tell me again why you lost the job," he began.

Immediately a dozen or so of his employees began talking at once. It was as if they all had no filters or self-control. He let the pitch and fervor in the room rise for a moment, until he could stand it no longer.

"Silence!" he shouted. If there was one thing he was good at it was putting on a 'I'm mad as hell, voice you'd better listen' voice. He smiled as the room instantly became so quiet a pin could drop. There was no dad who didn't envy or try to emulate his voice. The one that lets you know you're in deep trouble.

But Mr. Beel needed to get this group back to work and move on with his day. So he pointed to one particularly nasty fellow in the front. "You there," he said. "Tell me slowly how the lot of you wound up in the water and lost the job you were all given."

The fellow looked from side to side just to check if he was indeed the one who had been called on to answer the question. "Gary loves bacon," he said with an impish grin. "Bacon cheeseburgers, bacon bits, bacon wrapped around those fruity things...what are they called..."

"Figs," yelled someone in the back row.

Murmuring and discussion about the virtues of bacon ensued. 

Mr. Beel rubbed his temples. He felt another migraine coming on. 'I've been at this job too long', he murmured to himself. But it was no use, retirement was out of the question. 

"Gary!" yelled Mr. Beel.

After a moment of silence a voice from the back finally answered. "Uh...yes, sir, boss."

"You thought that you might get a bacon cheeseburger out of the deal if you all left your post and inhabited a bunch of swine?"

"He begged Jesus to send us there," yelled a fellow who looked like Rat Fink. One of his co-workers punched him in the mouth to shut him up.

Gary chuckled, he was an ugly one–snaggle toothed with patchy hair all over his body. "Heh, heh," laughed Gary. "I guess so, but maybe it might have been to send someone on a Burger King run...my bad boss. Sorry."

Mr. Beel felt so angry he was seeing red now. He tried to take slow deep breaths for a few seconds like his therapist had taught him and think of a reaction different than what his gut was suggesting–to torture the whole lot forever.

"Ok, Legion," he said in a calm voice that took immense effort. "Take the evening off, and I will give you a new assignment in the morning."

The crowd of demons roared in delight and headed out to the nearest pub to stir up some trouble. 

"Thanks Mr. Beelzebub," yelled Gary as he left. "You're the best boss ever!"

Satan sat back in his chair and continued to take slow deep breaths.