The Sergons

Log-fire Treehouse:

Neither fragile nor practical, but logical. Either way the two sauntered out of the ever-burning bonfire, they had to devise fair reasoning for their departure. Currently: Marge stood weary of their escape by the grand golden gate crossing from the two realms, Ned stood ironically a fool trying to bribe the gate keeper; the conclusive slam of his sceptre to release them finally. However, both knew it would take more than a measly sum of his coin. As, the gate keeper, nor owned by Satan or God, was a hard one to persuade— his mine encased in a din of self-indulgent acts. Incidentally, he was masticating a bite from a well-structured salami sandwich: baguette finely cut, salami carefully placed, condiments symmetrically sweetening the bite, vegetables the season to texture. "Right," a boisterous slurp and squelch of the meal, "you're telling me," another one, hyperbolic for effect, "you expect your pathetic coin to get you through. HELL—" A spit of salami all over the pain-bringer's face, "your engraved face barely hit the mark compared to your pal up stairs! Have you seen that beard, my god," a flamboyant flicker of a squeal, "he could hammer my metal any day, if you know what I'm saying? HAHA— Oh... fuck... sorry... give me a..." choking on a thick strand of salami, his saliva sprayed; his face tensed and swelled red; his sceptre breaking from his grip. Sceptre dropped and the man choking, a sad excuse for Satan snapped his gargantuan fingers for a clap of a thunder strike and an appearance of the sceptre in his hands. Disbelief led Marge to a freeze— from the fact a sandwich had freed her from hell. She couldn't move. But, she needn't as all was revealed as Ned slammed the rod for a climax of... confetti? "You're kidding me..."

"Haha! You actually fell for it... I can't— I'm— and what if I'd trapped that shit? I would've killed Satan. I would've killed Satan!" he said, wheezing a joker to the scene. Unable to contain the fit, he actually began choking on the sandwich. A comical twist the two were fine with.

"You're rude. I thought you were neutral." Marge pointed out, meanwhile the inept Doorman swallowing the row of coarse coughs.

"Of course I'm neutral; I pick whatever mood I want to portray!"

"And you chose to be a fool..." Ned added with a sigh.

"Yes!"

"Well you see, we just want to go back home, either way!... so, why can't we?"

The gatekeeper grimaced aback Into a woeful mope. "Yea, well, I was just joking, but I've had it. That was the last straw... laughing at me like that... tch..." whining, he cuddled up against his now enlarging remains of a footlong. "Only food can save me now..."

"Hold on, we never laughed. Either way, your only purpose is to open a bloody gate. So just do it already." Snapped the man of red.

"... my..." gulping a truck ton of carbs and protein, colossal he stretched— now a looming silhouette, "my only purpose... huh..." offence was clear; the sandwich was being rapped in foil with a scowl. Fiercely chucking the sandwich into giant Tupperware. "MY PURPOSE!... aha..." his eyes struggled, yet eventually darted into the fiery pits surrounding the centred stretch of rock. "Oh, whatever... just go through," diverting down to normal size, the sandwich following as he Olympian shot-putted it twelve miles into lava. Conveniently, he did just open the gate. 

Howbeit, they couldn't understand why, yet both the escapists, even Satan himself, felt a pit of guilt arise.

 "Oh, I-I'm sorry..." Marge maternally cooed.

"Yea, um, I'm sorry? We didn't mean to laugh..." He gritted, narrowing his eyes at his cowering.

"No!... you don't care..." The Gatekeeper - turned Olympian - added, knowing the two cared.

"Mhm... sounds about right! Well! Let's go!"

"No, Ned, we can't just leave him here. He's a wreck!"

"He's trying to deceive, Marge... the gate. It's open. Let's go! See! Ooh! Light!"

"Mrgh..." going back towards the sobbing super-being, tranquil and motherly as always, tone crackled in tradition, "what's wrong, Mr. Doorman?"

"Nee-hee-hee..." His sinister child-like ignorance rung out, as pillars arose a parallel either side and the gate shut seemingly conclusively as chains encased it back. "Deceived! Got you and Satan himself!" The pillars set alight and beamed a signal. It appeared to be a calling for his disgraced fodder of imps and angels, or as he liked to bellow: "my aberrations! Seize the fools!"

"Marge, what did I say?"

"I know, I just—"

The clown interjected, "DIE! DIE-DIE-DIE!" Smooth. 

Beyond: obelisks lit up as more of his aberrations swarmed out. The army was edging closer and he was just crying ecstatically, as he grew once more, slower, and their surroundings took perilous damage. This whole strip of rock seemed as though it was about to erode to the fires fuel; the gate seemed to be clattering and burning brighter, it was their chance to rush out. "Marge! Come on!" Hereafter, Ned unsheathed a mighty longsword, with a familiar woman's severed head attatched. The armada of controlled evil charged faster. "Come at, you abominations! Howdalee-fucking-didlee!" Cataclysmic light and destruction was heard; the scream of the gatekeeper echoed within the din... Freedom, they had escaped.