Hell Of A Guy

These fucking amateurs, Eddie thought derisively, have no idea what they're doing.

Eddie was in Hell. No, not Michigan. Hell, as in the biblical place of damnation and endless suffering. And sure, Eddie had known he was going to hell from the time he skinned his first linebacker at age 14- he had prepared himself for an eternity spent burning as he progressed from librarians to underpaid and misinformed museum tour guides . . . he had a pain kink, anyway. He was prepared for eternal torture that outstripped anything that he could do. But, Jesus Christ on a pogo stick he was not expecting this.

He had to give the devil his due, because this kind of torture was chosen specifically for Eddie. To be witness to this level of incompetence . . . ! Watching the demon next to him just wildly swing its mallet into the hands and arms of the screeching person next to him, without any sort of care and consideration, was offensive to him as a former mass murderer.

Finally, when the demon next rock slab over, just threw away its tool and grabbed a giant rock to crush its victim's skull, killing him swiftly, Eddie broke. He could no longer stay silent in the face of shitty work ethic, and glared at his own demon. "Hey, stop for a second."

His demon balked, spluttering, "ScHWA-"

"Uh-huh," Eddie cut it off and turned to bellow at the demon doing a jig around the reforming body of his victim. "HEY! DANCING BALL SACK!"

The demon he spoke so boldly to was abruptly taken out of its chaotic revelry, shocked that a human could have the presence of mind to speak whilst being so deliciously tortured. "SCHEESKROWOO-"

"Shut the fuck up." Eddie, again, interrupted and disturbed the demons in this particular torture cell. His own demon had to look down at the hammer and last two rusty nails it was still holding. It tested their sharpness as Eddie continued. "What the fuck are you even doing over there? I really thought torture would be instinctual for demons, apparently, you need to be signed up for a course at Capella U, you fucking waste of sin."

Two demons stared blankly at a mad man, lightly peppered with nails. The only sound was the roar of Hell's flames, strained breathing, and the whimpers of the newly resurrected victim of Hammer Time, as their brain finally reformed.

Eddie wasn't surprised when his own demon smashed his skull in with its own hammer.

When Eddie reformed later, he was in the middle of getting his femur sawed through, and the other shmuck was getting stabbed over and over. This time, it took Eddie a little longer to form his thoughts and get together a game plan- Eddie was a masochist, sure, but getting sawed was really pushing it.

Eddie figured that this time, gentle coaching might work better.

"Would you believe me if I said the liver is one of the most painful places you can hit?" Eddie croaked, copper flooding his tongue, as he watched the two demons freeze once more. Hammer looked at him again, bugged out lamp eyes creasing in incredulity that Eddie was speaking once more.

"You lose nothing from trying." Eddie cajoled the creature. Hammer looked to Eddie's demon, who merely grumbled and shrugged. Figuring that, yes, there was nothing to lose from trying out the suggestion, the demon punched its victim's lower hip. Though the hit did produce a shout of pain, Eddie knew with certainty that it wasn't a liver shot.

"No, no . . ." Eddie sighed, and explained, "the liver is to the right, just under the chest?" The demon struck again, and the higher pitch of the scream let Eddie know it was on target. "Now doesn't that sound much better?"

"Please, stop," the weak moans irritated Eddie. "Please-"

"Hey Hammer Time, have you ever pulled out someone's teeth?" Eddie interrupted. "And, you can continue. I can multitask." Eddie assured his demon, head craned back to nod encouragingly at it. His demon just dropped its saw and held up its hands.

Eddie had never realized teaching could be so rewarding. There was some resistance to learning about human anatomy, but the key ended up being that they were visual learners. Once they saw how simple yet incredibly valuable learning about the joints of humans, and how sensitive they were, the demons slowly warmed to him.

Eventually they released Eddie from his chains so that he could better tutor the demons in the best ways to hurt people. To make it fair, Eddie insisted that his demon also practice its newly learned skills on him, still. Being so willing to endure torture- nearly self inflicted- cemented their loyalty to Eddie, which . . . may or may not be a problem.

Eddie realized that a little too late though. It only occurred to him when, midway through having his chest cut open, he suddenly teleported into a stark white office. He didn't realize it immediately, gasping with pain as blood poured from between his ribs and under his throat . . . but when his skin started to naturally knit together once more, a flicker of lucidity alerted him to this new, uncertain incident.

The man that was seated behind the steel desk was . . . nondescript. Mousy brown hair combed into an absurdly neat part, pale skin, dark eyes, and a boring grey suit, pressed and neat. But, it was like he melted along the edges. Like he wasn't seeing what he was . . . or what he wasn't meant to see.

"Eddie Harlow?" The man spoke, and his voice was . . . it gave Eddie some sensation almost like tinnitus in his ear. Eddie grimaced, but nodded his head.

The man smiled, and Eddie shivered. "Hi, thanks for being here. I'd like to talk to you about your options . . ."

Thanks for reading the second story in the Wicked Carousel flash fiction set! Part 1 is here if you'd like to read it- like and share the story around, and Happy Hauntings!