By Anthony Miller
Disgusted with God's plan for Judgment Day, devil has surrender his task and left Hell in prefer of a quiet retirement in Washington, D.C. yet lifestyles on the earth is hard for an ex-angel with a brief fuse and no impulse keep an eye on. whilst a parking attendant mysteriously bursts into flames and a fats woman results in low-Earth orbit, devil reveals that he all of sudden has loads of neighbors on the FBI. Worse, there are indicators that the governor of Texas has by some means long gone forward and began up the tip of the realm with out him. The Prince of Darkness heads for the Lone famous person nation, the place he tangles with a megalomaniacal televangelist, joins the Militant Arm of the yank Geriatrics organization, and wields the Flaming Stick of Divine Justice at a Jesus impersonator referred to as Festus. via all of it, something is apparent: a person has to place a cease to Judgment Day. Now, having spent millennia attempting to damage where, the satan could be the world's purely hope.
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Additional info for What Would Satan Do?
It’s immoral. Taking bets on how many deaths there are going to be in my current case? What’s that going to do for my reputation? I curse everyone roundly. So irate am I that I actually march out of the tavern without picking up a beer and I can’t remember the last time I did that. I need to get to the Mermaid to recover the pendant as quickly as possible, so I set off at a brisk pace, promising myself that I’ll have more than a few harsh words for Makri and Gurd when I get back. Youthful dwa dealers hover round the alleyway that leads to the Mermaid.
Nothing happens. No wagons come. As Casax the Brotherhood boss sees his headquarters starting to disappear in flames, he becomes agitated. He screams for his men to bring water from neighbouring houses, waving his fists to encourage them. The way the flames are taking hold, I doubt that this is going to do much good. Normally I’d enjoy seeing the Mermaid burning to the ground. However, it strikes me that it’s hardly helpful to my immediate purposes. I approach Casax. He doesn’t acknowledge me, being too busy trying to save the tavern to pay any attention to an unwelcome Investigator.
The heat mingles with the smell of rancid ale and burning dwa. Thazis smoke drifts over the tables. The wooden beams overhead are blackened with age. The prostitute who patrols the area with red ribbons in her hair strives vainly to interest the largely inebriated clientele. There’s a woman on the floor who looks like she might be dead. I shake my head. This is about as low as life gets. No civilised person would visit this tavern. “Thraxas! ” I come here occasionally. Mainly in the line of business.
What Would Satan Do? by Anthony Miller