Standard Disclaimer: The show, Brimstone, and all characters in it, including
             Ezekiel Stone and the Devil, belong to Fox and not us. We have just borrowed
             them for a while and will put them back when we're done. Honest! We are poor
             as ragged churchmice and what's left belongs to the Universal Unconscious. Sue
             at your own risk. We're so broke we can't even pay attention.

             Lunch
             by LadySerez and LadyRhian
             LadySerez@aol.com and LadyRhian@aol.com

             Deep within the caverns of Hell, a bell clanged, sounding with a loud and
             raucous clatter. The sound of trudging feet came in its wake as a group of
             sinners came together for a very special reason.

             The secretaries of Hell were coming.

             It was time for that much-beloved part of their day, a time venerated and
             cherished even in the world above. In a word, Lunch.

             Forty-five minutes of bad food, good coffee and all the latest gossip, dished
             with a relish that was known to turn even Satan himself pale as snow.

             The cook perked up his head and then winced. Secretaries... may they be
             damned, he thought. Then remembered that they were. He yelled to the demon
             stirring the soup (it looked like a cross between tomato soup and gunpowder...
             and tasted like it, too.) to hurry up and pour the soup into the slurry.

             It was bad enough that imps kept stealing the silverware, chairs were bolted
             to the floor. But if the food was late.. Secretaries. One wouldn't think to
             look at them that they held such power. The cook hadn't, not until he'd
             displeased Mammon and gotten sent down here. The hellish secretaries had told
             him to keep the food available for their lunch. If he didn't, they'd send him
             over to Beelzubub. *That* demon liked to do things with his whips even de Sade
             hadn't thought of even when he'd been alive.

             "Damn! Out of spoons again! How do they expect us to eat soup without a
             spoon?" one of the secretaries groused. "What am I supposed to do? Cut it with
             a knife and fork?"

             "You could always have the special," one of the others replied.

             "Mmm..." the first secretary sounded less than pleased. "Raw Oysters or
             Scungili. What a choice."

             "Yeah. What a choice. Live squid that squim all over the table, or oysters
             that stick their tongues out at us right before they go down the hatch." The
             third secretary spotted a imp and went after it, emerging victoriously with a
             full set of silverware--fork, knife, and spoon. Ok, so the spoon was seriously
             bent...

             A fourth secretary paled. "If you get the Scungili, make sure it's properly
             dead first. Last time I got it, I had to fight it off. Worse than my boss."

             "Oh, you're Belial's, aren't you? Boy, do I feel sorry for you! Does he still
             have that tail-sex fetish?"

             "You mean it gets worse?"

             "Honey, down here it *always* gets worse."

             "Trust me on this one, sweetie. Mammon's even worse. At least I don't have to
             worry about him groping me now. He's *groping* that red-haired girl in
             accounting. Wonder if anyone's told him the girl is actually a boy in drag..."

             "Nah. Mammon wouldn't listen, anyway." The first secretary slurped the soup
             from the bowl. "He's so full of it that every time he speaks it shoots out
             from the ears. It's hell cleaning up after a meeting."

             "Wonder if anyone's told him that Ashteroth is laying pipe with the same she-
             male. I guess not."

             "He is?" Ashteroth's secretary said. "No wonder he's been preening. The Devil
             actually asked Miriam the other day if there was something wrong with
             Ashteroth."

             "Oh, I bet that list could fill a book! Several books, if you ask me."

             "Did you hear about Stone?" One of the secretaries grinned. "I get all the
             sent back people. They're all either screaming mad or resolved to their fate.
             Poor Benedict, though. I let him keep the book."

             "Stone, Stone, Stone...I hear the Devil screaming about him at least five
             times a day. It's like Stone lives to aggravate the Big Hooch." A slow grin
             spread over the secretary's face. "It's so much fun, even through it means I
             have to go looking for the cat-o-nine-tails whips afterwards for him.."

             "Did Sally Ann come back yet? I know Mammon only misses her because she's so
             potted she doesn't catch on that he's always dropping stuff and asking her to
             bend over and pick it up so he can snatch a glimpse of her panties."

             "She's back." The secretary took a big swing of the whiskey he kept hidden
             under the table. "Screaming bloody murder, if I may add. Mammon was right
             there, arms wide, 'Come here, baby. Kiss-kiss'."

             "You'd know why that's all he does if you ever met his wife." The blonde
             shivered. "I wouldn't want to be the the chippie she caught him with. I like
             having a face."

             "Did you hear about Azarel? Got caught with his angelic lover. And both their
             pants were down. The Devil went bananas, screaming about how he'd beat
             Azarel's ass...you know why?" One of the secretaries lit up her cigarette. It
             spluttered and died. She looked at it in disgust and flickered it away. "He
             knows that if Beelzubub finds out about Azarel's little Key Lime pie, there's
             going to be Heaven to pay."

             All the secretaries shivered at the mention of Mammon's wife. "Oh, no. I hide
             under the desk whenever I see her coming. *I* like having my balls and penis
             intact, thank you."

             "So, do you think she's caught on about the redhead from accounting yet?"

             A angry scream emanated through the caverns. Chips of rock flew from the walls
             and ceiling, adding a layer of dust to the food. "Sounds like it," one of the
             secretaries remarked grimly. "I hope she doesn't splatter blood on the
             paperwork again. I just got done cleaning up from the last time."

             "You wish. She *likes* it messy. Says it sends a message. What message?" the
             secretary leaned down and blew the dust off. She noticed the octupus moving
             and stabbed it with her pen.

             "They just come back, if less intact."

             "And thank Satan for that. Imagine the cleaning we'd have to do if all those
             bodies just laid around and got incarnated again elsewhere."

             "I don't even want to begin to think about the paperwork *that* would entail."
             She snorted and went on, dryly. "This is your 2,374th time before the court.
             My, you do have a talent for pissing people off, don't you?"

             "And imagine the bills! Remember the guy who did Stone's coat? He's due here
             in, what, about 3 years. Heart attack. Committed adultery with, get this, his
             wife's sister."

             The secretaries stared at the one who had said this. Then laughed. "You know,"
             said one laughing secretary, "Would Maury do a show on this? Or Jerry
             Springer? I love that man!"

             "Just wait... he'll be down here soon enough."

             "Quite. Don't you think 2,374 times is, you know, a little too *excessive*?
             And imagine how many file cabinets we'd need."

             "And how much more chaos those imps could cause! I'm already missing three
             files today. I swear, the next one I see, I'm nailing to the door with my
             staple gun."

             "Staple gun? I have a bazooka. Makes a nice hole in their backsides. Want to
             try it out?"

             "You do? Great! I might just use it on more than the imps..."

             "We got a new shipment of those, "My parents died and went to Hell and all I
             got was this lousy T-shirt" shirts again. I wish Belial would stop ordering
             them. Who are we going to sell them to? I still have 6 cases left from the
             last order!"

             "Maybe the Devil'd give them to Stone? Get him to sell those, you know, in his
             spare time!"

             "Are you kidding? He couldn't give those things away. Maybe we could let the
             Devil wear them."

             "Mr. Suave? You have to be kidding! He dresses so well."

             "And so quickly, too!"

             The secretaries turned on the one who had spoken. "You know something? Tell!"

             "Tell! Or I'll unload that Chinese poet on you and let *him* try to finish the
             last line of his bad poem!"

             The woman quickly acquiesced. "It all goes back to Stone. The last time the
             Devil came back... well, let's just say the problem isn't what's eating him,
             but what's *not* eating him... The Boss always did have good taste. Nice butt,
             too."

             "You mean.." all the secretaries held their breaths. "You mean the Devil has a
             hard-on for Stone?" One said in disbelief. "Him?"

             "The originial Mr. I Do Not Have Feelings?"

             "Well, he has them now. Or, one very large feeling." She mimed a bulge at the
             groin.

             "Oh man! You know what that means? Unless we get the Big Man laid, he's going
             to give us a hard time!"

             "Yeah, but what can we do? It's not like we have any influence over Stone...
             not that I'd mind having it if I did..."

             "Me either. I'd like to get my hands on that butt of his... hoola, hoola!"

             "That's not all I'd like to get my hands on! You should have seen him when he
             got the tattoos. Very yummy." The woman sighed. "Well, at least I'll have my
             memories."

             "Memories... ah, memories. It's all we have here."

             "Don't tell me--you're getting depressed again. You know what that
             means--electroshock."

             "And Beelzebub with those rubber gloves of his."

             "He *loves* using them. Don't give him a excuse..."

             "Come on girls, I know if we think about it, we can find a way to keep the
             boss-man happy. And ourselves in one piece."

             Deep in the caverns, the bell clanged again. Lunch was over, and so, for the
             moment, was the gossip.

             The secretaries dumped their garbage into the lava pit and filed out. The last
             one out, a blonde, threw a look back at the cavern. "We'll find a way..." A
             joyfully malicious grin flitted over her face as she followed her fellow
             workers back to their offices.

             The End


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