HELL: 9

“Cloots and I are getting a drink. Want to tag along?”

“Cloots can drink?”

“Can drink more’n you. We’re headed to The Devil’s Dunce.”

She passed on the hell beer and got a glass of water. Even the water burns in hell. Like the tingling of seltzer, but with edges on the bubbles. Carbonation that’s really a slow boil.

Everyone in the bar was ghastly, grisly, beastly, or a combination of all three.

“You were haunting that church, I could feel it.”

“That was the first time I’d ever seen it, though!”

“Don’t matter. The only ingredient for haunting is desire.”

Remy. She was easily recognizable from her humanity and the way she wore her hair. Two bored-looking slate demons stood behind her, scanning the crowd. She got up, brushed off her keepers, and headed for the back of the bar. The clown took her chances and followed. She disappeared behind a corner. It was the bathrooms. The clown opened the door, but the stalls were empty.

“You’re not very good at this.”

Remy was right behind her smiling. She pushed the clown against the tile wall slowly, her face close enough that she could feel her smoky breath and see the tiny clear hairs on her face covered with ash.

Remy/Remedios was clearly down to clown.

“And you were pretty shite back in the city, ditching your troupe like that. You’re Remy?”

“I guess? This red bitch says she’s my mom, keeps calling me ‘Remedios.’ It’s getting my confused. She goes on and on about how I’m possessed. I have stone bodyguards. It’s weird shit.”

The simple clown wanted to kiss her at that moment. Competition back on Earth thought she was, this person felt like home in Hell. The clown was a slutty oaf suffering as best as she could. And if she was in hell, she was going to have a good time.

She touched Remy’s head, breathing the sootiness in. Her numb nerve endings filled with electricity and became nerve beginnings.

“Let me show you this trick I learned.”

Remy leaned in closer. A bizarre musk, she smelled like sulfur, of this place. Running her hands through Remy’s short hair she felt two little nubs above the temples. Had she always been this way? Surely Llúcia would’ve mentioned Remy was a little demonic.

Remy opened her mouth and ran the clown through with a tongue. Clown went weak and wild in her arms. Her viscera felt fuzzy and golden. The taste of yesterday’s fireworks going poof, poof, poof...

The clown pulled away and coughed out a “yikes!”

Remy was exhaling thick mentholated smoke, the glow of lava could be seen down her throat.

“Call that my… magma opus. Pretty rad, huh?”

Steps out in the hall.

“Listen–Come to the exorcism feast tonight. I can get you an invitation. The ‘Queen’ likes jesters, I heard. I’m sure you’ll think of a way to get us out of Hell by then.”

And Remy was gone.

She was a good kisser. Alone again, the clown’s mouth was a temple of spit in a burning land. Time to drink with the dog and burn a couple hours.

And like that, she was flung from one place to the next.


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