Devil's Brew

(Content Warning: Crude Humor, Mild Language.)

Thick steam filled the great chamber in the Unholy Kingdom as Satan stirred his cauldron. The shadow of his silhouette danced along the blood-soaked walls like a Cirque du Soleil performer. His red skin glistened in the twinkling light of the fiery flames revealing a masculine boulder-like body that was chiseled from stone. Satan’s thick black curvy horns looked like trumpets from a grand orchestra, and his dark fingernails tapped his trident with great fervor as he mixed the ingredients together. His forked tongue darted in and out, eager for a taste of things to come. 

The Devil removed his weapon from the brown liquid and licked the tip like it was soaked with red ichor. “Mm… that’s some good shit!!” 

His deep voice echoed through the chasm alerting his assistant Morty, who came rushing in. Morty was a short gnome-goblin with dark green skin layered with warts and boils. Morty’s grotesque figure would scare most fiends, but Satan took a liking to him when he proved his loyalty by shaving his balls, a task that most evil beings dreaded. Hell is repetition, and Morty became quite skilled in this task. 

“Master, what is wrong?”

Satan looked down upon the evil spawn and kicked him with devilish delight. Morty’s tiny maggot-infested body flew through the air like a flying rodent high on acid and crashed down to the floor several feet away.

“Nothing is wrong, you little worm!” Satan snarled.

The Devil grabbed his black chalice and dipped it into the cauldron. The brown liquid swirled in a counter-clockwise direction for which Satan paid no mind to. He raised the cup to his succulent lips and drank deeply. After a few gulps, the Devil pranced around the chamber like a unicorn who had just lost its virginity.

“I have done it!” he boasted. “This drink will blow everyone’s mind!”

Morty sat up dazed and confused and saw crows flying around his head. “What is it, my master?” 

Satan scowled, grabbed Morty’s neck, and dragged him to the bubbling pot of liquid goodness. “Why don’t you have a taste, my turd-smelling friend?” 

Morty’s yellow eyes screamed in terror as Satan dipped his skull into the pot. After ten seconds of watching squabbles of bubbles float to the surface, he yanked Morty out and slammed him back to the ground.

The flying crows swirling around Morty’s head were now drunk and crashed into each other. Morty shook his head and swatted the air.

“Well, what do you think of this brew?” asked Satan. “I think it’s my best tea yet!”

Licking his lips, Morty thought for a second and uttered, “To be honest, I think it tastes a lot like Lipton’s tea.” 

“What!?” raged Satan. “Who is this Lipton? I will kill him ten times over!” 

Morty rose and proclaimed, “I believe Sir Thomas Lipton created this particular drink in 1871 and is long dead. For all I know, he may reside in one of our circles!” 

Satan growled in protest. “No matter… I will proceed as planned.”

“What do you propose, my master?” sniveled Morty.

“I will mass market this drink to every living soul and make a fortune!”

“But… what need of money would suit your purposes?”

“Do NOT question my needs, ball shaver!” Satan slapped Morty with the back of his crimson hand and yelled, “This is Hell, and money is the root of all evil!! Do I not deserve to have more cash to pleasure myself with?!” 

Morty rubbed his leathery face and replied, “You are the one and only great destructor, and yes, you deserve everything!”

“I appreciate your condescending remarks, but if I am to do this, I’ll need a great name for this tea.” 

Satan grabbed his black chalice and filled it once more. He sat down on his throne of skulls and contemplated while sipping the golden nectar.

“What about Devil’s Brew, my master?”

“NO! That’s a horrible name!” roared Satan. “I need a catchy name that will lure the stupid humans into buying my product. Hmm… I’ve got it! What do you think about Devil’s Brew?!”

Morty contorted his face and mumbled, “That’s a fantastic idea.” 

“Yes, yes… I thought so!” Satan boasted. “Work must begin immediately. Ready the troops for production, and before you leave, grab the razor, you sniveling toad! I feel some scruffiness that needs attending!”  

Morty rolled his eyes. “Right away, my master…”  

Over the next several months, the underworld was ass-deep in the production of Devil’s Brew. Satan took this task very seriously with extreme hastiness. With the help of Morty, the Devil whipped the hordes of damnation literally and figuratively. Every dead soul worked the lines, and soon they had enough product to drown the living world.

Distribution was easy enough through Hade’s Express, a service that would put UPS and FedEx to shame. Through trains, planes, ships, trucks, and flying kazoos, the Devil’s Brew was available for purchase worldwide at the low price of 19.99 per can. With its fancy logo of Satan’s red balls wrapped in black barbed wire, no one could resist the ultimate drink. That was the hope, at least. 

Of course, it was panned by critics, but Satan was a firm believer that bad press equaled big sales. So, he had Morty dispatch a new marketing campaign that rocked Lipton’s world. Devil’s Brew claimed to be the best drink in the universe and backed it up with a “Like it or pay double” guarantee.

Devil’s Brew had a secret ingredient that resembled nightshade but was ten times more toxic. The effects went unnoticed, but one thing was clear. There was an addictive component that no one could identify. Satan and Morty had a hearty laugh because they knew what it was. A unique cocktail of nicotine and cocaine laced with a dash of ecstasy.  

The funds flowed into Hades by the dirt load, and Satan bathed in his newfound glory. He slept with the money, washed with it, ate with it, mated on it, and even wiped his ass-cheeks with it.

Meanwhile, as the new tea gripped the globe, Morty was worried because lawsuits were also coming in like the money. Wrongful death lawsuits, to be precise. Some people died from drinking Devil’s Brew, and their families wanted compensation. Satan didn’t care about this inconvenience; he had achieved his goal and basked in his greatness. Morty knew he had to do something because lawyers are the most terrifying parasites in all creation. They ranked right up there with politicians and insurance companies.

“What s-should we d-do, my master,” stuttered Morty.

“We shall do NOTHING!” Satan rumbled. “I have power that no one on this earth can match!” 

Taking a few deep, shuddering breaths, Morty interjected. “No one on this earth, but what about him?” 

“Who?”

“HIM…” Morty didn’t want to directly say the name. “You know the big guy, your brother!” 

“God will not interfere… awe shit…. Yes, he will! He’s always meddling in my affairs with his divine intervention!”  

“What shall we do?” asked Morty.

Satan thundered, “I will roast the lawyers in the ninth circle of Hell, and when they fall through, there will be eight more levels of fiery bliss to go!”  

“Yes,” Morty interjected, “but what about the families who seek compensation for their dead?”

Chuckling, Satan bellowed, “Send them a free case of Devil’s Brew, and soon they will join their lawyer friends!”

Morty nodded with a sly grin. “Yes, that will do quite nicely, my master. What will we do in the long run?” 

Satan reached down and scratched his manhood. “First, grab the razor. I need a trim,” he glowered. “Secondly, moving forward, let’s get the production line to put a disclaimer warning on the bottle stating that we are not liable for any wrongdoing from the consumption of Devil’s Brew.” Satan grinned, revealing his fangs. “By God, we will sell a billion cans from that alone! Ha, ha, ha!!”

“I get it,” Morty snorted. “It’s like when you buy shampoo, and it says: Lather, Rinse, and Repeat. Some humans take that to heart and get trapped in the shower! That’s a great idea, my master!”

“Ah… I’m always right!” proclaimed Satan. “Now fetch me a Devil’s Brew and the razor. My beautiful balls need a good shaving!!”     

Warning: Side effects associated with Devil’s Brew may include dehydration, yeast infections, and severe urinary tract infections. Urinary tract infections related to Devil’s Brew may be challenging to overcome and may become life-threatening if the infection spreads. Extreme diarrhea and flatulence cannot be ruled out. One of the most serious possible dangers of Devil’s Brew is an increased risk of amputation and sudden death without the possibility of revival. Symptoms of gangrene and other serious infections may occur. Sores, boils, and sepsis cannot be ruled out in some cases. Drink at your own peril. Otherwise, enjoy your tasty beverage, and thank you for choosing Devil’s Brew.   

The End

Daniel R. Hayes