the devil's Party

I lounged on a leather couch in the devil’s Workshop in Cloud Nine, resting my eyes because I had a premonition that I would get another migraine in the near future. And the devil was doing what he always did when he worked in his workshop: counting grains of sand. No, I didn’t know what he saw in the activity, but it amused him endlessly, and the devil amused was better than the devil unamused. That’s just common sense.

“Mule?” He called out from across the vast expanse of the room. As you could imagine, it was filled with piles and piles of sandbags, but the devil kept it neat and only had one pile of sand out at a time. And, of course, he kept track of every grain of sand. “I’ve got a task for you.”

I sighed under my breath and flopped upright to get off the all-too-comfortable couch. I walked across the checkered tile floor that had the illusion of four dimensions and which I often tried to ignore due to said history of terrible headaches. I could only handle so much of non-Earth stimuli.

Once I reached him, the devil didn’t stop his grain counting, only saying. “I’m having a party in my boxcar tomorrow. Noon Earth Standard Time. Go and invite the usual.”

“What’s the party for?” I asked because I could get away with that sort of thing.

“It’s a surprise, 100,000,405,” He said as he placed the last grain of sand from the current bag onto the large pile. That was the wrong number, which meant—

“Oh well, have to start again!” the devil said with a sad expression and snapped his fingers. All the sand disappeared back into the bag and he started the count again.

I smiled softly, and since I already had my task—no more, no less—I took off to the devil’s Hallway. Those doors were the fastest portals to the various Cloud Districts. I figured I’d start with the Plague Doctors on Cloud Six. They were the biggest partiers, after all.

***

I landed with a large thud in The Barn of Rainbow Sheep. This was the palace of Cloud Ten. But it really was as it sounded: a barn for rainbow-colored sheep.

“Behold, I am the technicolor sheep queen!” A sheep, perched regally on a throne of wooden crates, proclaimed with a flourish. Her wool shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors, changing so rapidly that it was a wonder I didn’t develop epilepsy on the spot.

“That’s with a capital T-S-Q, missy!”

This Technicolor Sheep Queen was a diva alright. Just like the devil (lowercase t, lowercase d, BTW) warned. I sneezed—I was allergic to blue dirt—and said, “Sorry, Miss Technicolor Sheep Queen. I just need to know: the devil is having a party, will you come?”

“Who are you to demand such an answer? I’m a busy Sheep Queen, you know!”

I sighed and stepped around an oblivious orange sheep eating at a tiny patch of pink grass and said, “Sorry again. I thought you would know. I’m Mule.” An uncertain silence fell upon the barn. This wasn’t unusual. And because I felt bitter about the headache I would get from the dirt, I added, “the devil’s left-hand woman? From Cloud Nine?”

A young green sheep stepped forward with a chair in its mouth. I took it with a smile and a nod and put it in front of me so I could straddle it while facing the Technicolor Sheep Queen. A bit of an intimidation tactic, but I did not feel up to a Double Migraine if I stayed around the blue dirt and rainbow poop too long.

“Simple answer,” I said. “Yes or no.”

The Technicolor Sheep Queen (we’ll call her TSQ) settled down with her legs tucked up under her voluptuous and nauseating wool. The wooden crate throne wobbled a little at the movement. Purple sheep on either side stuck out their hooves to hold it steady. Geez, I knew Cloud Ten wasn’t exactly known for its technological advancements, but I didn’t expect The Barn to be…well, a barn.

TSQ sniffed. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”

I smiled my business smile. “the devil isn’t in the game of ordering people around.” A familiar line. Everyone knew what it meant.

TSQ sighed. She rolled her head to stretch the muscles and said, “Fine. What time is this party of the devil’s?”

I stood up and stretched, too. “Tomorrow. Noon. Earth Standard Time. At the devil’s boxcar.”

She groaned. “On the Train? I despise that horrid contraption.”

“You already RSVP’d,” I said with a shrug. You can’t say No after you said Yes to the devil. That’s just common sense.

She sighed dramatically again, and it was getting on my nerves, so I asked her for a quick passage to Cloud Eleven. I had two more people on my list.

***

At least they’re right next to each other, so this is my last stop, I reminded myself for the thousandth time as that headache got worse with all the bickering from The Twins, aka the Serpent Kings, aka Morality and Sin, aka the Devourers of Worlds. All very convoluted, all very taxing on my nerves. Why couldn’t they have one set of names, maybe two at most, like the rest of us? And it’s not like they’d gotten off their serpent asses to devour a world in, like, five millennia or so. There, one name already taken off the list.

“Sin, I’m telling you the truth. I’m Morality, I would never lie!” One head said.

The other head shook from side to side. “No, I’m Morality today. You’re Sin now.”

Morality, who was Sin, but maybe not, hissed in confusion and tugged his half of the body this way and that. “But I thought we agreed I’d be Morality on Tuesdays!”

The other rolled its eyes. “Except on Tuesdays—”

“—that end in ‘Yyyyyyy’’,” they said in annoying unison.

“Well, then you’re right,” Sin said. “I’m totally lying.” He’s definitely Sin now, right? Oh, I felt the migraine coming on.

“But you’re Sin! How am I supposed to believe you now?” Morality cried.

Yep, the migraine had arrived at the station. All aboard, Mule, come on now, you can’t miss your train! You’ve got a meeting at five o’clock!!!

“Enough!” I bellowed with all the might of a woman whose head felt like a brick with a headache. But thankfully, it worked and got The Twins’ attention. I looked at them with slitted eyes and said, “Are you coming to the party or not?”

They rolled their heads in infuriating unison. “Well, of course!” Sin said.

“No question about it!” Morality added.

“Well, there is the matter of our hundred-year nap,” Sin said with a hum. “It sort of interferes with—”

“Good. Great,” I started to leave the slick and disgustingly slimy cave. The walls were covered in purple slime of questionable origin, as they always were. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t always be gross to me. “Noon, tomorrow, EST. the devil’s boxcar. See you then.” I left with my head in my hands for Cloud Eleven’s train station. I did have a meeting with the devil at five. I couldn’t be late.

***

“Your head is hurting. You could have said something.”

I looked as annoyed as I dared at the devil. “Would it have stopped you from reciting the entirety of War and Peace twice?

“No, but I may have said it in a softer tone.”

I mutter, “I appreciate that. But it’s fine. Can we get down to business now?”

the devil nodded. “We can get down to business now. Yes we can, yes we can, yes we can.” He liked things in threes. I’m used to his eccentricities.

“So, the boxcar. It’s all set up for the party, though—if I can be honest—it’s hard to know how to decorate when you won’t tell me what we’re going to be celebrating.”

the devil waved a hand, “Mule, I understand your concern, and I want to assuage your fears in any way I can. But you know better than to ask so directly about my intentions.”

I flushed and looked away. He was right. In the Cloud Districts, “asking without asking” is one of the rudest, most “direct” things you can do. Sometimes I forget—I have spent a lot of time on Earth recently. Still, no excuse.

“But I will forgive this transgression if you deliver one more invitation.”

“Of course, who to?” the headache was finally easing. Maybe this last invitation wouldn’t be so bad.

“Your mother.”

I froze, and dread dripped onto my shoes. God, my mother was the last person I wanted to see. But I had been extremely rude to the devil. Even I wasn’t immune to his wrath. I nodded and headed to the door.

“You’re tracking dread across my floor!” the devil shouted after me. “You’re lucky we have Beelzebub to clean up after you!”

***

“Mother.”

“Mule. You’re tracking dread across the front yard. Business?”

“Purely business.”

“Good. Come in.”

I preferred spending my time with the more “ab”mortal members of the Cloud District because of how much I stood out among the mortals. Every mortal here was as white as a sheet, and the darkest their skin got was the pink of the blush they put on. My mother was no exception. I, on the other hand, was quite tan, thanks to my earthly father.

Still, appearances were not the reason my mother and I didn’t see eye to eye.

My mother didn’t offer me bubbly water, though that would have been polite. Instead, she sat down on one of her many luxurious foldable lawn chairs and waited for me to speak.

I barely managed not to roll my eyes.

I sat down across from her. “the devil is having a party. Tomorrow, noon EST, in his boxcar.”

“No.”

I frowned but stood up anyway. Having gotten an answer, my body already wanted to leave. Still, that answer brought on a plethora of red flags that I couldn’t just leave lying around for anyone to pick up. Unfortunately, I had to ask.

“You understand what you’re saying, right?” I said while starting to pick up the flags.

“Do you see my idiocy?”

“No, Mother. I don’t.” I thought she was insane, but not an idiot. If she were, it would literally be written on her face.

She bared her pearl-white teeth. “My final answer is no. Tell that to the devil.”

Perhaps I would have said something in another life. But this life was the only one we mortals got, so I didn’t and promptly left without another word. Let her deal with the consequences.

I didn’t care.

***

Obviously, I cared. Which was why I took the Train instead of the Hallway back to the devil’s Workshop. I wanted to delay the inevitable shitstorm that would befall my mother once the devil found out she rejected his invitation. And some people say I lacked compassion.

But eventually I couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room. I mean, I could, the devil had a special cage for it in the corner and everything, but that would defeat my newest goal from my self-help book I got from Earth: confronting uncomfortable situations.

“Do you want me to make this more uncomfortable?” the devil asked as I walked into the Workshop. He was counting the grains of sand with his big toe now.

“No, thanks for thinking of me though.”

“That’ll be five cents.”

I tossed him some pennies and sat back down on the leather sofa. Well, now or never.

“… She said no.”

the devil was quiet for a moment. I felt my nerves start to unravel in my body. “Ow! A response would be appreciated!”

the devil smiled. “Sorry. Yes, well, that is too bad about your mother. It was a Forgiveness Party. We were supposed to celebrate her forgiving me.” He shrugged and added his pinky toe to count two at a time. “Oh well. Maybe next time. Go and tell the guests the party is cancelled.”

The headache was back.

As I left the Workshop yet again, the devil called out, “I see you’re taking the migraine train this time?”

I held up my pinkie finger in the air and his laughter bounced against the walls and down the hall to the migraine train station.