NEGOTIATING HELL: a sequel to CS Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." Ch 2-The burning laptop
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"The greater the sinner, the greater the right he has to My mercy.
I cannot punish even the greatest sinner, if he makes an appeal to My compassion."
--Jesus to St Faustina, as written in her diary
The negotiation room, the AM of day#3's discussions …
Satan and Mary entered the negotiation room. Oblivious, the minions side-table grazed.
“Good morning, gentlemen; you are welcome to help yourself to refreshments as we go along. Do we say grace here, before eating?”
Satan gave her the evil eye. Mary got the message.
“Are there any questions before we begin?” Nobody moved. “Shall we begin?” asked Mary. She wanted to ask if they needed shovels.
Wide-eyed, the minions froze as Mary smiled. They wiped frosting everywhere as they righted their table and chairs. A trail of sprinkles followed.
Once seated, Satan opened the discussion in his surly tone. “What bosh do you side-questers want today?”
Ignoring Satan, Ebenezious the Orange addressed Mary emphatically, “we would like the originals of every Marvel, DC and Indie comic book in existence.
“No,” said Satan. Then he looked to Mary for confirmation. She froze.
“Caucus!” yelled Adolphious the Black. The minions left. Seconds later, Vladious the Green tip-toed in, snagged a platter of Long Johns and scampered into their morgue.
“Can he do that?” Satan asked Mary.
“Do what?” asked Mary, nose buried in her organized 800+ page binder.
“That ungrateful Muppet stole a tray of Maple Monoliths for their caucus room” growled Satan.
“Isn’t this hell? Don’t you steal souls for a living?” murmured Mary straight-faced, as she searched for their comic book request. It wasn’t there. New requests were in violation of their ground rules. Her brain was running the options.
“Do you own copies of those editions?” clarified Mary.
“No, not really,” replied Satan. “Paper spontaneously combusts here.”
Mary body-shielded her proposal originals from Satan, half-expecting a bonfire.
Satan saw her response and soothed, “these 3-rooms are climate-controlled and specially designed for negotiations. There won’t be any fires. In here, anyway.”
Relieved, Mary postulated, “thanks. About the comic books, I see 4-choices.
He laughed, “Nice try.” He asked, “you want me to be honest?” Satan hesitated thoughtfully. Sincerely, he pointed to her, “you are the only being — with whom I have been semi direct — since the birth of hell. You won’t like me if I am honest.”
Mary reminded him, “When all is said and done, you must live with the finality of this contract. All final decisions are yours.”
Mary blew his mind. Satan sulked over his leaking power.
MEANWHILE - THE MINIONS, IN THEIR CAUCUS ROOM
“I can’t believe you copped those chocolate croissants under Satan’s charge.” laughed Stalinious the Red.
“He never blinked,” flexed Vladious the Green. “I think Mary broke him.”
“Why did we caucus?” asked Stalinious the Red, talking with a full mouth.
Adolphious the Black responded, “to waste time. Now, we can eat in peace. It may be an infinity of eternities before we see these again.”
“What happens when we run out?” chomped Hilarious the Yellow. “BTW, I’m thirsty. Who wants to make an ice-water run?”
“You do understand this charade is an exercise in futility,” assessed Stalinious the Red. “Satan will give us nothing. If he does, we will pay for it, forever.”
Adolphious the Black thought, “I want to know, who is DB Cooper?”
“Who’s DB Cooper?” asked Ebenezious the Orange, with powder-sugared eyebrows.
“IDK,” replied Adolphious the Black. “That’s why we need to ask.”
“Fine,” said Ebenezious the Orange. “I’ll add it to the list.”
“Are we sure that free beer is on the list?” reiterated Vladious the Green. He was on his third bear claw.
“Yes!” yelled all the minions.
“I want know where President Hoffa is buried,” insisted Hilarious the Yellow. All the others nodded in agreement.
“We need a black 1957 Chevy station wagon,” said Stalinious the Red. “As long as we’re asking, it should be a Nomad,” he continued. “It’s eye candy.” The other minions nodded approval.
“What can we do with a car?” asked Adolphious the Black, “There's only one road to hell.”
“First, to make Satan covet his neighbor’s goods,” boasted Stalinious the Red. “We’d have a cool car and Satan wouldn’t. Second, we have a new round-about. We can drive it in circles, like NASCAR.”
“While I can’t fault your reasoning,” joked Ebenezious the Orange; “I see Satan offloading a Matador, Pacer or some other American Motors product.”
When Ebenezious mentioned Matador, Adolphious the Black gagged on his Beignet.
“Whatever, it’s on the list,” said Ebenezious the Orange. “So far we’ve got DB Cooper, Jimmy Hoffa and a black ‘57 Chevy.”
“A Nomad, ‘57 black Chevy,” corrected Stalinious the Red.
“What’s the big deal about Nomads?” asked Vladious the Green.
“IDK,” said Stalinious the Red. “But every time I hear ‘57 Chevy mentioned, somebody asks, ‘is it a Nomad?’ It means something to gearheads,” said Stalinious the Red.
“Let’s go back out there,” urged Adolphious the Black. “Good work men. We’ve got solid items for solid negotiations. Besides, we’re out of chocolate eclairs and I’m thirsty.”
“Hey, shouldn’t we circle up our hands and yell, ‘go minions’ or something?” asked Hilarious the Yellow. “I see that at sporting events.”
“No wonder you miss quotas. You waste time on sports,” envied Vlad the Green. He would swap duties with Yellow and maximize betting at all sporting events.
THE NEGOTIATION ROOM….
The minions clattered in and sat. Except Vladious, who borrowed water and a tray of creme-filled Bismarcks for their table.
Satan glared and murmured under his breath, “ungrateful Neanderthals.” He couldn't create. To him, everything was an opportunity cost.
Mary announced, “hello gentlemen, welcome back. Are you ready?”
“Yes. Where did that Scientology leader's wife, Shelly Miscavige go? And furthermore, who was DB Cooper?” said Ebenezious the Orange.
“Are you serious!” spewed Satan. “That information is need-to-know and, you don’t need to know!”
“Are they down here with us?” asked the curious Vladious the Green, inhaling a French choux-pastry crueller.
“If I may?” interjected Mary. She knew everything in their proposal, and all these items were new. Yet these were fun requests. She invested in this discussion.
Mary launched, “IDK about Scientology, but I think DB Cooper was a 1971 airplane hijacker. He parachuted out of the plane’s back door with $200,000 in ransom. That equals $1-2 million today. He was never seen again. Only a fraction of the money was ever found. Humans still comb southwest Washington state to find his money.” Satan was taken aback that Mary knew. He pivoted from her to the minions.
“Why is this guy so important?” asked Satan.
“He’s not,” said Ebenezious the Orange. “We just want to know who and where he is.”
“I believe Mara here, explained everything,” replied Satan. “Let’s move on.”
“She explained what he did, not where he is,” corrected Ebenezious the Orange.
Mary whispered in Satan’s ear, “you could assign a minion to the task.”
Satan whispered back, “why? I’d rather have my gremlins bring me souls.”
“Then, you have DB Cooper here?” Mary pushed.
“Yes. No!” Satan was perspiring under his collar. He was in a hot spot.
“So, the answer is yes and no?” asked Ebenezious the Orange.
“Shut up, you tainted tangerine,” growled Satan. Irate, he prepared to unload an unpleasant sermon upon them …
Ebenezious interrupted, “we concede. You win.” The round was over.
Adolphius the Black spoke next. “The next item regards the infamous union overlord. I’m afraid we must know where our fearless leader, President Jimmy Hoffa, is buried.”
Satan looked at Mary for guidance. “The whole world wants the answer to that question,” said Mary, glancing at Satan.
Satan reacted, “no, I cannot reveal his whereabouts.” He acted as if it was the greatest secret to the last century.
Mary thought to herself, ‘he doesn’t know,’ but left it alone. She and Virgil were making good headway with hell’s census.
“Very well,” continued Ebenezious. “Let the record reflect that no requests have been honored today.” He cleared his throat. “The next item, we want is a black 1957 Chevy station wagon.”
“A Nomad?” asked Satan.
Mary was surprised at Satan. Satan sat back like an Oracle, thinking it over.
“No.” Satan anticipated the next question.
“How about a regular black 57 Chevy station wagon, then?” asked Ebenezious.
“Considering the insurance premiums, no,” said Satan. Mary almost laughed out loud. Why would he care about collector cars?
Ebenezious took another stab, “If the black 57 Chevy station wagon is out, how about an American Motors product? What about, say, a “black Gremlin?”
Satan thought. He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth and thought some more. Mary turned and watched Satan open his mouth again. The minions watched. Was Satan having a stroke?
Finally, Satan leaned toward Ebenezious the Orange and pointed at Adolphious the Black. “I'll allow it,” he said, “you can have him,” said Satan brilliantly.
Mary yelled, “Caucus!” Adolphious was much more than a black gremlin.
Satan honored the minions with his signature stare as he followed Mary into their caucus room. Adolph the Black was on the table, in the face of Ebenezer the Orange; preparing to send him into a deeper shadowy realm.
MANAGEMENT CAUCUS ROOM….
Satan walked by a mirror and bragged, “that went rather well.”
“Yes, I’m proud,” said Mary, condescendingly. “You didn’t let them get to you ... However, I think we should ask clarification questions, entertain some back-and-forth discussion and call more caucuses before we say no to a single proposal. We should at least give the appearance of trying.
“Why would I do that? asked Satan. “I want it to be my turn to talk about my issues.”
“Satan,” Mary explained. “If you pretend to care, it is still a lie.” Then, the old devil brightened.
“Lies, I am thy father,” Satan pontificated.
Bored, Mary checked her wristwatch, “it’s about time for their crash-out. Between the sugar, serotonin and dopamine, the bottom is ready to collapse.”
“Are you sure?” questioned Satan, kindly. “I am trusting you on this.”
Mary asserted, “every human on that diet, ‘hits the wall.’" Disturbed, Mary considered if Satan was patronizing her. Wait, was he leading her on?
Together, they got up to watch the fun and headed back to the negotiation room.
Concurrently, minion discussions in the negotiation room
“We’re not getting anywhere,” lamented Ebenezious the Orange.
“What do you want to do?” asked Adolphious the Black.
“Just don’t say anything stupid,” said Vladious the Green.
Both Adolphious and Ebenezious directed dirty looks at the unhelpful Vlad. Meanwhile, minions gorged on apple fritters and Boston cremes…
Just then, Mary and Satan re-entered the negotiation room and sat.
“Hello gentlemen, what’s our next issue?” asked Mary.
“We don’t think you are taking this seriously,” began Ebenezious the Orange. “And since you refuse to negotiate in good faith, we have no option but to strike.”
“Strike!” cried everybody in unison. “Strike! Strike! Strike!”
“You can’t strike!” yelled Satan, with veins popping out of his neck and flames spraying from every orifice.
“Why not?” Ebenezious the Orange asked coolly.
“Because I said so!” sputtered Satan.
They all yelled in unison, “that’s not a good argument.”
Satan was so angry he stood up and knocked over his chair. Mary grabbed the table, so papers didn’t fly everywhere. She could not have her notes seen by anyone. Although, in the minions’ current state of engorgement, they might eat them.
Mary saw Satan angry before, but never like this. Shocked, all minions stared at Ebenezious the Orange. And like, mockingbirds, they had followed in his fury. Now, they realized what they had just said and done. This was not a popcorn moment.
Satan raged, “you conniving, sniveling, backstabbing, low-life, sleazy chum buckets. After everything I haven’t done, this is how you repay my generosity?” howled Satan. Mary stifled a giggle. When was Satan generous? Maybe it was a popcorn moment?
Satan flew over the table, nose-to-nose with Ebenezious the Orange and screeched. No one understood his words. As Satan screamed, Ebenezious’ face stretched backwards from the intense G-forces. Had Satan used the breath mints she gifted him, for such events?
Mary’s mind raced with options and logistics. How could they do a lock-out? Where would the minions go? From what would they construct non-combustible signs? Where would they picket? So many new variables. Both Satan and minions needed time-outs. Mary waited for Satan to breathe, so she could interrupt. What Mary didn’t realize, is demons do not breathe. She grabbed the back of his Brooks Brothers blazer to jerk him out of his rage.
“Caucus,” she interrupted firmly. Literally, Mary dragged him to their caucus room, while he continued to rant.
THE MANAGEMENT CAUCUS ROOM……
Once safe, Satan cursed and swore but hesitated briefly as he passed mirrors. It might take a while, but Mary would wait him out.
“I can’t believe those miserable mutts!” frothed Satan. Can you imagine if no one is gathering souls?”
“There would be world peace, goodness, patience and kindness in the universe?” asked Mary.
“Exactly!” Satan shot, “the balance of power would be destroyed. My greatest temptation — instant gratification — would be gone. The very thought makes me viscerally ill.”
Mary tuned him out as he paced, yelling about lost real estate. As Satan carried on like a banty rooster, Mary discerned for her daily Dad-debriefing.
Satan settled down as he caught sight of himself, in a mirror. He smiled for a second and relaunched. Mary’s earthly union stewards used big words without knowing their meaning. Was this the case with the word 'strike?' They would find out. Meanwhile, they were missing the great minion crash-out.
Suddenly, Mary realized Satan was quietly sitting next to her. He was watching her. She jumped. He was just plain weird.
“You haven’t heard a word I said,” said Satan. “I don’t like it when people don’t listen.”
“How could I help but not listen?” replied Mary.
“What did I say?” asked Satan suspiciously.
“You were terrifying.” Mary wondered if Satan flipped to autopilot when he raved.
“Just checking,” grinned Satan, feeling refreshed. “I was terrifying, wasn’t I? So, what do we do now?’
“That’s what I was thinking about while I pretended to listen,” replied Mary. “Where I worked, it was illegal for us to strike. This is new territory for me.”
“Really!” whistled Satan. “I thought humans went on strike all the time.
“Nope, the one group that tried it, got themselves fired.” replied Mary. “It was pretty ugly.” Satan lit up when he heard the word ‘fired’, envisioning flames.
“Weren’t you part of that group?” he asked.
“No!” responded Mary “Do I look stupid?
Satan smiled at her. “I want to talk about me, myself and my issues. Maybe I could federalize them so they can’t strike?”
“They’re minions, not the National Guard. As for your issues,” replied Mary, “I thought you were a Prince? Don’t you decide everything, including ability to strike?”
Satan’s demeanor changed, “I might let them strike while making their horrid little lives so excruciatingly raw, they will beg to come back.”
“That’s my boy.” Mary said. Their hell was 24/7. How could their lives possibly get worse?
Satan raised an eyebrow, mistaking her sarcasm for interest. “I have ideas, but I want those oil cans to stew. I say we call it a day. Go out the back way so they don’t know we’re done. I’m going to let them wallow in panic. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yessir!” Mary was packed and half-out the door. She detected slight jealousy from Satan’s dismissal.
“BTW,” Satan called after her. “Tell you-know-Who I said hello.” Even a prince must defer to his King and his queen.
“Done!” Her voice echoed in the tunnel as she ran home to see their Dad.
CONCURRENTLY - THE MINIONS, STILL IN THE NEGOTIATIONS ROOM….
“Have you lost your mind!” exhorted Adolph the Black.
“You need a new dealer, cuz you be on some bad blow,” advised Vlad the Green.
“You need to be locked away for an insane period of time,” added Hilarious the Yellow.
“I’m already here Hilarious! Don’t you get it?” said Ebenezious the Orange. “If we strike, we walk around with signs. Everyone takes turns chanting about Satan.”
“Can you imagine what Satan will do to us?” asked Adolph the Black.
“Doesn’t he already do nasty stuff to us?” said Stalin the Red, stating the obvious.
“A strike allows us to proclaim truths about Satan,” said Ebenezer the Orange, excitedly. “Don’t you want to share it with the world, what he does to us?”
“We spread hate and discontent now,” stated Stalin the Red. "Are you saying we picket with signs on earth?"
They stopped to think. Could they?
Vlad the Green injected, “Satan doesn’t have a sense of humor. Do we use sarcasm? What will our signs say, ‘Satan is a nice guy’?”
“How would we get the other minions onboard?” asked Ebenezer the Orange.
Adolph the Black said, “Minions cannot agree on anything. We should have discussed striking first, before going down this path.”
“I say we bribe other minions with free beer,” suggested Vlad the Green.
“And just where are we going to get all that free beer?” asked Hilarious the Yellow.
“From Satan,” replied Ebenezer the Orange.
Sarcastically, Hilarious the Yellow suggested. “So, you want us to march up to Satan and ask for free beer to bribe others to strike against him?”
“Sure, we convince Satan it’s his idea,” said Ebenezer the Orange, thinking Vlad the Green might be an ally.
“Well, good luck with that,” scoffed Adolph the Black. “And I suggest that you be the one to bring it up.”
The other minions agreed. Vlad the Green hadn’t had a creme horn yet and walked back to the display table. He found a tray of cinnamon rolls! Meanwhile, Satan and Mary were taking forever in their caucus room. No one realized they had ended their day.
BACK IN HEAVEN ...
The elevator doors opened and Mary stepped out. It was glorious. Mary made the cut! Sure, she detoured thru purgatory first, but she wasn’t going to rot in hell. What a horrible thought that was. As Mary made her way to God’s office, she saw all the angels and saints feasting on a picnic in the bright light. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much longer and she’d join them. Sera, God’s secretary, told her God was in a meeting and invited her to sit.
“How are things going down there?” asked Sera, kindly.
“They’re a brigade of buffoons,” sighed Mary. She realized Sera and she never before conversed.
“Yes dear, that’s why they live there.” Sera was so nice, despite detraction. “May I sit with you a moment?” Mary nodded and moved over. Sera removed her Stella sunglasses for direct eye contact and held Mary’s hands.
Through your recent purgatorial duties and distractions, how many souls might you have protected in these past few days? How many will you protect in the next few days? Who do you think God will reward for protecting them.” And with that, Sera left her.
Mary sat for a long, long time. Nervous, she looked for something to page through while thinking. She found a variety of magazines on the end table.
She thumbed through “Hiking thru Heaven.” Her bucket list included backpacking through Europe, but Dad had other ideas. She found an article about ‘lighter-than-air equipment,’ when she realized Dad was smiling in front of her, in His cloud. She took off her shoes and knelt. Immediately, He helped her up.
“How was your day?” He inquired, wanting her to say the words. God and Mary made their way to the deck. They chatted while enjoying the fresh breezes. Sera brought a tray of frosted glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. “Thank you, Sera,” said Dad.
“I know that You know about the strike,” Mary deduced. The glasses contained fruit kebobs of diced pineapple and blueberries. As Sera poured, Mary noticed that the lemonade was spiked with dark grape juice.
God stirred His lemonade, “did you find today’s activities entertaining? Why do you think you were asked to be involved?”
Mary began, “when earthlings asked me why, my answer was, I am not the Big Man running the show.”
God smiled, “I respect your faith in Me.”
“I have trouble with hindsight,” said Mary. “I still don’t see Your plan for me.”
“You did well, considering,” smiled God. “But I did want to help you more.”
God and Mary gazed over the water. After a few minutes of serenity, Mary asked “So Dad, what do I do tomorrow?”
“I would hate to spoil it,” God laughed.
“Please, spoil away.” replied Mary. “I hate surprises.”
God grinned, “You seek guarantees. You could have taken more chances, knowing I was there to catch you. But now, it is time to decompress before tomorrow.
“Thanks, but I’d relax better if I knew I didn’t have to go back,” said Mary.
God hinted, “you would always wonder how it ended.”
“Someone with Your knowledge and omnipotence would already know that, and could give me an idea,” replied Mary, trolling for hints.
“You cannot wear me down,” winked God. “You must learn it on your own. And once you figure it out, it will be time to come home, forever.”
Ouch! How could she know what she didn’t know? What was she missing? Perhaps "it" was a distraction to keep her mind off tomorrow.
< See below link for Chapter 25: “Striking for the heck of it” >
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 2: Jerking Satan’s Chain & the burning laptop
Chapter 3: “Hmm …. I guess I read that wrong”
Chapter 4: The devil is in the details
Chapter 5: And what was it they wanted to organize?
Chapter 6: Nothing is ever good enough
Chapter 7: What could be worse?
Chapter 9: It’s all in the sales pitch
Chapter 11: Just the first day
Chapter 12: Let’s get comfortable
Chapter 14: The 2nd day & who is messing with whom?
Chapter 15: The meeting of the minds—to waste
Chapter 16: The minions in the Caucus Room
Chapter 17: Stop & smell the roses
Chapter 18: Same evening, different place or the mindless are meeting
Chapter 19: Paper, Rock or Scissors
Chapter 20: My issues are stupider than yours!
Chapter 21: You have the right to remain silent
Chapter 22: Let the stupidity begin
Chapter 23: When in hell, it doesn’t matter what day it is
Chapter 24: Insolence at its finest
Chapter 25: Striking for the heck of it
Chapter 26: The signing ceremony
Chapter 27: Mary’s contingency is fulfilled
Science cannot explain suffering. As Lay Passionist and nurse, she challenges modern health care assumptions; contraception, abortion, euthanasia, herd immunity and more. Behind every health dilemma, God asks us to abide in Him. Author of 7 books & >20 peer-reviewed nursing journal articles; she also writes as "The Catholic Nurse" on Substack, see "Archives." She is a veteran of the Army Nurse Corps. Her primary charism is mercy through which she explores redemptive suffering, spiritual healing and the joy of bringing of souls to God.
