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                              SPURNED #2
                     "Unlike Father, Unlike Son"
                                Part 2
                        "Rhapsody in Hell(tm)"
                 by Todd D. Perlmutter (Media Child)

            "I will neither yield to the song of the siren
                     nor the voice of the hyena,
                      The tears of the crocodile
                    nor the howling of the wolf."
                     George Chapman, Eastward Ho

The kitchen was moving along smoothly, albeit more slowly without
Efrian.  There'd be no specials tonight, which was a shame--he really
was an excellent chef.  He had such a way with fried foods, this
giblet gravy that was second to none, and his grits were out of this
world.

The first shift temps were in position, mingled with his regular
staff.  A customer would never be able to tell them apart, but he
could.  The fear just baked off them, like the smell of fresh apple
pie.

Stitches and Swatches gave him the thumbs up from their position in
the coat room.  Ostensibly overdressed, but they were like that.  And
they had been for at least as long as he's known them.  Al smiled
back.  His friends.  His only friends.  Thanks dad.

He'd met them during his college days at Hell's Belle University.  Oh,
they didn't go there, not being denizens of Hell(tm) there was no way
they could.  His father had pushed him into pursuing a degree in
business, but he'd always had other interests.  As a result, he'd
minored in Altiversal Theory.

Early on he'd zeroed in on the 000SUPERGUY universe.  He found it
simply fascinating, and easily accessible.  All you had to do was
visit the restaurant and leave through one of the front doors instead
of the back.  And because of who he was, no one ever tried to stop
him.  It was on one of these excursions that he'd met Jerimiah and Jo
Beth Taylor, a moment he'll never forget (and one maybe I'll write
about--depending on feedback).

During this shift, the regular staff that he designated as trainers
would be bringing the temps for the next shift up to speed in the back
room.  If all goes well, this will be the most people he's processed
since he began this all those months ago.  In that time he'd been
giving the devil his due.  If this was indeed it, then it was ending
with a bang.

*****

"Okay you can just set up over..." *bzzzt* "...there..." *bzzzt*
"...in..." *bzzzt* "...the..." *bzzzt* "...corner." *bzzzt*

*Oh this woman is really asking for it.* Satan thought to himself
while lunging for the intercom button on the phone on his desk.
*bzzzt* *bzzzt* *bzzzt*  He could swear she was doing this on purpose.
Finally making it through the clutter of his office, and all but
knocking the phone off his desk he yelled in to the intercom,
"Damnation woman, what is it!!!"

"I've left a message for your son at his restaurant."

"Thank you."

"And, the backup has arrived."

"Excellent, send them in."

*****

Despite a few broken glasses and dropped trays amidst applause, the
first seating went off without a hitch.  The temps had played their
parts appropriately, and, as the customers were leaving, it was their
time to leave too.

One by one each entered the coat room dressed as a buser or a server
to retrieve the coats for one of the tables.  After a brief glow and
flash of colors (plaid too), they exited dressed in the finest
fashions the Tailor Twins had to offer.  As each left, Swatches handed
them an envelope which contained everything they would need to begin
their life anew.  They brought the coats back to the table, helped the
customers put the coats on, and then left with the customers.  Through
the front door, of course.

When the last was gone, the second shift came out from the back room
and began preparing the restaurant.  It was their turn at bat.  *pop*
Slightly crumpling the piece of paper he still held in his hand once
more, *fwish*  Al shuddered feeling something strange wash over him.
Funny, that something strange tasted an awful lot like champagne.

He turned to the two superbly suited individuals, desperately trying
to recall again just why it was they were his friends.  "What the
Hell(tm) was that for?"  He said as the champagne slowly began to boil
off of him.

"BWAH", bwahed Stitches.

"C'mon smile big guy.", said Swatches.

"HA", ha'd Stitches.

"You were looking a little depressed there for a moment, we couldn't
resist." Swatches continued.

"HA", ha'd Stitches yet again.  This time Swatches ground her heel
into his foot and sent *cut it out!!!* across their psychic thread.
Inhaling deeply from the pain, Stitches stopped laughing and offered
Al the bottle of champagne "Sorry Al.  Here, take a swig you're gonna
need it."

"Thanks, but I've already had quite enough thank you.  What's up?"

Frowning slightly, the moment crushed like her brother's toes,
Swatches said, "Your father's secretary called.  He wants you in his
office pronto."

Instantly he knew this was it, destiny was calling.  He let the
crumpled paper fall from his hand to the floor.  All he could say was,
"Damn."

"C'mon it's not that bad, you look like your dog died."  said
Stitches.

Ignoring the reference, Al looked at the two of them and said, "Can
you guys handle this without me?"

"Yeah, of course.  Why?" asked Swatches.

"There's no time to explain now.  Listen, screw the meals, screw the
charade--process everyone, now.  Even the regular staff.  Then get out
of here, go to the store.  I'll meet you there later."  He said while
heading toward the back exit.

Watching Al go, Stitches bent down and picked up the piece of paper.

"I don't get it, Jer, I've never seen him act like that before.  What
the Hell(tm) is going on?" said Swatches.

Holding the piece of paper out to Swatches, Stitches said, "I think
this might have something to do with it."

She looked at the piece of paper and read it aloud, "Big changes await
you in the upcoming year.  You'll learn that you can change the
Multiverse, but if the jack slips, then you'd better get the Hell(tm)
out of the way.  And, if at all possible, avoid fried foods and the
chefs who cook them--even if you do so enjoy their giblet gravy.  the
Sage.  October 14, 1994"

*****

Al parked his Harley Davidson Sportster in the garage of the Hell Inc.
Multiversal Headquarters Building located in the center of
666NASTYNASTYNASTY.  And took the elevator up to his father's office.

*ding* *woosh*  The elevator door opened.  He stepped off and walked
up to the secretary's desk.  He started to speak, "Hi...", but the
secretary interrupted.

"Heah-loh Misdah Jahnes.  Misdah Jahnes iz spectin y'all, soz juhz
gowan ihn."

"Hunh?"

His complete lack of recognition as to what she had said did not go
unnoticed.  She began using age old signals which had been passed down
to her by her mother and her mother before her, so on and so forth.
This basically consisted of her pointing a whole lot at him, and then
a whole lot at the door.  This helped a lot more than her speaking
ever could have.

Al opened the door to Satan's office and walked in.  The room was
unusually dark, even for his father.

*ka-klunk* *click* An overhead light came on, revealing a chair in the
middle of the room, and little else.  He could tell he was surrounded.
He decided to play it safe and go along with whatever his father had
in mind.

"Have a seat." came a voice out of the darkness.  He immediately
recognized it as his father's.  He could barely make him out.  Against
his better judgment he sat down.

*sniff* *sniff* "Is that champagne I smell?" Satan asked Al.

"Korbel."

"Ewww."

"It happens."

"Ummm...anyway, *Ahem*", Satan cleared his throat making it sound much
more imposing.

"Al...son, I'm very disappointed.  I'd always thought your acts of
kindness and general goodwill was just a phase you were going through.
A sort of karmic development.  A prelude to an evil greater than even
mine.  'Give him time.  You'll see, he'll come around.'  I'd tell
myself.  But this...this...thing you have done with *my* souls--souls
I went out of my way to get no less--is one I can not ignore.

"However, you are my son, and rather than destroy you outright I am
giving you one chance to redeem yourself in my eyes.  One chance to
prove to me you are truly your father's son."

This was just slightly worse than Al thought possible.  If he were
anyone else he'd be smelling apple pie about now, and quite possible
something else.  He decided that denying it would be pointless.  "So
tell me father, how do you propose I do this."

*ka-klunk* *click*  A bank of lights came on to reveal a stage,
complete with a band and backup singers (man his father's office was
huge).  There in the center of the stage, microphone in hand, stood
his father, clad in a blood red sequined tuxedo.

The band started playing a spirited, quick beat--a little heavy on the
trumpets.  It sounded somehow familiar.

"Why sit back, relax, and enjoy the show of course."  said Satan
sporting a huge and completely evil grin.

The intro continued, his father screaming a few "Yeah!"s and "I'm
evil!"s here and there throughout.

A waitress walked up to Al, "Anything to drink?"

"Actually, a Coke would be nice."

"Coming right up."

His father began singing, backed up by a trio of succubii.  As they
shook and shimmied up on the stage, he felt it was a good thing he was
fairly immune to their charms.  However, he couldn't help but admire
their...ummm...assets.  One of them had quite a remarkable portfolio
too.

"I wanna tell you a story,
        every devil oughta know.
It's about being evil,
        and stealing the show.
If you're evil tonight now,
        then everything'll be all right."

"Oh, the first things to master,
        is to lie, cheat, and steal.
You'll be in the driver's seat,
        with your hands on the wheel now.
If you do these things tonight,
        then evil is within your sight."

The bass player kicks with a mellow, "Yes. Yes. Yes."

"If you practice my method,
        just as hard as you can.
You gonna get a reputation,
        as a low down man now.
And you'll be hated every night,
        that you flaunt your evil might."

The band broke into a rift.  Louder.  Heavier in bass.  And heavier
still in trumpets--as hard to believe as that was to Al's ears.  The
whole band was shouting "Hey!  Hey!  Hey!  Hey!" over and over again,
which would had been quite bothersome had there not been music
playing.

The succubii were singing "Hey!  Hey!  Yeah!" amidst the bands "Hey!
Hey!  Hey!  Hey!"s, while Satan generally danced around the stage
somewhat like James Brown shouting a few "Aow!"s, "Alrights!"s, "Ooo
baby!"s, and "I'm bad!"s--which remarkable enough could still be heard
even with all the other stuff being shouted, sung, and played.

Somehow the band, the succubii, and Satan had managed to combine all
this into something which sounded remarkably good.  Al never knew his
father was quite so talented.

The waitress walked up to Al and handed him his drink.  He thanked
her, and chugged it down feeling the gas build in his stomach.

This time through Satan was following the lead of the succubii,
although he wasn't always repeating their lines verbatim.

"I wanna tell you a story, (Yeah I wanna tell you a story,)
        every demon oughta know.
If you wanna be real evil,
        you gotta make blood flow.
You've gotta be evil tonight now, (I know I'm an evil SOB.)
        if you wanna survive the night. (I am.)"

Again the bass player kicks with a mellow, "Ohhh yeahhh!"

"Oh, sharp pointy horns, (Real pointy, real pointy.)
        and needle like fangs. (Big nasty fangs.)
Evil is the way to go, (You know I'm there)
        it's the in thang. (I know it is.)
'cause if your not evil tonight
        you won't survive the night."

The band cut into the same rift as before.  Everyone was, of course,
still doing their part by shouting, singing, and dancing.  And the
music finished on a heavy down beat.

After catching his breath and wiping his brow with a blood red hanky,
Satan looked at Al smiling, "So tell me son, are you ready to be evil
tonight?"

The pain building in his gut was slightly uncomfortable.  "Well dad.
Much as I appreciate a good tune, I just can't find it in myself to
hear the gospel."

Unfazed by his son's response--he'd expected as much.  "Fine, have it
your way.  Habeus corpus, vaevictis asmadi.  See you later alligator.
From this moment forward I have no son."

Satan waved his hands toward the shadows, "Guards eliminate him!!!"

A squadron of Hell(tm)'s Elite stepped out from what few shadows
remained in the office.  *ka-click* *click*  Their hellfire guns came
to bear, aimed at Al.

Smiling, Al looked from the troopers to Satan and said, "Sorry to
disappoint you gents, but I've got somewhere else to be."  And with
that Al let go with the full fury of the storm raging within his gut
*AAAAHHHHUUUURRRRPPPP*

The troopers fired their weapons, but by the time the hellfire reached
Al's position, he was already long gone.

Hellfire leapt from Satan's body, and the smell of brimstone filled
the air.  "Damn it all!!! I didn't know he'd mastered teleportation."
He raced to his desk, toasting the bass player who was in his way, and
turned on the paging system.  "Attention all troopers, demons, and
other meager employees!  Stop my son at all cost!  He is not to be
allowed to leave the confines of Hell(tm)!!!"

WILL AL ESCAPE?

WHERE'S EFRIAN?

JUST HOW REMARKABLE IS THE SUCCUBUS'S PORTFOLIO?

SATAN SINGS AND DANCES LIKE JAMES BROWN?

WHEN DID SATAN'S OFFICE GET SO HUGE?

WHAT OTHER DRINKS DOES HE STOCK IN HIS OFFICE?

DOES HE STOCK CHAMPAGNE?

DOES IT TASTE STRANGE?

WHY DOES FEAR SMELL SO GOOD?

The chase is on.  Here on...

                            ...SUPERGUY!!!

I promise the Author won't be the one driving.

                                        ---> Todd <---

Todd D. Perlmutter                      "I'm a firm believer, that no matter
Media Child                              what, the worst possible best thing
Paragon Imaging Inc.                     will always occur.  I guess that
Woburn Massachusetts                     makes me a pessimistic optimist."
toddp@paragon.com                                             --- Me

Note: If you think my views represent those of my company then you're mistaken.