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It wasn’t a nice day, but then again this is Hell, and Hell’s not meant to be nice. Nor do days really exist, so a more accurate introduction would probably be: it was a regular day in Hell.
The general morale in Hell had decreased rapidly as of late. To be honest, it was never that high in the first place. With an increase in human souls needing to be tormented for the rest of eternity, it meant that a large majority of Hell was desperately understaffed. This half worked to Hell’s advantage, after all, paperwork taking too long to be submitted only added to the psychological torture of the humans.
However, it didn’t help any of the demons out. Too many demons working in human resources had caused an insane backlash of souls to be transferred into their designated eternal misery. This of course meant that the lower demons working on soul submission had to go into unpaid overtime.
“This is ridiculous!” Furfur had decided that he was long over due a break. He now found himself in the spare staff room that had remained uncleaned since BC. “We can’t keep going unpaid for absolutely no reason, why can’t we force some of the old humans to help out, get them working. It’s no use having them sit back and put no effort into being tortured, is there.”
“Hmm. You do have a point, but it would look like Hell’s incompetent.” And then hastily, “Which it isn’t.”
Much to Shax’s dismay, her and Furfur often found themselves bunking off work at around the same time. It was truly awful but it did offer a good opportunity to catch up on the latest rumours milling around.
“You know, back in the beginning me and Crowley were both put up for the opportunity to go to Earth. Now imagine that. I could have been actually making a difference up top, causing mass chaos and disruption. But instead, HE gets to swan around doing whatever he pleases and taking no notice of any of the paper work we have to fill out on his behalf. Utterly ridiculous.”
Shax leaned forward, half to whisper discreetly to Furfur, half to get other demons attentions so that they would want to over hear her whisperings.
“What made you think Crowley was fraternising with that angel? I mean it isn’t far fetched but let’s face it, you did a God-awful job at getting the evidence.”
Furfur reeled back offended, “I’ll have you know I got a clear photograph of him and Azirapphale and they did something to sabotage it! I know what I saw!”
Shax briefly glanced in the direction of some other demons gathered on the next table over, they all stared unashamedly, not at all concerned that their earwigging had been spotted.
“What was the photograph exactly? How scandalous are we talking?”
Furfur looked satisfied with himself, “The angel was passing Crowley a gun.”
Shax faltered. “A gun?”
“A human gun.” Confirmed Furfur, feeling truly smug for the first time in a good few decades.
“Well.” Started Shax, “That’s hardly incriminating evidence is it.”
Furfur once again dramatically expressed his frustration via a strangled huff. “Hardly incriminating? Didn’t you hear what I said!”
“Well maybe it was part of Crowley’s plan, I mean, shooting an angel.” Shax paused to revel in the idea. “No demon has harmed an angel in century’s, he’d have gotten a promotion without any hesitation.”
“No, see. You’re missing the point. His intentions weren’t to harm the angel. Quite the opposite in fact!” Furfur waggled a pointed finger to further emphasise his point. “If you ask me, they looked rather…” he struggled to find the right words, “Too comfortable, together.”
Shax leaned back into her chair, impatience growing like mould on cheese. From the next table over one of the demons screeched their chair across the floor and positioned it facing Furfur. Everyone’s attention turned to him.
“A few hundred years ago we caught Crowley performing a miracle. His excuse was that he got really drunk on some human drink and thought it would be a laugh to mess with a human.”
“I’m sorry, you are?” said Shax, now just plainly irritated.
“Ligur.” Spat the other demon. “Me and Hastur ‘ve been keeping an eye on Crowley. Don’t trust him. I reckon you’re onto something Furfur.” Furfur looked chuffed.
“See!” he nodded at Shax, “I’m not the only one who thinks there’s something fishy going on here.”
Ligur pointed to random demons before saying, “Mark my words that bastard’s playing his own game. Always has been.”
Shax just rolled her eyes. “You know for a demon you’re far too paranoid. Crowley hardly has it in him to smite you.”
“Ooh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Furfur had never found comfort in guessing the motives of the more unpredictable demons, and he damn well wasn’t about to start second guessing himself now.
“Furfur’s right.” Groaned Ligur, “He’ll never get me, mind. I’m always one step ahead.”
“Really.” Shax wasn’t at all convinced, Ligur wouldn’t be able to spot a trap if he walked right into one, but that was his problem so Shax kept those thoughts to herself.
“The way I see it, so long as Crowley keeps working for us where’s the harm in him tempting an angel every so often. After all, he’d be one of the only demons to not have been smited or discorporated by an angel after instantly being spotted.” Shax stood to leave, satisfied that they wrapped the insane conversation up.
But Furfur had other plans. His voice dropped to a superstitious tone, “I reckon it’s more than that though.”
Ligur perked up. “What do you mean more?”
“I mean.” Furfur considered how was best to raise his suspicions, “You know that feeling you get when you really hate someone?” both demons nodded, “Yes? Well, think about how the opposite of that would feel. Now it’s that feeling that I think Crowley feels towards the angel.”
Heavy suspense filled the air and a thick silence rattled out through the staff room. Then like a frying pan to a mirror, laughter shattered the silence. Almost every demon in the room was doubled over laughing at what Furfur had suggested – it got to a point where if demons had to breathe, they would each be needing emergency oxygen masks.
Furfur stood abruptly, feeling mildly embarrassed but mostly frustrated. “Fine! Fine! You lot laugh it up go on. But when you realise I’m right I expect all of you to give me credit for calling it first!”
With that Furfur stormed out of the room, or rather he tried to, only he accidently pushed the pull door and it majorly ruined his moment. However, it did lead to another chorus of laughter – laughter that would continue to echo through the corridors of hell for many decades to come, laughter that would only cease when a trial was held for the notorious demon known as Crowley.
To save the demons who laughed from admitting Furfur was right, they did the only other logical thing they could think of – they demoted him.