The Department of Hate - A Love Story

by Anthony O'connor

  “My Lord, all of the major demons are telepathic, many of the minor ones too. You will be too ... when you ... um... get well ....my Lord.” But now they had moved into the auditorium itself and as interesting as all this was it was impossible to pay any further attention to him given the utter pandemonium breaking out in front of them.

  There were thousands of demons in long rows of seats, their eyes glued to a very large screen at the front of the auditorium. The pungent aroma of vast quantities of burning weed wafted through the air. Most of the demons lounged back in their seats – eyes glazed. But a number of them were agitated, jumping up and down, screaming at each other, and violently arguing. It was some kind of old sitcom, a rerun. Jarrod started to make it out. Gilligan! Gilligan’s island! Ginger and MaryAnne were arguing with the Professor. From the auditorium there were loud desperate cries of

  “MaryAnne, MaryAnne.” But competing with this were equally loud, equally desperate groans of

  “Ginger,Ginger.” They were clearly capable of destroying each other over the issue of which of the two women was the more desirable. Jarrod couldn’t fail to notice that hundreds of the demons were furiously masturbating – oblivious to everyone else. Jarrod watched all of this with some amazement. He said out loud

  “Well, that’s a bit bizarre.” He looked at Cassandra. She looked back at him, raised her eyebrows, shrugged.

  Nabarus wasn’t amused. He even seemed apologetic. He looked sadly out over the auditorium

  “Things have gone down hill since television my Lord - Gilligan’s Island, I Love Lucy, endless reruns. Most of them stoned to the eyeballs most of the time, and the rest, well ....” He pointed, vaguely. “At least they take an interest. The Nanny drives them crazy – and as for the Charmed Ones ... through the fucking roof.” Jarrod replied calmly

  “Not quite what I expected.” Nabarus clearly frustrated but more or less resigned to his own ineffectiveness replied

  “We are supposed to be corrupting them my Lord.” Cassandra had been listening carefully. She seemed puzzled. She spoke up

  “But why exactly?” Nabarus just looked at her, astonished that she had presumed to speak. He replied harshly

  “What!” Jarrod intervened

  “No, please explain.” He had a pretty good idea but wanted to hear it from Nabarus in his own words. Nabarus seemed uncertain

  “But you must know my Lord?” Jarrod replied

  “Humour me.” Nabarus stared back at Cassandra with open hostility but he dared not disobey. He spoke to her harshly and condescendingly

  “It’s very simple even for a human. God made the angels first. But he arbitrarily deemed some of us imperfect. His own fault by any rational assessment! He made us. He says we rebelled but how could we not. We fought but we were defeated and cast out – forever excluded, unworthy. Then he made you lot - physical creatures, material, flesh and blood, just animals, eating and shitting, disgusting, grotesque and stupid, feeble intellects, drive and will virtually non-existent, slobbering non-entities. But you were so favoured, so preferred. He even incarnated as one of you! What He sees in you I have no idea. But if we are to be excluded from Paradise there’s no way you stupid little fucks are getting in either.” Jarrod nodded. Milton said it better. But Cassandra seemed surprised. She spoke slowly and quietly

  “I never thought of it that way.” But then, taking note of Nabarus’s continued hostile glare, and taking exception to it, she looked out over the assemblage of dazed stoneheads, television addicts and fervid onanists, raised her voice and said defiantly

  “But then you are all such obvious examples of a superior master race.” If Jarrod hadn’t been there Nabarus would clearly have torn her limb from limb. As it was he had to just stand there, glowering. Jarrod was highly amused; he couldn’t have said it better.

  After Nabarus calmed down he motioned for them to follow him and walked along the side of the hall and then out another door towards the rear. He was leading them down a connecting corridor when they ran into another demon. Jarrod could see from his manner that the newcomer was of lower rank but not just a soldier. He instantly thought of him as some kind of clerk. Jarrod became suspicious; he knew this one from somewhere. Nabarus was completely dismissive

  “Out of the way Raum, I have no time for you now.” The demon Raum quickly stepped to the side of the corridor. Jarrod called out

  “Wait.” He looked carefully at Raum. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Raum seemed terrified. He stuttered

  “No, my Lord. No. No. Never, my Lord.” Nabarus was trying to figure out what was going on. He spoke to Beelzebub

  “This is Raum, my Lord. One of the assistants to Orias, who is chief assistant to Lord Gaap who runs the Department of Envy.” He was slowly getting used to the idea that Beelzebub didn’t remember any of this. But he knew it was only a matter of time until Beelzebub remembered everything and then anyone who had slighted him in any way, or failed to be fully cooperative, would regret it dearly.

  Jarrod was still staring at Raum trying to remember where he’d seen him. Raum was squirming in his place near the wall not daring to move from it. Jarrod questioned him further

  “What are you here for?” Raum answered slowly, still stuttering

  “I am requesting a transfer My Lord. Lord Gaap has approved. I just need ...” Nabarus spoke out loudly, interrupting him

  “He’ll be glad to get rid of you, no doubt.” Raum was notorious for shirking his duties in favour of his many recreational trips to Earth – not that he wasn’t secretly envied by many. Before Raum could reply to Nabarus, Jarrod spoke to him again, asking him

  “But where do I know you from?” Raum could hardly speak he was so scared

  “Nowhere my Lord, Nowhere. Nowhere.” He deeply regretted the incident in the church, or at least he regretted getting caught. Beelzebub would have him gutted and beheaded if he found out. Cast into the Pit too, went without saying. Impersonating a Lord was a serious offence. Cassandra was curious, she asked Jarrod

  “What’s going on, who is he?” Jarrod was losing interest

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen him before, somewhere.” Raum waited breathlessly for any verdict that might be coming. Cassandra looked him over

  “They all look the same to me. They’re all assholes.” Jarrod replied

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It doesn’t matter.” They moved on down the corridor with Nabarus. Raum was left leaning against the wall. He let out a great sigh of relief – as quietly as he could. That had been a close one. It had left him so anxious he could hardly wait for the next black mass or the next séance. He would pretend to be someone else though.

  Nabarus led them into what had to be the main office. It was large but plain and functional – no decorations at all, no colour. They waited just inside the door while he made his way to a large desk at the centre of the room. As he opened one of the drawers and reached into it he looked up and asked Jarrod

  “If I may ask my Lord, why are you going back to Earth and why now, there doesn’t seem much point?” Jarrod looked at him blankly

  “No, you may not ask.” Nabarus replied quickly

  “Yes my Lord, certainly my Lord.” He seemed to be rummaging through the drawer. He looked up, confused

  “It’s not here my Lord. I don’t understand, I checked earlier.” He thought about it for a few moments. “Lord Paimon must have taken it with him.” Jarrod hadn’t expected it to be too easy. Wearily, he asked

  “And where is Lord Paimon?” Nabarus hurried to explain

  “He is visiting Lord Marbas, my Lord – he runs the department of gluttony, next door. They are having a barbecue breakfast.” Jarrod knew there had to something more to it than that but decided not to ask, instead he demanded

  “Which one?” Nabarus answered

  “Next building around, heading towards the Great Hall, my Lord.” Jarrod turned to Cassandra.

  “I guess that’s where we’re going there now.” Cassand
ra replied simply

  “I guess so.” As they walked back through the auditorium they noticed that an episode of Charmed had started. All of the demons that weren’t completely stoned were reacting to it with great exuberance. The ones that were jerking off were really going for it - eyes glazed, bat shit crazy. Others called out. Earnest agonized professions of never ending love for Phoebe or Paige or Piper. Heartfelt groans of lust insatiable. Screams of triumph as the young witches vanquished yet another demon. One loud plaintive cry echoed out over the hall

  “Oh Piper, please Piper, show us your tits.”

  Once they were outside they started walking along the pathway to the next building – the Department of Gluttony, according to Nabarus. Jarrod wondered what fresh horrors this would reveal. Cassandra sighed

  “That was a bit weird, but it could have been worse. At least they weren’t hurting anyone.” Jarrod smiled sadly and pointed to their left. Lost souls were still pouring into the Pit, all of them screaming out in despair as they fell. Their number seemed to be increasing, quite noticeably. Cassandra replied glumly

  “Well, yes, there’s always that.” Jarrod reassured her

  “We will never, ever, end up in there.” But he knew that he couldn’t really be sure of that, and Cassandra knew it too.

  ***************

  When they reached the Department of Gluttony they were met at the door by one of Marbas’s aides who ushered them through a long series of corridors and into a large open room where some kind of party was in full swing. There were hundreds of demons - all of them obviously high ranking. They were well dressed, loud and pompous. The room had a large open skylight overhead and some kind of fighting ring in the middle. They couldn’t make out much about the ring - it was on a sunken level and surrounded by rows of demons tightly packed. The demons were watching something, avidly - screaming out encouragement or abuse as they deemed fit. Most of them had slave girls, standing beside them, naked, collared and leashed. On the other side of the sunken area, along the far wall, there was a long row of large barbecue grillers – on each of them a naked human, spitted, turning, slowly being grilled. There was a variety of shapes and sizes - a mixture of males and females. Cassandra moved in closer to Jarrod, holding him

  “This is horrible.” Jarrod felt exactly the same way. He looked about cautiously

  “There’s nothing we can do. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here.”

  A large demon, grossly overweight, came over to them. He stood there for a few moments catching his breathe. Like all of the others he completely ignored Cassandra. He spoke to Beelzebub

  “Lord Beelzebub, welcome.” He waited. He could see that Beelzebub had no idea who he was. He spoke again

  “I heard that you have amnesia but I had no idea it was so severe” he paused, “I am Lord Marbas, head of the Department of Gluttony, and surely your oldest and dearest friend.” Jarrod found that extremely unlikely, he could barely conceal his disgust. But Lord Lard Ass was already droning on. He forced himself to listen.

  “As you can see we’re celebrating. – a little feast, we’ve done well. The humans are fatter and stupider than ever before, well, most of them.” He paused again. He was quite satisfied with himself but then he remembered who he was talking to. “Not as well as you of course, I salute the Master.” He made a little flourishing motion with his overly large, fat hand which Jarrod found ridiculous. Jarrod and Cassandra both looked at him with some amazement. He was the first fat demon they had met. All of the others so far had had that celebrated lean and hungry look. He looked back at them also surprised.

  “What?” then realising what they were looking at he said to them “Oh this, it’s of no consequence. Occupational hazard! Nothing a few years on the treadmill wouldn’t fix if I wanted to, which I don’t.” He said the last part almost aggressively.

  An aide came up to Marbas, waiting politely to be asked to speak. Marbas let him wait for a few seconds then he demanded

  “So what do you want?” The aide replied

  “They’re all just about done my Lord.” He was clearly referring to the barbecue. Marbas replied effusively

  “Excellent! Excellent! How about the contest, must be finishing soon?” The aide replied

  “Yes my Lord, any minute now.” Marbas was pleased that things were going well and that he would soon be dining again. He almost purred

  “Fabulous.“ For a moment he seemed puzzled as if trying to remember something. He turned back to Beelzebub

  “Now you wanted to see Lord Paimon didn’t you. Come with me, he’s over there.”

  Marbas made his way down to the fighting ring. Jarrod and Cassandra followed him. He pushed his way through the crowd which parted easily enough as soon as the other demons saw who he was and especially who he was with. There were a few hushed whispers of ‘Beelzebub’. They came up beside a large demon in the front row, dressed as a lord, evidently Lord Paimon. Jarrod glanced out over the ring. He found himself looking down on a small area the size of a boxing ring. It was roped off. In the middle of the ring there were two extremely large grotesquely obese human beings – naked, males, probably. Surrounding them there were large quantities of food of all description. Each contestant was urgently and constantly stuffing food into his mouth as fast as he was able, compulsively and insanely – eyes bulging, faces contorted, appetites screaming and insatiable. The demons clearly had bets on the outcome and some of them were still exchanging bets – though on what the payout could be Jarrod was unclear. All of the demons were screaming at the humans

  “Eat, Eat, Eat” and abusing them with all manner of insults. Marbas could see that Beelzebub didn’t understand. He yelled at him, loudly enough for Jarrod and Cassandra to hear him above the clamour

  “They’re betting on which of the contestants pops first. Won’t be long now. They were both quite thin when it started. Would you believe that?” He pointed to the far wall and the grillers with some enthusiasm, “then we eat.” Cassandra groaned

  “Oh I think I’m going to be sick.” As she turned away the contestant on the left finally burst apart with a loud sloshing smacking sound. There were huge roars of approval from the watching demons. Around the room the losers handed over their slave girls to the winners. Some of the demons now had as many as five girls – nude, leashed, standing meekly beside them. The winners looked pleased with themselves. Jarrod thought to himself

  “Of course, I should have anticipated that.” Cassandra was watching with dismay. Jarrod wanted to reassure her. He knew she wouldn’t be able to hear him. He took her hand. This didn’t have the effect he was hoping for. She looked at him strangely. It had occurred to her that as far as they were all concerned she was just another slave girl and she belonged to him. That she was still even clothed was being put down to an eccentricity of Beelzebub’s – which of course none dared to question. Even more disturbingly, it was obvious that none of them believed that he was truly stuck as Jarrod, or that he would be for long.

  The demons spread out over the room, most of them heading for the barbecues. Marbas left them and headed that way also. The large demon beside them turned and introduced himself

  “Ah, Lord Beelzebub, happy to see you again.” He too had been told of Beelzebub’s apparent amnesia. “I am Lord Paimon, I run the Department of Sloth, I’m told you were just there, sorry I missed you.” Jarrod tried to size him up. He seemed to be quite energetic and determined – and even if he encouraged sloth he obviously didn’t practice it personally. Jarrod noted that he hadn’t been betting on the contest and that he didn’t have any slave girls with him. But Jarrod was about to find out what it was about this gathering that interested him. Paimon took him by the arm and led him towards the grillers. Cassandra followed, reluctantly. Paimon seemed quite enthusiastic.

  “Marbas always puts on a good spread. These ones!” he pointed to the bodies on the grillers “They were only recently caught. Put on the spits while still alive. Completely fresh.
Absolutely delicious.” Jarrod was puzzled

  “What do you mean, how can that be?” Paimon was happy to explain

  “We catch them in raids, we go out through the portal, bring them back that way. We keep them alive, in pens, until we’re ready. I went on the last raid myself, simply exhilarating. Ah the pleasure of the hunt. Hard to beat.” Jarrod was still puzzled

  “They’re alive? Here? What about their souls?” Paimon was now puzzled by Beelzebub’s apparent obtuseness. Be he would never openly express it. He continued to explain, patiently and cautiously

  “Well, they’re dead once we spit them. The soul separates at death as it always does. Takes the same form as the body and then falls into the pit – or goes to the other place, but that hardly ever happens. We could catch it, cook it and eat it too, but it’s not the same – bland and tasteless, no fat, no juice.” Cassandra looked like she was going to be sick again. Jarrod was also disturbed by what he was hearing but was carefully suppressing it. Paimon looked around idly; he seemed wistful for a moment

  “We’ve still got a couple of dozen in the pens. We might as well eat them all now. Soon we’ll dine on them up there – but they will no longer exist in abundance of course.”

  Jarrod had had enough. This whole place was absurd. He couldn’t wait to get out. No matter how bad it was going to get on earth it was still better than here. He spoke sharply

  “Look, you know why I’m here. I want the compass.” Paimon looked back at him patiently.

  “Of course, I forgot all about it this morning. Grabbed it out of habit. You’re welcome to it.” He reached into his robe, withdrew an object the size and shape of a small saucer and handed it over. Jarrod examined it eagerly. He opened the top and saw a needle, immersed in some kind of fluid, pointing in a fixed direction - which he quickly verified by turning around and watching it turn about in response so that it maintained the same direction. It was a great relief to finally be holding it in his hands. Cassandra watched on with great interest. He smiled at her, and said