Blasphemy! 2! Jesus Goes To Hell on Vacation!

Welcome back to Hell.

First:

This is a sequel. If you haven’t read the first story, nothing that follows will make any sense. That being said, nothing about this story will make any sense either, but whatever! If you haven’t read Blasphemy! you need to start there before continuing here. It’s free and at the link below. Please read the warnings at the beginning. I will be posting similar warnings below.

Blasphemy!

(Note: the download links for different formats of the first story no longer work. Just read it on the blog. Same with this story.)

Second:

In a sentence I never thought I’d write (but in retrospect seems inevitable), if you are religious and/or find the idea of Jesus on a quest to lose his virginity offensive, this is not a story for you. That’s okay! Just click back and you can go on about your day. What’s not okay is giving me shit over it, or giving others shit for reading it. Any comments about how this is wrong or evil or blasphemous (ha! get it? because that’s what the story is called!) will be deleted, but not before I take a screenshot of the comment and put you on blast on social media where many people will make fun of you. Don’t like it, don’t read it. It’s that easy. If you don’t like it because it’s stupid, then that’s perfectly okay! It’s very stupid.

Also, this is an 18+ story. If you are under age, give this a pass so I don’t get yelled at by your parents for corrupting their child with trash fiction. This is not The House in the Cerulean Sea. This is not The Extraordinaries. This is an adult story with adults doing adult things.

Third:

This is 30K words long. I’m not charging for it. However, if you’re in a giving mood and would have gladly paid for this story, please consider donating to The Trevor Project, a LGBTQIA charity that is near and dear to my heart. They help at-risk and/or suicidal queer youth, and their mission is more important than ever. Five bucks, ten bucks or more, any would help. Click on the link below to be taken to the donation page for The Trevor Project. It would really help you score some points with God because he loves queer people and hates homophobes. Trust me on that.

The Trevor Project Donation

(Or, if you’re outside of the US, please pick a queer charity in your country. There are so many that could use the funds.)

Fourth:

This story was beta read by Lynn, Mia and Amy, all of whom gave valuable insight and didn’t question (at least to me) what is wrong with my brain. You are the best beta readers a guy could ask for. Thank you.

And lastly:

This story is dedicated to people who illegally pirate my books. Trust me. You’ve earned it. Fuck you.

love,

tj

Cover art by the incredible Mariana Avilez
Follow her on Twitter and Instagram

Blasphemy! 2!

Jesus goes to hell on vacation

Once upon a time, James David Davidson (Jimmy to his friends) wanted a billion dollars and also some nachos, a dream many twenty-one-year-old twinks have.

Unfortunately for Jimmy, this was a dream denied. You see, nachos cost money. Whether buying them from a rusty truck parked in the dirt lot of a closed Dollar Store in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico or purchasing the ingredients from the store and making them himself, both required funds that Jimmy did not have. Hence the desire for a billion dollars, though not all of it would go to nachos. Jimmy had allotted one percent for food, thirty-two percent to try and get some friends, and the remaining sixty-seven percent going to an organization whose sole purpose was to prove the existence of extraterrestrials.

(Yes, this organization was a doomsday cult lead by a man named Benevolent Miguel who believed aliens had already infiltrated the highest levels of the government and were planning to make humanity their slaves. But Benevolent Miguel was hot and could do this thing with his tongue that made Jimmy’s eyes roll back into his head, and he also made a strange sort of sense. After all, Republicans couldn’t be human, seeing as how they always voted against the best interests of the people they were supposed to represent. Ergo, aliens bent on the destruction of the planet. It was certainly plausible. The same could be said about a large portion of Democrats.)

But for the life of him, Jimmy couldn’t figure out how to get a billion dollars and also some nachos. No matter what he did, nothing seemed to work. No one was very interested in investing in the business plan he’d spent six hours creating—“Designer shoes for llamas! We’ll call them Llamaboutins!”—and it had been a blow to Jimmy’s sense of inventiveness. He often wondered if Einstein or Ariana Grande felt the same way.

So he did the one thing twinks often do when no one takes their plans seriously. No, not ketamine. Instead, he summoned a demon.

It wasn’t his idea, of course. Jimmy was many things: a power bottom, a walking disaster, the first person to ever be suspended from Hot Springs High School for accidentally exposing his penis during the student production of Brigadoon (long story—even longer than Brigadoon, heyo!) but a great thinker he was not. The thought of summoning a demon wasn’t even on his mind.

Not on his mind, that is, until a wizard named Terrence came into Pizza World on a Tuesday night toward the end of Jimmy’s shift.

Jimmy was alone in Pizza World, leaning against the counter and staring down at his phone, wondering if he should text Benevolent Miguel again or not. He knew Benevolent Miguel was busy chasing a lead; evidently Senator Mitch McConnell was secretly an evil, hideous alien wearing a poorly-fitting human costume, but that was yesterday, and Jimmy was bored out of his mind. He also wanted to get fucked, but one thing at a time.

He was frowning down at his phone, thumbs hovering over the screen when the front door to Pizza World opened, the little bell hanging above tinkling.

Jimmy sighed as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “Welcome to Pizza World, where we bring you pizza from all over the world. Might I suggest you try the special? It has olives and chicken with a thick layer of pesto and topped with aged pineapple. It comes from one of the pizza capitals of the world, Charleston, West Virginia. Fair warning, it’s pretty gross, but hey, you do you. I’m not paid enough to care either way.”

“Dude, that sounds awful,” a voice said. “Give humans free will and this is what they come up with? I should’ve just made more panda bears. Everybody loves panda bears.”

Jimmy lifted his head.

There, standing in front of the counter, was a man.

He was unlike any man Jimmy had ever seen before. He wore a long flowing robe of gray, his feet bare, a devious twinkle in his blue eyes. His bushy white beard lay on his barrel chest, and he carried a wooden staff. He was ridiculously attractive, and Jimmy wondered if he was a daddy looking for a baby boy to spend his immense fortune on. With this in mind, Jimmy decided it was best to start with a compliment, as one does when faced with a potential sugar daddy.

“Wow,” Jimmy said, batting his eyelashes. “I didn’t know there was a Lord of the Rings convention in town. Your Gandalf costume is so good. Do you want to battle my Helm’s Deep?”

The man stared at him. “That was…what it was. Jimmy, right?”

Jimmy blinked. “How did you know my name? Did Tank send you? I swear I’ll have the money next week! Maybe. Let’s be safe and say three years from next year.”

“Tank,” the man repeated as he shook his head. “Give the gift of language and people call themselves Tank.” He closed his eyes and lowered his voice. “Go easy, big guy. Stop thinking about wiping everyone out and starting over.”

“His real name is Vin Diesel,” Jimmy said.

The man opened his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I know your name because you’re wearing a name tag.”

Jimmy looked down. His Pizza World uniform—a black button up shirt over baggy khakis—looked like it always did, oppressive to anyone with a sense of fashion and stained with tomato sauce. Jimmy had tried to get the owner of Pizza World—a frumpy man named Bethesda with frizzy hair and nicotine-stained teeth—to switch it up a little. He thought they’d sell more pizzas if he was allowed to wear booty shorts and a crop top, but Bethesda said it was illegal for reasons Jimmy didn’t listen to because it was boring.

On his chest above his left nipple was his name tag that proclaimed him to be JIMMY! PIZZA EXPERT! “Oh,” Jimmy said. “I forgot about that. Yeah, I’m Jimmy, and I live to serve.” He picked up a stray piece of shredded mozzarella. Making sure the man was watching, he stuck it in his mouth, sucking on his fingers, swirling his tongue. He pulled them out with a wet pop and grinned at the man. “How may I service you?”

“Welp,” the man said, leaning on his staff. “That just happened. Does that usually work?”

 Jimmy shrugged. “When I had a car, I was pulled over six times and I only got one ticket.”

“What does that have to do with—ah. I see.” The man chuckled. “He’s gonna flip the fuck out. I can’t wait to see it. Yeah, you’ll do just fine.”

“For what?” Jimmy asked. “It better not be for another doomsday cult. I was already in one of those, and it didn’t really take.”

The man blinked. “Come again?”

“Maybe if you’re nice,” Jimmy said sweetly. “My recovery period is very, very fast.”

The man stared at him. Then, “How fast is very, very—nope, nope, nope. Stop it. I’m not here for that.”

Jimmy pouted. “Aw. But you look like you could pick me up with one arm.”

“Oh, I could,” the man said, and he pretended not to flex even though he very clearly was. The robe did little to hide the muscles in his arms. “But I have something else in mind.”

Jimmy nodded sagely. “I’m not into piss play, but I’m pretty much game for anything else.”

The skin under the man’s right eye twitched. “What.”

“What what?” Jimmy asked.

“My name is Terrence,” the man said. “And I come to you with an offer.”

“Terrence,” Jimmy said. “How erotic.”

“You really need to get out more,” Terrence said. “But then I’m in New Mexico, and that’s pretty much the state motto. Tell me, Jimmy, do you believe in God?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I have no idea. Seems kind of weird to have a sky daddy who’s supposed to be this all powerful being. If he’s real, it’s not like he’s doing much for me, but what do I know?”

Terrence frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I make minimum wage working at a place called Pizza World in the Southwest. Does this look like a place God would know about?”

“I think you’d be surprised,” Terrence said. “And there’s nothing wrong with working here.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Says the wizard.”

“I’m not a wiz—forget it. Even if you don’t believe in God, he believes in you.”

“Cool,” Jimmy said. “Then why does it matter if I believe in him or not?”

Terrence gaped at him.

“Wow,” Jimmy said, impressed. “Your mouth is very big.” He rubbed a hand down his chest. “Which is good because I’m also big. And by that, I mean my—”

“I know what you mean,” Terrence said. “And we both know you’re average, not that there’s anything wrong with that. No, you’re not for me. I have something else in mind.”

“Your wizard friends all taking turns by performing spells on my nude body?” Jimmy asked hopefully. “I don’t know why everyone complains about gangbangs. You meet so many interesting people that way.”

Terrence chuckled. “Yeah, I know. There was this one time I—okay. The air here is really affecting my judgment, and that’s not a good thing. I’m not talking about gangbangs.”

Jimmy pouted. “Aw, sugar-tits. Are you sure?”

“No,” Terrence said. “Wait, yes. Yes, I’m sure. So sure. Stop distracting me. I’m here to help make all your dreams come true. Tell me, Jimmy. What do you know of demons?”

Jimmy furrowed his brow. “Like…demon demons?”

Terrence took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. Then, “Yes. Like demon demons.”

“Not much,” Jimmy said. This was an interesting conversation to be sure, but definitely not the most interesting he’d ever had while working at Pizza World. That belonged to a guy named Martin Smith who’d said the president had told him there was a secret room underneath Pizza World where terrible things happened. He’d also had a knife, but Jimmy had something even better: a can of cooking spray. He’d sprayed the man in the face and then called the police. Martin had been arrested and Jimmy didn’t find a secret room. Martin must have meant a different pizza place. “I haven’t met one, so I couldn’t tell you about them at all.”

“But you believe they exist?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Well, sure. They’re kind of like Bigfoot in that I’ve seen blurry pictures of them. I had a thing for Bigfoot when I was twelve. I thought that made me a furry, but it gets too hot in a furry costume, so I decided I was probably just a monster-fucker instead. It made things easier.”

“Good,” Terrence said. “That’s real good. What if I were to tell you that all you needed to do in order to make your dreams come true was to summon a demon?”

Jimmy squinted at him. “Isn’t that bad? Aren’t demons supposed to be the bad guys?”

Terrence scoffed. “They’re misunderstood. Sure, some of them are dicks, but then I could tell you the same about angels. Seriously. Fuck those motherfuckers right in their faces. Vengeful bitches. Who the hell has a flaming sword? I certainly didn’t authorize that because it wasn’t in the budget. This isn’t a medamn democracy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jimmy told him, “but we don’t let weapons in here anymore. Except for guns. Anyone can bring in a gun.”

“America,” Terrence mumbled. “What a waste.” He shook his head. “Forget the flaming sword thing. I have it on good authority that if you were to go out into the desert and find a crossroads, you’ll be able to summon a demon. You just need to bury something you love in the dirt in the middle of the crossroads and make a wish. A demon will come and grant your wish.”

“Sounds fake, but okay,” Jimmy said.

“It’s real,” Terrence insisted.

“What do I have to give the demon in return?” Jimmy asked. “My soul or something?”

“Or something,” Terrence said, eye shifting side to side. “I think you’ll be…surprised, at what you find there. What could it hurt?”

“Fair,” Jimmy said. “It’s not as if I’m using my soul for anything else.”

Terrence frowned. “It’s a good soul. A bit lost, but good nonetheless.”

“Then why would I want to give it away?”

Terrence waited a beat or six, then said,“You are a strange little creature.”

“Thank you,” Jimmy said. “I can touch the ground without bending my legs. Isn’t that awesome?”

Terrence choked on his tongue. “Yeah, you’ll do, all right. I can’t think of anyone better, in fact.” He took a step back toward the door while raising one hand, finger extended toward Jimmy. “Go to the crossroads, James David Davidson. Bury your love, make your wish and see what your devotion has brought you.” He wiggled his fingers mysteriously. “And now, I will disappear right in front of your very eyes. Oooh. Oooooooh.”

The lights in the restaurant began to flicker. Jimmy looked up, brow furrowed. He hoped it wasn’t rats chewing on the wiring again. Pizza World had almost got shut down the last time that happened.

“Medammit,” Terrence said, and Jimmy looked at him. He was trying to push open the door, but it wasn’t working.

“You have to pull on it,” Jimmy said.

“Right,” Terrence muttered. “I knew that. And now, I will really disappear. Get thee to the desert, James David Davidson. OOOOOOOH.”

He walked out the door, the bell tinkling.

And then he pressed his face against the glass, hands cupped around his eyes, staff poking his right ear.

Jimmy waved at him.

Terrence waved back and walked out of sight.

“He didn’t even order anything,” Jimmy said, and then promptly forgot all about it.

*****

Until, that is, ten minutes after his shift ended for the night. He was walking home when he remembered Terrence. Terrence, who told him something he hadn’t known without asking Jimmy to get on his knees first. Not that Jimmy would have minded, but still, it was odd, getting something without being asked for anything in return, like his mouth or butthole.

When he got home—a shitty studio apartment with posters of a naked Indiana Jones getting railed by his PhD students hanging on the walls—he flicked on the light and sighed. He didn’t have much, but then he never really needed much. Still, would it be too much to ask for someone to come and sweep him off his feet and pay for everything so that Jimmy never had to work another day in his life? Someone who understood that Jimmy might be slightly out of his mind but who also wanted him to spend his days worshipping a fat cock? Yes, some people wanted to be doctors, and some wanted to be bakers. Jimmy wanted to be a cock warmer. Should his dreams matter any less?

“No,” he said to himself. “They shouldn’t.”

With this thought in mind, he changed out of his uniform and into black jeans and a midriff jersey that proudly proclaimed him to be a power bottom, some of the nicest clothes he owned, though they weren’t for everyday wear. He twirled in front of the mirror, liking how his ass filled out the jeans.

Now that he looked like sex on legs, a new set of problems presented itself. He wasn’t quite sure where to find a crossroads, but most roads crossed at some point or another, so he didn’t think he’d have to go far.

And the other problem: what did he love above all else that could be buried?

He could bury Chris Evans, but then he didn’t know where Chris Evans lived, and he didn’t have time to find out.

(Not that he could even if he wanted to; Mr. Evans had a restraining order out on Jimmy that prevented him from coming within six miles of the former Captain America. It was mostly a misunderstanding involving stalking.)

He could bury the decorative fork he’d found at a swap meet—the one with bent tines and the words STICK ME IN YOUR MOUTH written on the handle—but that was his only fork, and he didn’t want to lose it. He needed it for canned ravioli.

In the end, he decided to bury his silver lighter, one he’d stolen from a police evidence lockup when he was sixteen. What happened on that hot summer day need not be rehashed in great detail here, but the short version was that Jimmy had been a hostage in a gas station robbery gone awry, which led to a long, delightful conversation with a crazed woman who believed the FBI was spying on her through the fillings in her teeth, followed by flashbang grenades exploding and Jimmy being taken to the police station to give a statement. All in all, not a bad birthday if he was being honest with himself.

He’d miss the lighter, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t set things on fire using other stuff. After all, everything was flammable if you tried hard enough.

So he picked up the lighter, looked around at his apartment one last time, and left to find a crossroads that would allow him to summon a demon who would give him a billion dollars and also some nachos.

The perfect plan.

*****

He had no idea how perfect it would be. Because instead of a lowly demon named Derek (which was such a demonic name), he instead somehow managed to summon someone else entirely.

The Lord of All Demons.

The Dark Angel.

The King of Hell.

Satan.

Satan, who stood at least fifteen feet tall, and had red skin covering the dadbod to end all dadbods. With black horns sticking out of his head, and a big stomach that just begged to be licked, Jimmy was immediately and irrevocably in lust. Maybe even a little bit in love. It certainly didn’t hurt that Satan was wearing suspenders with no shirt, nor the fact his pants did little to hide the size of his cock. Jimmy wasn’t necessarily a size-queen (this was a lie), but he was relieved that Satan seemed proportional everywhere. It made his anus quiver in anticipation.

With this in mind, Jimmy did what most would do in his situation: he decided right then and there that Satan would be his boyfriend, and that they would live happily ever after in a co-dependent relationship that wasn’t remotely unhealthy no matter the red flags raised. Dream big, kids. Always dream big.

Which is why Jimmy stepped into the light bursting from the center of the crossroads and followed Satan back to Hell.

And became the Queen of Hell.

They lived happily ever after in a life filled with fire and brimstone and sex at one of the many minigolf courses populating the underworld.

That was two years ago.

This was now:

“Oh fuck,” Jimmy moaned, bent over Satan’s desk in his office and writhing. “You’re rearranging my guts! Yes, yes. Oooh, I can feel you inside me, moving around. I can’t believe you latched yourself to my face and shoved your babies down my throat. Oh no, are you going to burst right through my chest? I think you are! Oh my god, here it comes. Here it comes! Blargh, ech, blood, blood, guts and blood. Time to escape in my spaceship!” He stood up. “And that was the plot of the movie Alien, starring Sigourney Weaver and directed by Ridley Scott.” He bowed.

Satan stared at him from his chair, his long legs stretched out before him, hands clasped over his bare stomach. “Okay,” he said slowly. “That was…interesting. But what does that have to do with the meeting I have with God in five minutes?”

“Nothing!” Jimmy said cheerfully as he climbed into Satan’s lap, the Devil’s big hands coming to rest on his hips. “I just really like that movie. I mean, it’s no Maid in Manhattan, but it’s still pretty cool.” He kissed Satan on the tip of his nose.

Satan sighed. “I never should’ve told you about that.”

“Nah,” Jimmy said, wiggling around until he was comfortable. Satan didn’t seem to mind if that bulge under Jimmy’s ass was any indication. “I love that about you. It shows you’re sensitive.”

“Sensitive,” Satan repeated. “I’m fucking Satan. I’m not supposed to be sensitive.”

“I’m also fucking Satan,” Jimmy said. “Hurray!”

Satan rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, you dork.” He hugged Jimmy close. Jimmy closed his eyes, laying his head against Satan’s chest. It was familiar, this, and warm. Satan meant safety. Satan meant happiness. Satan meant Jimmy never had to be alone again, and though he sometimes missed Earth, it was a negligible thing that he was able to ignore. He’d found where he belonged, and if anyone tried to take that from him, he’d murder them without a second thought. That was what one did for love.

And it was love. Jimmy knew that down to his bones. Satan had been the one to say it first. He’d come home one day and found Jimmy spread out in their bed, hands clasping the headboard, legs raised, knees against his chest. He had, of course, been naked, and Satan had practically torn his own clothes off before fucking Jimmy within an inch of his life. Right before he’d come, he’d whispered, “I fucking love you, what the fuck.”

Jimmy had orgasmed right then.

When he’d come down from the high, his body a vibrating pile of mush, Satan laying on top of him, he’d looked up into Satan’s blazing eyes and whispered, “I love you too, you big goof.”

Satan had kissed him, and it was the best moment of Jimmy’s life.

But somehow, it’d gotten even better. Satan had finally given in to Jimmy’s desire to be the Queen of Hell, and Jimmy had taken to his new job with gusto. Hell, as it turned out, wasn’t as bad as most people made it out to be. Yes, it was filled with endless, black pits containing the evil and the damned, all wailing while they were tortured for an eternity for their wrongdoings in life. And yes, the color scheme was mostly red and black, what with all the smoldering fires and stone buildings. And yes, some of the demons didn’t think a human should be the Queen of Hell, but Satan had killed all of them by kicking them into lava which, of course, made Jimmy swoon and climb Satan like a tree, demanding that they play It’s Almost Winter where Jimmy was a tree who needed Satan the squirrel to fill him with his nuts.

But Hell was actually pretty cool, more so because Jimmy had taken over the day-to-day operations, allowing Satan to turn his focus to bigger, more important things. Donna, Satan’s assistant and former Black Widow of Sacramento, had become Jimmy’s assistant too. They were thick as thieves, the two of them, Donna listening to all of Jimmy’s ideas (“We should have weekly meetings with all the demons and raffle off door prizes like jerky or a 2003 Honda Civic with no air conditioning!”) while providing a few ideas of her own (“We should find a rich man, seduce him, marry him, and then murder him and take all his money”).

It had been Jimmy who’d decided that algebra was stupid and therefore banned in Hell.

It had been Jimmy who’d decided that innocent souls shouldn’t be harvested, no matter what they decided to bury in the crossroads.

It had been Jimmy who’d decided that every morning should start with puppies because puppies made everything better. (Yes, they had to lease puppies from Heaven because all dogs went to Heaven, just like the movie proclaimed, but it was worth it.)

It had been Jimmy who’d decided that Satan needed to take off at least one day per week, something Satan had been resistant to, at least at first. Then Jimmy had gone down on him, all while reminding him that Donna did more than the two of them combined, and therefore would be fine with Satan having a day off. Satan had agreed, but only after Jimmy promised to never bring up Donna again while sucking him off.

Hell was better than it’d ever been before. A Starbucks on every corner (sometimes six on one block), more mini-golf courses than was necessary, and the screams of the damned filling the air.

Which is why it was a little concerning when God had requested a meeting outside of his and Satan’s usual time. Normally, they spoke once a week just to check in, but last night, God had sent a message, saying they needed to talk, that it was urgent. Jimmy had pouted as he’d ridden Satan into the mattress, but when God asked, Jimmy knew they needed to listen. Satan said he didn’t know what it was about.

And that was how they’d found themselves in Satan’s office, waiting for God to call. Jimmy wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up acting out the plot from Alien, but that was neither here nor there. He didn’t know why he did most of the things he did.

He turned when someone knocked on the door to the office, Satan grunting and muttering that Jimmy was gonna get it later.

The door opened, and Donna stuck her head in, white hair sitting like a fluffy cloud on her head. She looked like a kindly grandmother as she smiled at Jimmy and Satan, the wrinkles on her face deep and kind. This was the last face six men saw before they died. Jimmy loved her to pieces, not despite her murderous tendencies, but perhaps because of them.

“Looking good, girl,” Jimmy said as Satan snorted above him. “If I was straight, I’d get all up on that.”

Donna’s smile widened. “I thank my lucky stars that while most queer people go to Heaven, you decided to slum it with the rest of us. And be grateful you’re not straight. It’s one of the few things that keeps me from poisoning you after spending years making you think I loved you. It also helps that you’re not rich.”

“I sort of am, though,” Jimmy said. “I’m the Queen of Hell, after all. What’s Satan’s is mine.”

“Oh,” Donna said. “Well, maybe if you and the boss man don’t work out, we could go on a date and see what’s what. We have so many things in common! We like trees and pudding and both of us don’t have a gag reflex.”

“You’re not murdering him,” Satan growled, tightening his hold on Jimmy.

Donna sighed. “Of course I won’t, it was just an idea. Besides, I’m far too busy to be murdering anyone. Today.”

“Hurray!” Jimmy crowed. “I like being alive.” He frowned. “Wait, am I dead since I’m in Hell or…” He shrugged. “Ah, who cares. Logic is for suckers.”

“I wanted to see if you needed anything from me before God calls,” Donna asked. “I was going to go on my lunch break. I can bring you something back if you’d like.”

Jimmy gagged. “You always bring back hummus which is disgusting.”

“Well, yes. We’re in Hell. Hummus is the most popular food here. That and boiled peas.” She paused. “Sometimes boiled peas in hummus, but that’s only for special occasions.”

“We’re good,” Satan said. “I’ll make sure he eats.”

“See that you do,” Donna said. “He’s skinny enough as it is. Wouldn’t want him wasting away. A queen needs their strength. I’ll wait until God calls and put him through before I leave.” She glared at Satan. “And you. Make sure you don’t give God any shit like you normally do. He rarely asks for help. This must be important, so don’t give him any guff. I don’t want anything to prevent us from getting Lindsey Graham when his time comes.”

Satan snorted. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

Donna winked at Jimmy and closed the door.

Jimmy leaned back against Satan, looking up at him. “Who’s Lindsey Graham?”

“Absolutely no one important,” Satan told him. “In fact, he might be one of the least important people in the history of anything ever, even though he doesn’t seem to think so. Which, of course, makes him eminently insufferable.” He jostled Jimmy slightly. “You don’t have to stick around for the call if you don’t want to.” Satan leaned his face down towards Jimmy’s head, breathing him in deeply. “You could go home and wait for me there.”

“Nah,” Jimmy said. “You’d miss me too much.” He reached up and began to stroke Satan’s thick horns, feeling Satan relaxed underneath him. “See? You need me. I make everything better.”

Satan chuckled against his head. “You really do.”

The phone on Satan’s desk beeped. Donna’s voice crackled through the speakers. “God for you on video chat line one.”

“Thanks, Donna,” Satan said as the computer screen lit up with a blinding white light, causing Jimmy to look away so it wouldn’t hurt his eyes.

“Hey, motherfucker,” God said as he appeared on the screen. “And Jimmy!” His smile widened. “Dude, how are you?”

“Hi, Terrance and/or God,” Jimmy said with a wave. “I’m really good! Guess what?”

“What?”

“I met someone who said he knew you!”

God rolled his eyes. “You know how many people say they know me? Literally billions. Fucking leeches. What was his name?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I didn’t ask. He was on a rack being stretched by Derek and Hank, but he sure was screaming for you.”

God arched a bushy eyebrow. “Bro?”

Satan waved a hand at the screen. “One of the popes who tried to cover up sexual abuse. You know how it is.”

“Because that narrows it down.” God sat back in his cloud chair and rubbed his face. “You know, when I said I made people in my image and wanted them to worship me, I expected them to take me at my word.” He grimaced. “Instead, they decided to try and interpret what I said and completely screwed things up. Like, what the hell, man? Thought about flooding everything again, but Noah still has PTSD from all the animals shitting on his stupid boat and begged me to reconsider.”

“That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” Satan said.

God shook his head. “Believe me, you’re better off for it. Yap, yap, yap, that’s all he does. But that’s not why I called.” He sat forward again, resting his chin on his hands. “I need your help with something.”

Though Jimmy knew this was the point of God’s call, it was still a little surprising to hear him say such things. Heaven and Hell were kept independent from each other, God understanding that he couldn’t interfere with Satan’s work, just as Satan didn’t try and do the same with him. At first, they’d butted heads, but Satan had said God had chilled over the years and knew that his brother was doing the necessary work to keep the balance. For light, there needed to be dark. It didn’t hurt that God could be a vindictive bastard when he wanted to be.

“What is it?” Satan asked. “The last time you needed my help, I accidentally released the bubonic plague.”

God snorted. “Accidentally. Listen to this chucklefuck. Accidentally my holy ass.”

Satan shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“No, this is bigger than that. Much bigger.” God pressed a button on his screen, and a moment later, a picture opened on Satan’s computer. In it, a smiling family stood in front of a large building. Three men, three women, the oldest of the men giving a thumbs up to the camera while the others stood on either side of him. Jimmy didn’t recognize any of them. The women were pretty in the way alligators were, their eyes cold and flat with rows upon rows of teeth in their gaping maws. The men looked like idiots which was, of course, worse.

“Oh shit,” Satan breathed, leaning forward, holding Jimmy to make sure he didn’t fall to the ground. “For real? You’re really doing this now?”

“It’s past time,” God muttered. “I thought I’d see how it played out, but I’m sick and tired of these assholes. They’re some of the worst people who’ve ever existed. Selfish, cruel. Racist. Xenophobic. Bigots all around, and I’m done with them. Earth needs to heal from all the shit they’ve inflicted. I rarely interfere, but this is a special case.”

“I thought he was on his way out,” Satan said.

“He is,” God said. “But that’s not good enough for me. You remember Nero?”

Satan scoffed. “Uh, yeah. Kind of hard to forget him. Last I checked, he’s in one of the worst pits along the edges of Hell, along with Bundy and Hitler.”

“Good,” God said. “Fuck those guys. And fuck these people too. They may not be as bad as those others, but they sure as hell give them a run for their money. I’m going to be sending them to you, but before I do, I want to give them a piece of my mind.”

“Who are they?” Jimmy asked.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” God said.

“He’s the Queen of Hell,” Satan snapped. “Anything I know, he knows.”

God laughed. “Look at you, man. Who would’ve thought you’d be wrapped around his finger so tightly?” He grinned. “I love that for you. And yeah, you’re right. Jimmy, that was a dick thing for me to say. I knew you’d be exactly what my brother needed. Good to know I’m always right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satan mumbled. He reached for the screen, pointing to each person in the photo. “Ivanka. Melania. Tiffany. Eric. Donald Jr. And the biggest asshole of them all, Donald Sr.”

“Why do those names sound familiar?” Jimmy asked.

“Politics,” Satan said. “For some damn reason that I still haven’t quite figured out.”

“Free will,” God said. “One of the things I struggled with the most. It’s creates so much beauty, but it’s also made people like this. I guess you have to take the good with the bad, but at what cost? At what cost?”

“Oh,” Jimmy said. “Now I remember.” He looked up at Satan. “That’s why you wanted the construction of that presidential library next to Ronald Reagan’s.”

“Exactly,” Satan agreed. “Thought I’d have more time, but since we’re only filling it with coloring books, we should be all right. Especially since there won’t be any crayons or markers for people to color with. They have to use their own blood and phlegm.”

“Ooh,” God said with a shiver. “I don’t know why I always forget how diabolical you can be. I approve.”

“He’s so good at this,” Jimmy said dreamily.

Satan pinched his side, causing him to wiggle. “Why do you need me for this? Can’t you just…I don’t know. Blow them up or something?”

“I could,” God said. “But I want them to see my face before I do. Fake ass Christians.” He paused, considering. “Which, to be honest, isn’t much better than a lot of other Christians, but I digress. No, I want them to see me, and I want them to see you, so they know the weight of their crimes before we send them packing south. It shouldn’t take long, only a couple of days. We can do the whole sightseeing thing before we end them. Make a day of it.”

Jimmy frowned. “What about me? Can I go too?”

“I need you to stay here,” Satan said. “You’ll lead while I’m gone.”

“Hell yes,” Jimmy hissed, throwing his hands up and almost punching Satan in the chin. “The Queen has risen, and all will cower before me!”

“Oh dear me,” God said.

“God,” Satan said, his voice rumbling. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get Jimmy home and fuck him cross-eyed.”

Jimmy twisted in his lap, rising up on his knees. He cupped Satan’s face, relishing in the heated glint in Satan’s eyes and the growing halo of fire around his head “Yeah? You like it when I act like your queen? Gonna watch as I give orders that everyone will follow no matter what it is because I’m in charge, even if it means they all jump to their deaths from the Cliffs of Desolation Sponsored By the Salvation Army, or make them eat frozen soygurt when they really wanted ice cream instead?”

“You have no idea,” Satan snarled. “You thought an alien would rearrange your guts? Daddy’s got something even better for you.”

“Gross,” God said. “But also, aww. That’s so sweet. And terrible. But yes, there is one more thing.”

“Then you better hurry up,” Jimmy panted, hands already in Satan’s trousers and gripping his dick. “Because I have a mighty need to get filled with some daddy seed.”

“Fascinating,” God said. “Somehow, rhyming made it worse. Poetry was a mistake. I see that now. I’ll get on that after we finish with the Trumps. Could you…bro. Bro. I can see that. I don’t want to, but I can.”

Satan didn’t seem to mind that Jimmy was on his knees, choking on his cock, so Jimmy didn’t mind either. He didn’t have an exhibitionist streak, not exactly, but God could end the call whenever he wanted to. And it wasn’t the first time that he’d caught Jimmy and Satan in the middle of fucking.

(It was the sixty-ninth time. Nice.)

“I don’t care,” Satan groaned as he sat back in his chair. “I can do whatever I want.”

“As you seem to be showing me,” God said. “Jimmy, how the hell can you—you know what? Never mind. It’s rude to speak with your mouth full.”

Jimmy replied by slobbering on devil dick and raising his arm, waving at the computer screen.

“No, I need Jimmy to do me a favor.”

“I’m good at doing favors,” Jimmy said, pulling off the devil dick to nuzzle Satan’s balls. “Tell him, Daddy.”

“He’s very good at doing favors,” Satan said, voice thick and hoarse.

“Not that kind of favor,” God said. “At least I hope not. No, scratch that. I will beg you to not do this kind of favor to him. He’s already scarred enough as it is.”

“Who?” Jimmy asked as Satan slapped his face with his cock.

God sighed. “Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus Christ,” Satan moaned as Jimmy swallowed him back down, not even gagging as the red dick hit the back of his throat.

“I hate everything,” God muttered. “What the fuck.” Then, “No, I mean the literal Jesus Christ. As in my son. I want to send him to Hell.”

Satan sat up abruptly, causing Jimmy to again pull off his cock with a wet pop. Jimmy looked up with a frown to see Satan’s black eyes bulging from his head. “You want to what?”

“Oh, gee,” God said. “I’m so glad I have your attention now. Thanks for that. Really. I appreciate it.”

Satan shoved his dick back in his pants, slapping Jimmy’s hands away when he tried to pull it back out. He lifted Jimmy up off the floor, settling him back on his lap, Jimmy’s back against his chest. Jimmy swiveled his hips, grinding down, but Satan gripped his pelvis, forcing him to stay still. “I think I must have misheard you,” Satan snapped. “Because it sounds like you just said you want Jesus to go to Hell.”

God rolled his eyes. “Yeah, man. That’s what I said.”

“But why?” Satan demanded. “Are you trying to cause a revolt in Hell? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if my demons see the Son of God walking around freely.”

“It won’t be permanent,” God said. “Think of it…hmm.” He brightened. As in the screen grew brighter as a heavenly light surrounded him. “Think of it like a vacation.”

Satan glared at the screen. “You want to send Jesus to Hell on vacation.”

“I do,” God said. “But a sort of working vacation. I need to get that boy out of the house. Ever since he decided to turn into a sixteen-year-old, he’s been locked up in his room doing only God knows what.” He snorted. “Oh hey, I get that expression now. That’s hysterical. Because I do know what he’s doing because I know everything.”

“What’s he doing?” Jimmy asked. He’d prefer to be back on Satan’s cock again, but this was almost as interesting.

God snapped his fingers, and a notebook appeared in a flash of smoke. He shook his head as he opened it. “Man, this kid. I swear to me. So, Jesus is…going through a phase. And not a normal phase like every other sixteen-year-old where they want to fuck everything in sight. People. Pumpkins. The couch. That reminds me. There was this one kid on Earth who used to fuck donuts then eat them. You’ll never guess who he grew up to be.”

“Elon Musk,” Satan said.

(Editor’s note: Elon Musk is extremely litigious, so for the sake of this story, this is a different Elon Musk who created a company called Tesler after the little-known Serbian-American inventor Doug Tesler, who is credited with the invention of the 80’s sensation known as jazzercise. The company Tesler is responsible for the production of jazzercise VHS tapes. Yes, VHS tapes in 2020. Shut up. As far as I know, the real Elon Musk is not a donut fucker, though it certainly seems possible.)

God blinked. “Oh. Huh. You got that right on the first try. Weird.”

“Yeah, well, I tend to know about those earmarked for Hell. He’s a sociopath.”

Jimmy tilted his head back to look up at Satan. “But I thought I was a sociopath. You make it sound bad.”

Satan kissed his forehead. “You are, but you’re the fun kind of sociopath. He’s…not that.”

“Oh,” Jimmy said, relieved. “I feel better. Thanks, Daddy.”

Satan wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s chest before looking back at God. “What does this have to do with Jesus?”

“So much,” God said. He held up the notebook. “This is one of his diaries. Oh, excuse me. I mean his journal. Me forbid you ever call it a diary to his face because he loses his shit. Talk about toxic masculinity. Anyway. Though I normally try and let him have his own space, I think it’s important for you to hear what he’s writing.”

Jimmy frowned. “That’s personal. The only reason I let Satan read my diary is because he’s in it a lot.” Jimmy’s diary was a Lisa Frank original: a notebook covered with fuzzy pink hair and little trinket hearts and unicorns hanging off a silver chain. Satan had given it to him to celebrate the fiftieth time they’d had sex. It had taken only three days of Jimmy being in Hell to reach that number, and Jimmy was pleased with the gift.

“Yeah?” God asked. “What do you write about him? You know what? I take that back. I don’t want to know.”

“It’s very graphic,” Jimmy agreed. “I even made Daddy blush with some of the stuff I’ve written.”

“You did not,” Satan said. “I’m always this color.”

“Really? What about the story I wrote where I was the only potato to survive the Irish Potato Famine, and you split me with your fingers and poured a dollop of butter and sour cream on my—”

Satan slapped a hand over Jimmy’s mouth. Not to be outdone, Jimmy licked his palm, causing Satan to shudder. “What’s in this diary that’s so concerning?”

God sighed. “Just listen.” He cleared his throat and began to read. “Saw Judas today. He was at the mall near the Walden Books. I tried to leave before he saw me, but I wasn’t fast enough. He came over and acted like nothing was wrong. He invited me to a barbecue. I asked him if I needed to bring anything, like thirty pieces of silver.”

“Oof,” Satan said with a wince. “That’s…bitchy. Fair, but bitchy.”

Jimmy was confused. “Why did he want to bring silver?”

“Judas betrayed him to the Romans,” Satan said. “Got thirty pieces of silver in exchange. Still don’t know why he’s in Heaven.”

God waved his hand. “He offed himself, and I wanted to dispel the notion that people who take their own lives automatically go to Hell. That’s ridiculous. While I wish people would live the life I gave them, those who die by suicide shouldn’t be punished for looking for a way out. It’s not fair to them. I’d hoped that leading by example we’d be better off for it.”

“But,” Jimmy said.

God shrugged. “But humans are mostly stupid and think whatever the hell they want. I love those messy fuckers, but man, can they get on my last nerve. I should’ve let them cook a little longer before putting them on Earth. That’s my bad, but the first couple were so awesome that I let myself be blinded to the rest.”

“Who was the first?” Jimmy asked.
           

God chuckled. “You know how some idiots try and use that saying against queer people, the one that goes it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve?”

Jimmy nodded. “They shout that through bullhorns on street corners.”

“Fun fact!” God said. “They were Adam and the other name at first, but then he came to me and said he didn’t want to use female pronouns anymore and requested I call him Steve and use he/him pronouns instead. So it came to be.” He smiled quietly. “Trans, non-binary and genderfluid people are some of the best in creation. I love them more than almost anyone else. It’s why they always go to heaven. And then the whole snake in the garden thing happened and—”

“I regret nothing,” Satan said.

God snorted. “No shit, man. You’re a dick, but I got over it a long time ago. We’re cool. Adam and Steve are up here and doing well, last time I checked in on them. They’re in a poly relationship with a former lifeguard named Eduardo. Heard they were getting ready to propose to him, but I don’t think they’ve done it yet.”

“Mozel tov,” Jimmy said. “But what does this have to do with Jesus?”

“Right,” God said. He looked back down at the diary and began to read again. “Judas looked offended, and then I reminded him that I’d been crucified, so he could take his offense and shove it up his ass. He said I needed to let old grudges go. I told him I would if he’d let me nail him to a cross.”

“Wow,” Jimmy said. “The Bible would be so much better if he’d written it. I know I’d have considered possibly reading it at some point.”

Satan chuckled and traced a finger along Jimmy’s face. “I love you.”

“I know, Daddy,” Jimmy said, snuggling against his chest. “I love you, too.”

“Gross,” God said. “And also wonderful.” He shook his head. “It goes on and on like this, notebooks filled with every slight ever done to him. He’s a vindictive little bastard, but I love him to bits.” He set the notebook down and leaned back in his chair. “I…haven’t exactly been the best father.”
           

“That might be an understatement,” Satan said dryly. “You sent your only son to Earth knowing he’d have to die for the sins of men. That’d fuck anyone up.”

God groaned, covering his face in his hands. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to tell me that. Trust me, I’ve regretted it ever since. Tried to convince him to go to therapy with me. When Saint Peter isn’t running the front gates, he’s a pretty medamn good psychologist. Jesus told me to fuck off, and then slammed the door in my face. The only time he comes out of his room now is when he’s hungry. And even then he takes it back to his room without a word. And he won’t stop being sixteen, for whatever reason.”

“Let me get this right,” Satan said. “You have a surly, emo teenager, and you want to send him to Hell.”

God dropped his hands. “I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important. Mary and Joseph decided to be reincarnated as goldfish a couple of months ago, so they won’t be back for two to three years.”

“They did that again?” Satan asked. “I thought they were done with that when Joseph was reincarnated as Bette Davis and Mary was Joan Crawford.”

“They still had some things to work out,” God said. “But this time, they also wanted to live in a bowl filled with their own shit water. But hey, I don’t kink shame. Whatever floats your boat, right?” He tapped his chin. “Look, this isn’t permanent. Just for a few days while you and I handle the Trumps. I figure if anyone can get through to him, it’d be Jimmy. I mean, if he can make you of all beings turn into a marshmallow, then I think he could help Jesus.”

“I’m not a marshmallow,” Satan snarled. “I am Beelzebub, the Grand Tempter, Lucifer, the fallen angel. I am Hellfire and Darkness and—”

“Daddy,” Jimmy said with a pout. “I’m cold.”

“Sorry, sorry, baby,” Satan said hastily, hugging Jimmy close. “I’ll warm you up. Daddy’s here. Is that better? Do you need me to get you a blanket? Or some hot cocoa?”

“No,” Jimmy said happily. “I’m much better now. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Satan said, smacking another kiss on the top of Jimmy’s head. “You tell me if you get cold again and I’ll take care of it.”

Jimmy looked at God. “Did that help?”

“Wait a damn minute,” Satan said. “Did you just—”

“Thanks, Jimmy,” God said. “That worked just fine.” He grinned. “Told you, bro. A fucking marshmallow. And get that look off your face. You know it’s a good thing.”

“I’m not a marshmallow,” Satan muttered. He glared at God. “If I agree to this, what do I get in return?”

“Canada.”

“All of it? Or just the Yukon? Because I swear to you, if you’re trying to pull a fast one on me, I’ll—”

“All of it. You have my Word.”

“Done,” Satan said immediately. “But if this blows up in my face, I’m going to make your life a living hell. And you know I can do it. Anything happens to Jimmy, I’ll tear Heaven apart with my bare hands. No one will be safe from my wrath.”

This, of course, made Jimmy want to fuck Satan’s brains out. Satan usually topped, but every now and then Jimmy plowed that red velvet cake with gusto, Satan groaning, knees up against his chest, begging for more. The Word of God held nothing in comparison to a bossy bottom who also topped once in a while. They were, perhaps, the most powerful beings in all of creation, with only God and Satan above them.

“Awesome,” God said, sounding relieved. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, man.”

Satan shook his head. “Not yet.” He looked down at Jimmy. “You okay with this? I’m not going to agree to anything unless you’re on board.”

“Because I’m the Queen of Hell?” Jimmy asked, batting his eyelashes.

Satan’s lips quirked. “Yes. Because you’re the Queen of Hell.”

“Then, yes, I’m good,” Jimmy said. “It’ll be fun! I can show Jesus some of the torture chambers. Or I can take him mini-golfing.” His eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Isn’t Michael Bay giving a presentation in a couple days on how to blow things up in slow motion that no one signed up for? We could say we’re going, get his hopes up, and then heckle him by throwing chainsaws at his head while he’s trying to talk.”
           

God frowned. “Michael Bay? When did he die?”

“Six months ago,” Satan said. “He offered his soul up for an Academy Award, but I tricked him and replaced him with a feisty demon named Julie. She’s going to make a film in black and white called The Moon Landing Was Faked for the Socialist Agenda that in no way objectifies women, has no explosions, and is one of the worst things ever written. It’s going to ruin Michael Bay and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”

“Ha, ha,” Jimmy said.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Satan said.

Then they both began to cackle evilly.

“Fuck me,” God breathed. “That sounds terrible. But it’s what he deserves. At least we still have Steven Spielberg.”

“That’s what you think,” Jimmy whispered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Satan said quickly. “Don’t worry about it. Fine. Jesus can come to Hell, but it’ll only last as long as it takes for us to handle the Trumps. Believe me when I say I’m chomping at the bit to get my hands on them. When we finish, Jesus goes back with you so I can focus on Donald.” He grinned, his teeth razor sharp. “Oh, do I have plans for him.”

“Does it involve the Vat of Burning Acid of Doom?” Jimmy asked. “Or are you going to do that one thing where you make him stand naked in front of the Mirror of Heck Yeah! that reflects everyone who despises him and will list all his shortcomings in increasingly vitriolic ways?”

“Yes,” Satan said.

“Great,” God said cheerfully. “Oh man, I feel so much better now. Jimmy, I know you’ll be good for Jesus. And go easy on him, yeah? He’s been through a lot, and I only want to see him happy. Just remember he has a few triggers, so stay away from nails and hammers and crosses made of wood. Don’t dress up in Roman garb, and whatever you do, do not ask him about the Last Supper. They served popcorn shrimp, and it sends him into a frenzy anytime it’s mentioned. I found him plotting to blow up a few Long John Silver’s in New Jersey, and I can’t have word getting out that my son is a wannabe domestic terrorist. Wouldn’t be good for business. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Except for sex,” Jimmy said. “Because I’m in a monogamous relationship.”

God paled. “Yeah. Uh, that’d be great. Please don’t seduce my son.”

“No seducing,” Satan ordered.

Jimmy scoffed. “As if I could ever find someone better than you. You’re my maid in Manhattan.”

“I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to,” God said. “I guess we’re all set. Bro, let’s get started first thing in the morning. I’ll meet you at the Washington Monument at eight. And, please wear a fucking mask. There’s a pandemic going on, and unfortunately, we have to be in America where a stunningly large portion of the population is under the impression that it won’t affect them, and that face masks are a violation of their rights. For the love of all that’s holy, how can anyone be that stupid?” He shook his head. “I’m considering just wiping them all out and turning the United States into a nature preserve. I’m sure the rest of the world would breathe a sigh of relief knowing they’d never have to worry about America again. Bunch of whiny bitches.” He gave a jaunty salute. “Later, gators.” He disappeared from the screen, leaving only a picture of Satan in a suit with Jimmy on his back underneath the words HELL, INC.

“You really good with this?” Satan asked.

Jimmy nodded. “I can handle it.” He looked away.

“I know you can. You can do anything, baby. But something is bothering you.”

Jimmy shrugged awkwardly. “This is the first time we’ll be apart for this long since I got here. What if you find another twink on Earth you like better than me?”

Satan put a finger under his chin, tilting his head back and holding it in place so he couldn’t look away. “Now you listen to Daddy. There is no one on Earth or in Hell or Heaven that could ever be better than you. I was alone for longer than I care to think about, and I can’t imagine giving you up for anyone else. You’re the only one for me, now and forever.”

Jimmy sniffled. “You promise?”

Satan smiled softly. “I promise. Besides, Donna would straight up murder me if I tried.”

“She would,” Jimmy agreed. “She loves me more than you.”

“I know,” Satan said, letting go of his chin and brushing the hair off his forehead. “Now, what say we finish what we started before God interrupted? I haven’t fucked you on my desk since yesterday, and that won’t do.”

Jimmy was up and off his lap before Satan finished speaking, pants around his ankles, bent over the desk and spreading his ass. “Like this?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

Satan coughed roughly. “Yeah, yes. Exactly like that. Holy shit, I’m gonna fucking destroy you.”

“Call me Ripley,” Jimmy moaned as Satan brushed a finger over his hole. “And you’re a Xenomorph. Oh no, here comes the big, bad alien and he’s going to make it so his spawn eats its way out of my chest! And I have no way to stop him because my machine gun is out of bullets. Of all the luck!”

“You’re so weird,” Satan rumbled. “I adore you, Ripley. Prepare for contact of the sexy kind.”

“Less talking, more fucking!”

And so they did. What followed won’t be described here, but suffice to say, Ripley proved to be a monster fucker, and all was right in Hell.

*****

Jimmy stood on a platform, the blinding light fading from one of the tubes that sent Satan to Earth. Their parting had been sweet, with Satan promising he’d bring Jimmy back a present if he didn’t destroy Hell in Satan’s absence. Derek, the supervising demon, stood nervously next to them, shifting from hoof to hoof while Satan mauled Jimmy’s face. After Satan hurtled toward Earth, Jimmy turned to Derek.

“How’s it going?” he asked, already missing his daddy. “Keeping on target with the quarterly soul projections?”

“Yes, my Queen,” Derek said. He glanced down at the tablet in his hand. “Given the way COVID is ravaging Earth and the amount of people refusing to wear masks, we’re actually well above where we thought we’d be at this time, by almost three hundred percent. We’ve also raised future projections given the announcement of a vaccine.”

Jimmy frowned. “Isn’t that supposed to help them? Shouldn’t we be getting fewer souls because of it?”

“You would think,” Derek said. “But the increase will come from anti-vaxxers. Satan made a deal with God that we’d get them because they have no hope for rehabilitation, and in the process, are endangering their families and their community.”

Jimmy was impressed. “Wow. Man, who would’ve thought that all it’d take was a plague for people to show their whole asses. That’s awesome. I’m proud of you guys.”

Derek flushed. “Thank you, Queen Jimmy. That means a lot coming from you.” He looked around at the demons scurrying around the dozens of summoning tubes that littered the platform. “We’ll be extremely busy, but Satan has already authorized overtime, and everyone here knows how important the work is. I haven’t heard any complaints yet.”

Jimmy nodded. “Well, please make sure they all know how much their Queen appreciates it. Satan does too. He was saying the other day that promoting you to supervisor was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.”

Derek squeaked, a little puff of smoke escaping his mouth. “He said that?” he whispered in awe.

“He did,” Jimmy said, patting his shoulder. “And it’s the truth. You’re infinitely better than the last guy. And you remember what happened to him.”

The demon’s ears drooped against the side of his head. “Satan killed him by kicking him into lava.”

“Exactly!” Jimmy said brightly. “And you’re still alive, so you know you’re doing a good job. Isn’t positive reinforcement fun?”

“So fun,” Derek said weakly. He cleared his throat. “There’s nothing you need to worry about with us in Satan’s absence. I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly until he gets back.”

 “Thanks,” Jimmy said. “I have a feeling I won’t have time for much, what with our guest.” He squinted at the summoning tube. “Speaking of, shouldn’t he be here by now?”

“It takes a bit longer for people to get down here all the way from Heaven than from Earth. A bunch of red tape and bureaucratic nonsense. We have to make sure the right paperwork is filed, and that everything has been approved. You know how it is.” He glanced at his watch. “But he should be here in just…ah, yes. Here we go.”

The summoning tube filled with the brightest light Jimmy had ever seen in Hell. The platform rumbled under their feet, and Jimmy took a stumbling step back as the panel next to the tube began to flash the words INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING DIRECT LINE FROM HEAVEN INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING.

Something hit the base of the tube with a crash, and Jimmy covered his eyes at the explosion of light. The summoning demons screamed in horror and fled, their arms waving above their heads.

The light faded, and Jimmy turned back toward the tube.

The glass door slid open, white clouds spilling out and covering the ground.

And there, standing in the tube with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, was Jesus Christ.

His skin was brown, his long dark hair hanging around his face. On his feet, he wore black Doc Marten boots with silver buckles, the tops of which were hidden under black, flared raver pants with similar buckles rising up the side. His thin t-shirt bore the face of Jim Jones under the words GOD MADE ME DO IT. He shuffled his feet, a backpack slung over his shoulder as his dark eyes darted around nervously.

Jimmy rushed forward, causing Jesus to flinch and jump back. “Hi!” he said. “You must be Jesus! It’s so great to finally meet you. I talk to your dad all the time, and I heard about the whole feet washing thing you did. Aren’t kinks fun? Also, you are not white, which is just…whoa. They really screwed that one up, huh?”

Jesus sighed and looked down at his feet, mumbling something under his breath.

Jimmy squinted at him. “What was that?”

Jesus rolled his eyes, lips pulling back over his teeth in a sneer. “I said that I’m a Middle Eastern Jew. It wasn’t until the 19th century that they started whitewashing me.”

Jimmy blinked. “Why would they do that?”

Jesus scoffed. “Because of racial antisemitism. They wanted a white Nordic Jesus because they thought that made me better.”

Jimmy made a face. “Ew. That’s fucking stupid. People suck.”

“You’re people,” Jesus snapped at him.

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I am, but I promise I’m not like those assholes, though you shouldn’t take my word for it because I need to prove that to you. Honestly, I’m just happy you’re here.”

Jesus looked surprised, but he covered it up quickly, suspicion blooming on his face as he narrowed his eyes. “Why? This is only for a couple of days. I’m not staying here permanently. Hell is awful.”

“Hey,” Jimmy said with a frown. “That’s not cool. This is my home. I happen to think it’s pretty nice. You’ve never been here before, so I guess it might seem a little weird at first. But I swear Hell isn’t anything like you’re expecting. It’s actually really awesome.”

“I doubt that,” Jesus muttered. “It smells like rotten eggs and sadness.”
           

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “You get used to it. Nothing a few air fresheners won’t cover up, though. One of the first things I did when I got here. Glade sponsored Hell last year, and our entire house smells like cinnamon.” He heard movement behind him and turned to see a few demons struggling with a brightly lit Christmas tree as they tried to bring it onto the platform. Jimmy panicked as he turned back toward Jesus. “Oh, look!” he said to distract him.  “There’s one of our gigantic demon worms coming up through the lava. Isn’t nature fucked up?”

Jesus turned to look as a large black fin broke through the molten magma, and Jimmy spun quickly, waving off the demons with the Christmas tree. “He’s Jewish,” Jimmy hissed at them. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that? Get rid of it!”

Derek bellowed and rushed forward. He leapt at the last moment, twisting his body and delivering a mighty kick against the tree. It flew end over end, baubles and garland trailing after as it landed in the lava, bursting into flames and burning black as it sank below the surface.

“Whoa,” Jimmy breathed. “That was gnarly.”

“I dated Bruce Lee for six weeks in the 1968,” Derek said proudly. “Taught me a thing or two about martial arts and finger blasting. Didn’t get his soul, but I did learn Jeet Kune Do from him.”

“Feels like a story there,” Jimmy said. “Too bad we don’t have time to hear it.” He turned back to Jesus, who was watching the demon worm breech the surface before falling back with a fiery splash. “Epic, right? And don’t you worry about anything having to do with Christmas. Even though it has your name right in it, we won’t celebrate it because that’s ridiculous.”

Jesus scoffed. “It’s supposed to be for my birthday.”

Jimmy blinked. “Wait, what? It’s your birthday? Ah, man, I wish I’d known because I’d have hired a stripper, or a clown, or a stripper clown. We have lots of clowns down here. Some of their faces aren’t even melting.”

“I was born at the end March,” Jesus said.

“Aries! Rock on. I’m a Taurus, which is cool because I drove a Taurus once when I was on the run from the police.” Jimmy shook his head. “That was a weird Easter.” His eyes widened. “Not that we celebrate that either! Because celebrating your death and resurrection with rabbits and chocolate eggs is insulting.” This was a lie; Easter was one of the biggest national holidays in Hell, but Jesus didn’t need to know that. He already had enough to deal with. It probably wouldn’t help his mood to know that the most popular song sung in Hell on Easter was That Old Rugged Cross. They didn’t even have to change the lyrics, given that it was already fucked up enough as it was. “Holidays, huh? Yuck. I hate them!” He raised his voice. “Which is why I hope that any demons within hearing distance will run back to our house and take down all the decorations before we get there!”

“You heard the Queen!” Derek screamed. “Remove all the Christmas decorations before Christ sees them and gets angry!”

Demons scattered, jumping from the platform and hurtling down the road.

“There,” Jimmy said. “Now, are you hungry?”
           

Jesus wasn’t looking at him. He seemed to be staring at Derek, but once he felt Jimmy’s eyes on him, he ducked his head and glared at the ground.

“What?” Jimmy asked.

“I hate it here,” Jesus mumbled.

*****

They took their time on the way back to the house, Jimmy acting as a tour guide, pointing out everything he laid his eyes on hoping it would make Jesus smile. Unfortunately, not even the Shrieking Shack was enough to impress Jesus (in fact, he flinched a little as the wooden boards screamed in agony), nor the addition being constructed, demons shouting as they used ropes and pulleys to lift the new entrance sign reading THE TERF HOUSE. “It’s for some author on Earth,” Jimmy said as the sign settled on its frame with a dangerous creak. “Satan is usually very protective of authors and other artists. Like, he has this whole section in the Lower Pits for people who pirate or steal works because that shit is rude. Isn’t that right, TJ?”

Jimmy turned and looked up at TJ Klune, who was sitting at his desk, fingers dancing along the keyboard. TJ had just woken up, and his hot water heater had gone out the day before, so he was more than a little irritated given the cold shower he’d had to take. It certainly didn’t help that he was already in a foul mood, seeing as how people thought it was acceptable to steal his works and post about their thievery on Twitter like it was something to be proud of. Those assholes.

“That’s right, Jimmy,” TJ said. “People who steal from creators automatically go to Hell. Them’s the rules.”

“I knew it! Thanks, TJ. Bye!”

“Bye, Jimmy,” TJ said. “And remember what I always say: hug a puppy and dropkick people who think they don’t have to pay for years of hard work!”

“Who are you talking to?” Jesus asked, sounding unnerved. 

Jimmy waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Where was I? Ah, yes, the TERF! Sure, Satan loves authors, but this author is a little different. She wrote books about wizards or something, made billions of dollars, and then decided to be transphobic instead of keeping her dumb mouth shut. Satan was happy with that acquisition. He had to negotiate with God for a little while, but your dad didn’t put up much of a fight.”

“What’ll happen to her?” Jesus asked.

Jimmy shrugged. “Satan’s still working up a plan, but it’ll involve forcing her to watch at least seventeen hours of video per day of trans and enby people living their best lives filled with happiness and sunshine and unending success. He thinks she’ll hate it, so it’ll be the perfect torture.”

Jesus looked up at the Shrieking Shack. “That’s his idea of torture?”
           

“He’s very creative,” Jimmy said proudly.

“Isn’t he supposed to be evil?”

“He is,” Jimmy said. “Like, the evilest. His name strikes fear in the heart of almost everyone he meets.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but honestly? It’s mostly just an act. My Daddy is a softie when he wants to be. He lets me do this one thing to his—”

“Your what?”

 “My Daddy,” Jimmy repeated. “Oh, you probably don’t know about that, huh? No worries! It’s simple, really. Satan is a Daddy-bear, and I’m his boy slash Queen.”

“That’s what you call simple,” Jesus said flatly.

Jimmy squinted at him. “Uh, yes? Do you need me to explain in increasing detail that’ll most likely either fill you with joy and love or cause you to try and run as far away as you can? Because I can do that. So, sometimes, a twink needs a daddy-bear to fill him up with daddy-bear cock—”

Jesus blushed furiously as he scowled.

“Aw,” Jimmy said, pinching his cheek. “You’re adorable.”

Jesus slapped his hand away. “I am not. The Son of God is not adorable.”

Jimmy shrugged. “I think you are. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I do that, sometimes. I’m trying to get better at it, but I mess up every now and then. I know not everyone likes to talk about sex stuff.” He chuckled. “Probably doesn’t help that your mom was a virgin. I doubt you got the talk about the birds and the bees. I mean, no offense, but it must be hard to take anything she says about safe sex seriously when she got magically pregnant by your dad. I’d probably be a bit of a prude too if that happened to me.”

Jesus sputtered angrily. “I’m not a prude. My friends on Earth were prostitutes!”

“Nothing wrong with being a prude. We all have to start somewhere. And it’s sex workers, if you don’t mind.”

Jesus blinked. “What.”

“Sex workers,” Jimmy said again. “We don’t call them prostitutes because it’s degrading to the people in the profession, the majority of whom are women. The connotations behind the word prostitute are mired in misogyny, and—”

“Jesus Christ,” Jesus Christ moaned. “What is this place?”
           

“Um,” Jimmy said. “It’s Hell? I thought you knew that.”

Jesus shook his head. “I thought this was supposed to be the worst place in existence.”

“Well, for the people who get sent here because of their wrongdoings on Earth, it is.” Jimmy waved at the demons hanging the sign. “But for everyone else? It’s home. Come on.”

Jesus fell into step beside Jimmy, hoisting the strap from his backpack on his shoulder. “I don’t understand.”

“Cool,” Jimmy said. “I say that a lot too. It’s like we’re best friends already.”

The skin under Jesus’s right eye twitched. “Satan is evil.”

“It’s part of the gig.”

“And he gets sent all the worst people from Earth, and he tortures them for eternity.”

“Right,” Jimmy said. “I knew you’d get the hang of it. Go Jesus!”

“Then why isn’t he considered to be one of the greatest beings?” Jesus asked.

Jimmy paused next to a bench overlooking the Black Lagoon, where a group of white colonists were trapped on a boat surrounded by monsters picking them off one by one. Their screams drifted over the surface of the lake. “What do you mean?”

Jesus rolled his eyes. “If he does nothing but torture the worst of humankind and make them suffer for what they did to others, doesn’t that make him the good guy out of all of this?”

“Huh,” Jimmy said, rubbing his chin. “I never thought of it that way. Weird. Yeah, I guess. I know I think he’s the best, but then he’s my daddy, so.”

“My dad is full of shit,” Jesus said. “He talks about good and evil, a balance of the light and dark.”

“Like Star Wars,” Jimmy said sagely. “Cool.”

“What? No, not like Star Wars.”

Jimmy laughed. “Oh, come on. God basically has the Force. Isn’t that where George Lucas got the idea? At least, that’s what I got from the prequels when they showed for sixteen months straight at the theater.”

“It’s not the Force,” Jesus growled. “And even if it was, it’s stupid. Dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Oh,” Jimmy said. He looked out onto the Black Lagoon.  One of the white men on the boat was screaming that he only wanted to teach the heathens how to act like him. He stopped screaming when a creature snapped him off the boat and pulled him under the dark water, leaving only bloody bubbles popping on the surface. “I thought he did, seeing as how he’s…you know. God.”
           

Jesus sniffed. “He sent me to Earth to die.”

“Oof,” Jimmy said. “Still not over that, huh?”

Jesus folded his arms, his shoulders near his ears. “Would you be?”

“Don’t know,” Jimmy admitted. “My dad repairs vacuums. He also has a meth lab, so our situations aren’t exactly the same.” He brightened. “Though, he did send me to spy on his competition, so we’ve got that in common. Hopefully, you didn’t accidentally burn down a rival meth lab like I did. The explosion made me lose my hearing for three hours.”

“I wasn’t spying! I was living.”

“Really?” Jimmy asked. “So he didn’t come to you in a vision or a burning bush or whatever and ask for all the gossip about the humans?”

“No!”

“Dude, that sucks. But I get it. You have issues with your dad because he impregnated your mom without sexing her up, and then you had to grow up with that weight on your shoulders, knowing you were the Messiah or some junk. Yeah, no wonder you were friends with sex workers, because at least they’re more accepting. I’d have probably done the same if I were you. Anything to stick it to dear old dad, huh? Rock on. I see why so many people like you. You’re, like, an anarchist. So punk rock.”

“I don’t want them to like me,” Jesus snarled, a fleck of spit on his bottom lip. “I just want to be left alone so I can write about—” His mouth snapped closed as he looked away.

Knowing it wouldn’t do to let Jesus know God had read them his diary, Jimmy said, “You’ll figure it out, Jesus. I have faith in you.” He laughed. “I bet you’re sick of hearing that, though. Tell you what. I won’t talk about what happened to you on Earth if you’ll just give Hell a chance. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’m Jesus,” he said. “And I’m in Hell. The worst has pretty much already happened.”

“So there’s nowhere to go but up!” Jimmy punched him playfully in the arm. “I like the way you think, Christ. There’s the optimism I was looking for. I’ll make you an honorary citizen of Hell yet, just you wait and see. Ooh, look! That racist colonist just got his arm bitten off. Holy shit, there’s so much blood.”

*****

“And this is your room,” Jimmy said an hour later. He pushed open the door and motioned for Jesus to walk through. Jesus did, and frowned when he saw the room was empty, the walls white and blank.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Jesus asked, brow furrowed.

“I didn’t know how you’d want the setup to be,” Jimmy said, following Jesus into the room. “Satan wanted to fill it with kittens and posters of the Backstreet Boys, but I think he was being sarcastic. Or he’s old. Same thing.” He pressed his thumb against a panel on the wall. It scanned his thumbprint before the words WELCOME, JIMMY! appeared on the screen. “I had these installed right after I first moved in. Needed to get the house into the twenty-first century. Satan had this whole Gothic Manor thing going on, and it needed a little Jimmy touch to make it better. There are a whole bunch of dropdown menus that will allow you to decorate the room exactly as you want it. Watch.” The screen beeped as Jimmy’s fingers flew over it, clicking boxes. “There. How’s this?”

The walls, floor and ceiling flashed white before the room filled with beanbags of varying shapes and colors. In the far corner, a trampoline sat next to a heap of Legos the size of a Republican man from Vermont, meaning the bright blocks were piled at about five foot six and shouting about how wiping away college debt for everyone wasn’t fair to him, seeing as how he’d had to pay off his loans with his parents’ money.

“I’m not twelve,” Jesus said petulantly.

“Right,” Jimmy said. “How about this?” He typed against the panel furiously.

The beanbags and screaming Legos disappeared mid-wail—I don’t know what Socialism is, but I’ll keep shouting about it until—replaced by a four-poster bed with a white, translucent veil hanging from the posts. A fuzzy rug appeared at the floor at the edge of the bed. The walls were covered with framed drawings of cartoon characters in various salacious poses.

“Is that Elmer Fudd fucking Bugs Bunny?” Jesus asked forlornly.

“Yep!” Jimmy said. “There’s a really big Looney Tunes fandom in Hell. For some reason, the demons love them to bits.” He looked at the nearest drawing, with Pepe Le Pew riding Sylvester, head thrown back, stink lines rising from his head. “Maybe a little too much. They tried to have a wing built for furries, but they didn’t get very far when they remembered most furries go to Heaven. No offense, but your dad is kind of weird. I wonder if he’s secretly a furry.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Jesus muttered. “He’s a bunch of things I’d rather not talk about because I’m supposed to be the Lord.”

Jimmy glanced at him. “Isn’t your dad the Lord too? It’s a little confusing. Like, I can’t imagine if people called me the same thing as my dad. Vacuum Meth Phil isn’t as nice as Jimmy.”

“It’s a title,” Jesus said with a glower. “I didn’t ask for it.”

Jimmy shrugged. “So, don’t go by it then. If anyone tries to call you that, say, ‘Hey, guy, that ain’t cool. My name’s Jesus, and I’d prefer to be called that, ya dig?’ See? Easy peasy.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Jesus snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like being the Son of God.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “I really, really don’t. This one guy I dated for a week asked me to call him God while we were fucking, but then I dumped him because of that, and also because he had manacles on chains in his basement that he kept demanding I try on. Like, dude. I get it. You’re horny for chains that leave me defenseless in your soundproof basement. Get over it.”

“How are you a person?” Jesus asked.

“My parents had sex?” Jimmy said, slightly confused. “I know that might not make sense to you, given the whole immaculate conception thing, but that’s pretty much it. Wow, we sure are talking about your dad getting your mom pregnant a lot. I bet you get that all the time. You’re probably sick of it by now. I know I’d be if that’s all anyone asked about my parents. My bad, man. I heard your mom’s a goldfish now. Good for her.”

Jesus groaned, his face in his hands. “I have no one to blame but myself.”

Jimmy waved him off. “Eh. It’s not your fault. You can’t control the actions of your parents. They may try and control you, but you’re your own person. You should get to make decisions for yourself.” He eyed Jesus up and down. “This is a start, right? You being sixteen.”

Jesus dropped his hands, glaring down at the floor. “It is what it is.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Cool beans. You want to give the Room Decorator 5000 a go? I named it myself. I know it makes me sound like a scientist, but I promise you I’m not. I wasn’t allowed to do science anymore after I accidentally made meth in chemistry class.” He chuckled. “See? We’re both like our dads, even if we don’t want to be.”

“You can’t keep putting the word accidentally in front of things you meant to do,” Jesus said as he stepped up to the panel, squinting against the bright light. He dropped his backpack to the floor against the wall.

Jimmy laughed. “That’s what the therapist I went to on Earth said. For some reason, she quit the profession after our fourth session. Guess she wanted to explore her options. Last I heard, she lives in a shack in the mountains and sells jewelry she makes herself through an unnecessarily complicated website. She’s apparently found no success at all in it, but whatever makes her happy.”        

“Now that I believe,” Jesus muttered. Jimmy was pleased to see how intuitive the Room Decorator 5000 seemed to be, given that Jesus didn’t seem to have a problem with any of the menus. The screen beeped, and a moment later, the room filled with a bed with a thorny black frame and blankets the color of blood on top of it. The Looney Tunes porn disappeared, replaced by an egregious amount of posters from the movie The Crow, with Brandon Lee’s eponymous character featured right at the front. In a few, he seemed to be making out with Marilyn Manson (and in one, Marilyn Monroe). The floor turned into black carpet, and the windows were covered with blackout curtains. A heavy, oak desk appeared against the far wall, with a feather quill pen on top of it next to a bottle of ink.

“Wow,” Jimmy said, impressed. “This looks a lot like our room before I moved in and changed everything. You and Satan are a lot alike. Also, I just learned today that one of the demons fucked the Crow’s dad and learned karate. Isn’t that awesome?”

Jesus gaped at him. “That’s blasphemous!”

Jimmy paused. “What is? The demon and Bruce Lee thing or you being like Satan?”

“I’m Jesus Christ. I’m not anything like Satan!”

“Oh,” Jimmy said. “That wasn’t a bad thing. It’s actually a compliment. I meant that you have a certain style. And even though there’s nothing wrong with being Satan, just because you have things in common doesn’t mean you’re still not you. Oh, hey! I have an idea.”

“Does it involve accidentally doing something you obviously meant to do?”

“Close your eyes,” Jimmy ordered.

Jesus didn’t even blink.

Jimmy pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. “I promise I won’t do anything bad.”

Jesus sighed. “See, when you say that, it makes my skin itch.”

Jimmy laughed. “My therapist said that too!” The smile slid from his face. “Question. That wasn’t… you, right? Like, you didn’t get reincarnated as a woman named Rachel with big hair and the desire to try and get me to take anti-psychotics? Because if you did, anything I told you is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality. We’re a big believer in HIPAA laws here in Hell.”

“I wasn’t reincarnated!”

Jimmy exhaled in relief. “Oh man, I feel better now. I did not want you to know about the…thing. I did. That I told her about. That could have led to an FBI investigation if anyone found out about it. That was obviously illegal but I did it anyway. By accident.” His eyes shifted side to side. “Anyway! Close your eyes. I promise this will be fun and won’t make you think about nails in your hands and feet.”

“Oh my dad,” Jesus moaned. He looked like he was going to make a break for it, so Jimmy closed the door with his foot and cocked an eyebrow at Jesus. “Fine,” he growled and closed his eyes.

Jimmy waved his hands in front of Jesus’s face. No reaction. Good. He stepped quietly toward the bed, the thick carpet muffling his footsteps. He picked up a pillow off the bed and gripped the cover tightly.

And then he hit Jesus Christ in the face with it.

“Pillow fight!” he screeched as Jesus stumbled back against the wall. “Look how much fun we’re having!” He hit Jesus again with the pillow.

“What the fuck are you doing!” Jesus cried, trying to shield himself from Jimmy’s attack, but it was no use. Jimmy was an expert in the art of pillow fighting.

“Trying to get you to lighten up!” Jimmy said, panting as he continued to hit Jesus with the pillow. “The power of the Queen of Hell compels you! The power of the Queen of Hell compels you!” Jimmy stopped for a moment. “See what I did there? Because normally, it’s the power of you that compels you to—”

But Jimmy never got to finish this most important thought. Because Jesus had leapt around him, scooping up his own pillow. Before Jimmy could steel himself, Jesus slammed his pillow into Jimmy’s head, knocking him off his feet. He crashed into the wall and slumped to the floor.

“Oh shit,” he heard Jesus gasp. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I didn’t mean to do that!”

Jimmy looked up at him, dazed. “You didn’t? Holy crap. I’d hate to see what would happen if you meant it. That was fucking gnarly. You are a lot stronger than you look.” He pushed himself off the ground, leaning against the wall. “Holy crap.” He laughed to himself. “Is that what you say when you take a shit—”

He got a pillow to the face again.

Not to be outdone, he tackled Jesus to the ground, legs going akimbo, arms flailing. Jesus landed on his back, Jimmy on top of him, hands on either side of Jesus’s head. Something crossed Jesus’s face—something complicated, fleeting—and he lifted his head and tried to kiss Jimmy.

“Whoa,” Jimmy said, rearing back when Jesus’s lips scraped against his own. “Hey, no. Wait.”

Jesus glared up at him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Not wrong,” Jimmy corrected gently. He shifted off Jesus, laying on his back next to him. “Look, you’re an awesome dude. Even if you weren’t Jesus Christ, I’d still think you’re cool.”

“But,” Jesus said bitterly.

“But you’re also sixteen years old, and I’m twenty-three. That’s decidedly not cool. You’re a child, man. I don’t fuck with that.”

“I’m not really sixteen.”

“Right,” Jimmy said slowly. “Maybe in theory, but now? Yeah, you are. But even if you weren’t, I still wouldn’t do that. I’m with Satan. I don’t play around on him. We’re monogamous.”

Jesus laughed scornfully. “You think Satan is monogamous.”

“Uh, yes? Because I know he is. I trust him completely. He wouldn’t do that to me, and I would never do that to him. He’s…” Jimmy thought for a moment. “He’s this…stability, something I’ve never really had before.” He shrugged. “And besides, he knows that if he even thought about it, I’d tear out his intestines. We love each other that much. It’s probably unhealthy, but it works for us.”

Jesus huffed out a breath. “Fine. Whatever.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw a line of tension as he looked at everything but Jimmy.

“No, hey,” Jimmy said, reaching over and touching the back of Jesus’s hand. “It’s all right. I’m not mad at you. We’re chill. Just surprised me is all.” He pulled his hand back when Jesus stiffened. He lowered his gaze down Jesus’s body and saw something else that looked like it had the same problem. If someone had told him that very morning he’d give Jesus a boner, he wouldn’t have believed it. “Maybe that’s what’s going on.”

“What?” Jesus asked, eyes flashing dangerously.

“When was the last time you got laid?”

Jesus flushed angrily. “You can’t just ask someone that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s private.”

“We’re friends, though,” Jimmy said. “And friends don’t keep secrets from each other.” This was another lie. Jimmy had billions of secrets, but Jesus didn’t need to know that.

“We’re not friends,” Jesus retorted.

“Getting there,” Jimmy said. He sat up next to Jesus, leaning back on his hands. “Come on, tell me. When was the last time you got laid? Maybe that’s why you’re all…you know. Angsty. You’re just all stopped up.”

Jesus rolled over onto his side away from Jimmy. He said something Jimmy didn’t catch. “What was that?”

Jesus’s shoulders were up near his ears, his thighs curled against his stomach. “I said I’ve never had sex. There. You happy?”

“Whoa,” Jimmy breathed. “How in the fuck is that possible? Dude, you’ve existed for thousands of years!”

Jesus sneered at Jimmy over his shoulder. “Did you forget who my father is?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“He’s literally God.”

“So what? When I knew him as Terrance, God seemed pretty into the idea of having me and Satan get together. And it’s not as if he thought we’d be celibate. He’s seen that we’re not celibate. I was choking on Satan’s cock yesterday when he called.”

“Gross!” Jesus cried. “What is wrong with you?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Most things, I expect. Why do you think he’d have a problem with you getting some when he was so eager to help me?”

“Because that’s the way it is,” Jesus snapped. “He cares about everyone but me.”

Jimmy laughed. “What? No he doesn’t. You’re his kid. Of course he cares about you. He loves you.”

“Bullshit,” Jesus said. “Ever since he created humans, he’s loved them more than he’s ever loved me. He talks about them all the time, even when they’re pissing him off.”

“I don’t believe that. Isn’t the whole point of God that he’s full of love with a healthy dose of vindictiveness?”

“You’d think,” Jesus muttered. “But he fawns over everyone on Earth, always watching over them.” He scowled up at the ceiling. “He doesn’t give me the time of day.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Jimmy asked. “If anyone has a direct line to God, it’d be you.”

Jesus rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure. Yeah, we talk about our feelings all the time.”

“See? Then what’s the problem?”

“I was being sarcastic!”

“Oh,” Jimmy said. “I didn’t know you could be sarcastic. They kind of left that part out of the Bible. Not that I’ve actually read it,” he added quickly, “but I think I’d have heard you were a bit of a bitch. Seems like that would have been on the news or something.”

“You don’t understand,” Jesus said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You try being God’s only son who he sent to die because of stupid humans. He knew what was going to happen, and yet he did it anyway.”

Jimmy let out a low whistle. “Dude, that sucks. I didn’t think about it that way. I get it, though. My dad told me once I owed trees an apology for wasting the oxygen they gave me by talking. If you think about it, that’s almost as bad as being crucified. At least it felt like it at the time.”

Jesus’s eyes widened. “Your dad really said that to you?”

Jimmy shrugged awkwardly. “I guess, yeah. I’m not… I wasn’t what he wanted me to be, you know? He wanted me to take over the vacuum repair shop slash meth lab when I got older, but vacuums are boring and meth is bad. When I told him I wanted to do something else with my life, he told me he regretted everything about me, including not pulling out of my mother and letting me drip down her leg.”

“Holy shit,” Jesus breathed.

“It is what it is,” Jimmy said quietly. “But here’s the thing. That’s on him, not me. Yeah, I didn’t turn out like he wanted me to, but he doesn’t get to decide who I’m going to be, or what I do with my life. I’m my own person. I didn’t grow up being who I am because of him. I grew up being who I am despite him.” He patted Jesus’s knee. “I won’t pretend to understand what kind of relationship you have with God. It must suck ass to have to live in his shadow. But don’t you think you owe it to yourself to be who you want to be?”

“It’s not that easy,” Jesus said.

“Why can’t it be?” Jimmy asked. “God is…well. God. But you’re Jesus Fucking Christ. Do you know how cool that is? Like, billions of people know who you are. You’re famous.”

“It’s not that cool,” Jesus mumbled.

“It is,” Jimmy insisted. “They sell candles with your face on them and then leave them on the side of the road for some reason. That’s how you know you’ve made it.” He shook his head. “Look, dude. Parents suck. The majority of the time, they don’t know what they’re doing, and we’re the ones who have to suffer because of that. And at the same time, they still expect us to be better than they were, all while having to do it within the boundaries they set. It works for some people and good for them, but the rest of us are fucked up because of it. You’re not alone in feeling the way you do. Parents are the worst thing to happen to kids.”

Jesus closed his eyes. “I try and talk to him. I even try and pray to him, but he doesn’t hear me.”

“Do you want to keep trying?”

Jesus opened his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Is he worth it?”

Jesus looked away. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to figure it out right now,” Jimmy told him. “And maybe you’ll never figure it out. But dude, you can’t let a shitty parent stop you from living the life you want. You’re better than that.” Jimmy gnawed on is bottom lip, thinking. “If you could do anything in the world—no, the universe, what would it be?”

And Jesus Christ said, “I want to fuck.”

Jimmy blinked. “Huh. Okay. First things first. Hearing you of all people say the word fuck is hardcore. I approve. Second, I can totally help you with that.”

Jesus snapped his head toward him. “But I thought you said you wouldn’t because you’re with Satan.”

“Not me,” Jimmy said. “No offense, but you’re not exactly my type. My tastes tend to run toward daddy bears with horns, a big, red dick, and a penchant for torture.”

“That’s very specific,” Jesus said.

Jimmy sighed dreamily. “Yeah, he’s pretty great.” He shook his head. “But we’re not talking about me and Satan. This is about you, Jesus.” His eyes widened. “Oh, man, I have the best idea.”

“You saying that makes my skin crawl,” Jesus said.

But Jimmy wasn’t listening. He shot up and ran to the panel on the wall. He paused for a moment, tongue sticking out between his teeth. Then he began to type on the screen, fingers moving in a blur. He glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. “You ready for this?”

Jesus sat up, hair falling around his face. “Ready for what?”

“A slumber party where we talk about getting you laid!” Jimmy announced, and hit a green button on the bottom of the screen.

The room transformed immediately. Gone was the dark furniture, the posters on the walls, the carpet, the blackout curtains. With a comical pop! large bunkbeds appeared, filled with frilly pillows adorned with glittery muskrats, the official mascot of sleepovers everywhere. Lights on strings wrapped around the frame of the bunkbeds. The ceiling was covered with plastic green stars, twinkling as brightly as the real thing. On the floor, a white shag carpet tickled the skin between Jimmy’s toes as he kicked off his shoes. The walls were covered with posters of half-naked men and women, all oiled up and glistening. A desk sat underneath the windows, the top littered with magazines with colorful covers, all of which screamed things like DOES HE REALLY LIKE YOU OR IS HE SETTLING BECAUSE HE FEELS THE ENCROACHING EXISTENTIAL DREAD OF DEATH IN HIS SOUL? and GEORGE CLOONEY WANTS YOU TO RECYCLE AND FALL BACK IN LOVE WITH THE EARTH (AND WITH HIM?!?!) and TAKE A QUIZ TO FIND OUT IF YOU’RE A TOP OR A BOTTOM OR BOTH OR NEITHER! and WHAT DOES IT MEAN WHEN HE DOESN’T WANT TO STAY THE NIGHT? IT’S WORSE THAN YOU THINK!

“Wow,” Jimmy said as he looked around the room. “I’m impressive.” He went over to the set of dresser drawers that had appeared against the far wall. Opening the top drawer, he began to rifle through the contents. “No,” he muttered, flinging clothes over his shoulder. “No. Nope. Nope. Nah. That’s not—aha!” He turned around, holding up an outfit.

“I’m not wearing that,” Jesus said as he sat up, eyeing Jimmy warily.

“That’s what you think,” Jimmy whispered, and descended upon Jesus.

*****

Ten minutes later, Jesus Christ stood glowering, arms across his chest, wearing a black and brown onesie with a hood shaped like the head of a raccoon, complete with a fuzzy tail sticking off his rear.

Not to be outdone, Jimmy was wearing a similar onesie, except his was green with a large cloth shell on the back. The hood sitting on his head had a blue bandana around the felt eyes.

“Are you a Ninja Turtle?” Jesus asked miserably.

“Yes,” Jimmy said. “I am. Why, you might be asking? I have no idea! Okay! Now, we’ve already had a pillow fight, so we’re good there. Next, we need to lay on the floor on our stomachs with our feet swinging above us while we talk about boys and figure out how to get you laid.”

“I’m not doing that,” Jesus said.

“You will,” Jimmy said. “Because it’s fun, and if anyone can use some fun in their life, it’s Jesus Christ.” His smile widened when a knock came at the bedroom door. “Right on schedule!” He skipped to the door, flinging it open.

There, standing with a tray of cupcakes with pink frosting and white sprinkles, was Carl, Satan’s butler and righthand man. His pencil-thin mustache twitched below beady eyes. He wore jeans and a button up shirt, closed all the way to the throat. His hair was slicked back and looked oily. Carl was a pyromaniac, having spent most of his life on Earth lighting everything he could find on fire. Unfortunately, seventy-six people died, but Carl had mellowed a bit since coming to Hell. He was one of the best bakers in the underworld. Satan had even given him a cart to sell his wares. But because he was Satan, the cart had no wheels. Carl didn’t seem to mind. He’d burst into tears when Satan had given it to him, thanking the devil profusely and saying that if he’d been given such a gift on Earth, he might not have felt the need to melt buildings and people.

Carl’s baked goods were famous in Hell, but none more so than his cupcakes. “The secret ingredient is love,” he’d told Jimmy once. “And not arsenic like some people named Donna seem to think.”

“Carl!” Jimmy cried as the man stepped into the room. “Those look delicious. Thank you so much. Have you met Jesus?”

“No,” Carl said stiffly. “I haven’t had the pleasure.” He set the tray of cupcakes down on the desk before turning toward the Messiah. Carl bowed rigidly. “Jesus, you honor us by being in our home. Satan told me before he left for Earth that you shall have anything you need during your stay here. If I may, you look positively…flammable.”

“Oh, Carl,” Jimmy said. “You are a delight. But we’re not setting anyone on fire today. And he’s not flammable. He’s a raccoon. There’s a difference.”

“They burn just as easily,” Carl whispered, eying Jesus up and down. “Trust me. I would know.” He licked his lips, tongue scraping along his mustache before he glanced at Jimmy. “And you, my Queen. Staying out of trouble, I hope.”

“We are,” Jimmy said, leading Carl back to the door. “I think we have all we need. Take the rest of the day off. You’ve earned it.”

Carl bowed once more. “Thank you, Queen Jimmy. If you need anything else from me, I’ll be in the kitchen. I’m perfecting a new recipe for blueberry scones. I like watching them bake while I stub out lit cigarettes on my testicles.”

“You’re so fun,” Jimmy said. He stood on his tiptoes, kissing Carl on the cheek. “I can’t wait to try the scones when you’ve finished. I bet they’ll be the best scones anyone has ever made.”

Carl touched his cheek where Jimmy had pressed his lips. “My Queen has blessed me,” he whispered. “I must burn something to keep this feeling alive.” And with that, he spun on his heels, closing the door behind him.

Jimmy turned back around to find Jesus inspecting the cupcakes. “Why do these all have my face on them?” Jesus asked.

“I thought you’d want to eat your feelings,” Jimmy said, bounding over to the desk and stopping shoulder to shoulder with Jesus. “I know that always makes me feel better. Now, grab a cupcake and let’s kick this slumber party into gear!”

*****

They lay on their stomachs on the shag carpet, kicking their feet back and forth above them. Jesus had frosting smeared in the corner of his mouth. Jimmy looked down at the magazines spread out before them, tapping a glittery pink pen against his chin. “Okay,” he said, swallowing the last bit of his cupcake. “First things first. You’re sixteen years old, and I don’t feel comfortable helping a teenager to get laid because that’s gross. Any way you could age yourself up a bit?”

Jesus wiped his mouth before closing his eyes. The air around them thickened slightly, and then Jesus opened his eyes. “Done. Now, I’m eighteen.”

Jimmy squinted at him. “Really? I don’t see any difference.”

Jesus snorted. “That’s because it’s only two extra years.”

“Huh,” Jimmy said. “Yeah, still feels a bit weird. Like, eighteen is the legal age most places, but it’s such an arbitrary number. Why is someone who just turned eighteen capable of making better decisions then they were the day before?”

Jesus sighed. He closed his eyes, and the air thickened once more. Tiny lines appeared around his mouth, his hair a little shorter, more styled and swept up off his head. “Now I’m twenty-three, like you.”

“Damn,” Jimmy said. “That’s fucking cool as balls. Thanks for that. Now I have no issues with trying to get you laid seeing as how being twenty-three allows us to make smart decisions about everything.” He looked down at the Lisa Frank diary sitting on top of the magazines. It was opened to a pink page, the top of which was titled PLAN TO HELP JESUS LOSE HIS VIRGINITY. “Okay, first, the most important question of all. And it’s okay if you don’t know the answer right away, or even at all. We’ll figure it out. No pressure, all right?”

Jesus swallowed the rest of his cupcake. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Jimmy said firmly. “Don’t ever do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I don’t want to be doing this.”

“Except for this,” Jimmy allowed. “Because I love you and only want what’s best for you.” He gnawed on the pen for a moment, thinking. “How to put this in a way you’d understand.  Hmm. Ah! I got it. So, some boys like girls. Some boys like boys. Some boys like boys and girls. Some boys like getting choked with one hand by a woman named Bitter Wanda who uses her other hand to stick a metal rod into their urethra.”

Jesus stared at him, mouth hanging open.

Jimmy shook his head. “Right, that’s a bit more advanced than you’re probably ready for right now. That’s okay! Once you get the ball rolling, you can start figuring out what kinks you have. Rule number one!” He lowered the pen to the page and began to write. “Never let anyone make you feel bad for stuff you want to try sexually, so long as there is open and honest communication, consent, and nothing illegal.”

Jesus gulped. “That’s the first rule?”

“It is,” Jimmy said, dotting the i’s with little hearts. “It’s a good first rule to have because consent is important, even if you’re having vanilla sex. And you have the right to say no at any point. Just because you give consent at first doesn’t mean you can’t take it back during. Your partner or partners should stop immediately, no matter what.”

“That…makes sense,” Jesus said begrudgingly.

“Second!” Jimmy said, writing the number 2 with a flourish, pleased this seemed to be going so well already. “What or who are you into? Absolutely no judgments.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who do you want to have sex with?” Jimmy asked. “Are you straight? Queer? Questioning? Sexuality is a spectrum. Most people think they are firmly lodged at one end of the spectrum or the other, but I think it’s a bit more fluid than that. Attraction can be complicated, but again, so long as it’s legal, you can feel any way you want.”

“I…don’t know?”

“Questioning,” Jimmy said as he wrote it down. “That’s good! And even if you’re not questioning, you don’t have to pick a label if you don’t want to. Me, I’m gay as fuck, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate others who I may not necessarily be attracted to.” He frowned before glancing at Jesus. “Or maybe you don’t even want to have sex? If you’re asexual, that’s cool too. It’s not for me, but I love my ace brothers and sisters.”

“No,” Jesus said quickly. “I’m not asexual.” He flushed furiously. “I…uh. I want to have sex. A lot of sex.”

“Great!” Jimmy said, writing down the words Jesus Christ wants to bone. “That’s really helpful. Thank you. Okay, so we’ve talked about consent and attraction. We’ve figured out you’re not asexual. Not to get too heavy, but the third thing we need to think about is what you want from sex.”

Jesus groaned. “I’m so uncomfortable.”

Jimmy bumped his shoulder against Jesus’s. “Yeah, no, I get that, but if you can’t talk about it with me, then you might not be able to talk about it with a sexual partner. That could mean you’re not ready. You need to be able to talk about what you want so no one makes the wrong assumption.”

Jesus rested his chin on his arms. “Fine.”

“Good,” Jimmy said. “Now, do you want to just have sex? Or are you looking for something more, like a relationship?”

Jesus mumbled something that Jimmy couldn’t quite make out.

“Say that again?”

Jesus huffed out a breath. “I told you I want to fuck. I’m not looking for a boyfriend or girlfriend. I just want to get rid of my virginity.”

Jimmy frowned. “Are you sure you’re doing this because you want it? Or because you’re trying to get back at your dad?”

Jesus narrowed his eyes. “Does it matter either way?”

“Of course it does,” Jimmy said. “Look, JC, you can’t just…virginity is a construct, right? It’s not this sacred thing that some people make it out to be.”

“Then what’s the problem with—”

“But,” Jimmy said, overriding him, “once you do this, you can’t ever take it back. Your first time will only ever be your first time. There’s nothing you can do to change that. And honestly? Chances are the first time you have sex it’s going to suck. Like, a lot. It’s going to be gross and messy, and it might even hurt a little. You won’t know what you’re doing, and no matter how much I can prepare you, it probably won’t go like you think. You might even finish and wonder what all the fuss was about.”

Jesus softened. “Is that how it was for you, my child?”

“Okay,” Jimmy said. “Rule number three. Never call me your child again. That’s weird.”

“Sorry,” Jesus said hastily. “Old habits die hard.” Then, with a quirk of his lips, “Not has hard as I died, but you know how it is.”

Jimmy wheezed. “Holy fuck. Dude, that was dark. I approve. You’ll get the hang of this yet, just watch.” Once he’d sufficiently recovered, he continued. “My first time wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good, either. Not like how it is now. Being with Satan has opened a bunch of doors I didn’t even know were there. I won’t tell you what’s behind those doors because I really don’t want to scare off Jesus Christ, but it’s all about learning what you want, and how to make that happen. And what you want now might not be what you want in the future. It’s like…think of yourself like an explorer cutting through a jungle trying to find a city of gold. You have to go through a lot of vines and snakes and bugs burrowing under your skin before you find what you want.”

“That sounds terrible,” Jesus said, looking horrified.

“Maybe some of it will be,” Jimmy admitted. “But bad sex will only make good sex that much better. But again, don’t push yourself to do something you’re not ready for.” He looked down at the page. “Have you ever done anything with anyone? Not sex, but, like, kissing or something?”

Jesus groaned. “There was…I had a friend, back when I was alive. Her name was Mary Magdalene. She was one of my followers. We…kind of made out a little.”

“Oh,” Jimmy said, forehead bunching up. “That’s…not your mom, right?”

“What? No! What the hell?”

“I dunno, dude,” Jimmy said. “I always thought the Virgin Mary was the same as Mary Magdalene. How the hell did you meet two people named Mary in the Middle East? That’s weird.”

“I walk on water,” Jesus said flatly. “Everything about me is weird.”

“What about her, then?” Jimmy asked. “She’s up in Heaven, right? Couldn’t you just hook up with her when you go home?”

Jesus shook his head. “She’s married to Elvis Presley now.”

“Right,” Jimmy said. “That makes sense. Okay, so no Mary. Did you like kissing her?”

Jesus grimaced. “It wasn’t…bad, but it wasn’t that great, either. It was like her entire mouth was made of her tongue. And she kept wanting me to say her name, but that’s the name of my mom, and it freaked me out.”

“Yeesh,” Jimmy said. “That’s rough, man. I once fucked a guy named Jimmy and calling out my own name gave me a complex that no therapy could touch. So, what do you like, then? Describe someone you’re attracted to.”

“Okay,” Jesus said slowly, closing his eyes. “I would want them to be smart.”

“Smart,” Jimmy repeated, writing down the word. “What else?”

“Nice,” Jesus said. “I don’t like mean people, and I definitely wouldn’t like that during sex.”

“Rock on,” Jimmy said, writing nice. “Keep going. This is good.” 

Jesus rolled over onto his back, the raccoon hood falling off his head. He stared up at the ceiling, tapping his fingers against his stomach. “A real go-getter. Someone who has…” He coughed. “Big hands. I like big hands.”

“Sweet,” Jimmy said, writing down Does Jesus want to be spanked? Ask him later! “I’m with you there, friend. Keep on keeping on.”

“And maybe they’ll be in a sort of…supervisory role,” Jesus said. “Someone who’s risen through the ranks and done well for themselves.”

“That…was oddly specific, but okay, I’m with you.”

“None of my former disciples,” Jesus said quickly. “They’ve all got their own things going on, and that would probably freak me out if we tried.”

“Notice how I’m not asking you about the popcorn shrimp at the Last Supper,” Jimmy said.

Jesus ignored him. “And definitely not an angel. Maybe…maybe the opposite of an angel.”

“Someone from Cleveland?” Jimmy asked.

Jesus said, “What.”

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “That’s the only opposite of an angel I can think of.”

“Red skin. Maybe some nubby horns. Even a tail, if they happen to have one.”

“Red…skin…” Jimmy said, writing quickly. “Nubby…horns…and a…tail.” He cocked his head. “That’s…”

Jesus covered his face with his hands. “Do you really need me to say it?”

“Well, yeah. Open and honest, remember? That’s a big part of it. If you can’t say it, are you really ready for it?”

Jesus dropped his hands, mouth twisted. “A demon.”

Jimmy’s pen froze above the page. “Um, what?” He looked down at the page. Someone nice. Someone with big hands. Someone who rose through the ranks, did well for himself, and had red skin and nubby horns. Someone who had a tail. “Oh your dad, you want to fuck Derek?”

Jesus’s face was bright red. He wrung his hands so hard, his knuckles popped. “He seemed…interesting.”

Jimmy laughed. He stopped when he saw Jesus blinking rapidly as if upset. “Oh, no, Jesus, I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“Then what was so funny?” Jesus demanded.

“I was surprised,” Jimmy said. “I wasn’t expecting that. Nothing bad, I promise. And dude, Derek is amazing. Not only is he one of the best summoning demons, he’s loyal to Satan and me. Ever since he was promoted to a supervisory position, the amount of souls we’ve received has increased tenfold. Satan has mentioned a few times how proud he is of Derek. He’s even thinking about making him in charge of all summoning, not just a supervisor.” Jimmy grinned down at Jesus and waggled his eyebrows. “That does it for you, huh? Want a little bit of that demon semen?”

The tips of Jesus’s ears were pink. “Why would you say it like that?” Then, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Jimmy said. “Derek doesn’t have a partner. I don’t know why. He’s honestly the best demon in Hell aside from Satan. His eyebrows are fucking killer. If I wasn’t with Satan, I’d probably get all up on that.”

Jesus looked away. “Do you think he’d…?”

“Only one way to find out,” Jimmy said. “We’ll go see him tomorrow.”

Jesus jerked his head toward Jimmy, eyes wide with panic. “What? No! That’s too soon!”

“Okay,” Jimmy said easily. “Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, remember?”   

Jesus fisted his hair, pulling on it as he squeezed his eyes shut. “But I do want it. I just…”

Jimmy gently pulled Jesus’s hands out of his hair. He turned his hand, linking his fingers with Jesus’s. “You’re nervous.”

Jesus squeezed his hand, letting out a long breath. “Really, really nervous. What if he doesn’t like me?”

Jimmy kissed the back of Jesus’s hand with a loud smack. “You’re literally Jesus Christ. What’s not to like? Worse thing that happens is he’s not interested, and then we’ll figure something else out. But I think you’ll end up being surprised.” Visions of an autumn wedding danced across his mind, Jesus in a lovely veil, Derek wearing a tuxedo complete with a bowtie made from the lung of a six-pack-a-day smoker.

“Then there’s my dad,” Jesus muttered, startling Jimmy out of his thoughts. “He’ll lose his hisdamned mind over it.”

“Nope,” Jimmy said. “What you do with your body is your own choice. God doesn’t get to have a say. You are old enough to make your own decisions, and if you want to fuck a demon, then there’s not much he can do about it.” Jimmy paused, considering. “Well, he could probably smite Derek where he stands, but Satan would have a big problem with that, so I doubt God would go through with it. Isn’t your dad a big proponent of free will and crap? Either that or he hates it. I can’t remember which. Regardless, he doesn’t get to let everyone else make their own decisions and not allow you to do the same. Besides, I think he sort of owes you for all the shit he’s put you through. Like, I love your dad, but he can make some pretty stupid decisions. Fuck God.”

Jesus slapped a hand over Jimmy’s mouth. “You can’t say stuff like that!” he hissed. “He’ll hear you!”

Jimmy licked Jesus’s palm, causing him to pull it back in disgust. “Let him hear me. God knows I think he’s cool, and if it wasn’t for him, I might never have summoned Satan. But that doesn’t give him the right to lord over…oh, wait. I guess it kind of does. Still! You’re his son, sure, but you have a mind of your own. If you want to sex up Derek, then you go for it.” He lowered his voice towards Jesus, dropping his voice to a whisper. “And demon sex is the best sex. Trust me on that.” He winked.

Jesus stared at him, mouth agape. Then he snapped his mouth closed with an audible click and nodded. “You’re right. I can’t keep thinking about what Dad expects of me. I’m my own person. And if I want to fornicate with a demon, then I will.”

Jimmy made a face. “Okay, next rule: don’t call it fornicating. You’re not a beaver in heat.”

Jesus stood swiftly, hands in fists on his hips. “I get to make my own choices,” he announced.

Jimmy shot up, arms above his head. “Hell yeah! There’s the confidence I’m looking for! Who are you?”

“I’m Jesus Christ!” he bellowed.

“And what do you want to do?”

“I want to be plowed by a demon named Derek! I want to be bent over a rock and fucked until I’m cross-eyed! I want to drool because I’m incapable of controlling the muscles in my mouth! I want to not have a single himdamn coherent thought in my head because the only thing I’m aware of is demon dick in my asshole!”

“Whoa,” Jimmy whispered. “The Bible really got it wrong about you. Man, just think about how much better it could’ve been if they’d written stuff like this in it. I would’ve read the hell out of it.”

Jesus sniffed, looking oddly proud. “Damn right.”

Jimmy clapped his hands. “All right! Let’s get Jesus fucked!”

Jesus immediately deflated.

Jimmy said, “What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Jesus shuffled his feet. “You probably want me to change how I look.”

“Uh, no? Why would I want to do that?”

“Not this,” Jesus said, pulling on the raccoon onesie. “What I normally wear.”

“Oh,” Jimmy said, relieved. “You mean the whole let’s-pretend-it’s-2001-and-you-only-shop-at-Hot-Topic thing because you’re emo and/or goth and you have crows feasting on your soul?”

“Yeah,” Jesus mumbled.

“Nope,” Jimmy said. “If you’re happy with how you look, then so am I. If someone can’t appreciate you for who you are, then they don’t deserve your time.” He cupped Jesus’s face. “People will always try and bring you down. Don’t do what they think is their job for them. You wear whatever you want to wear, and you look however you want to look. If anyone has a problem with that, fuck them in their stupid faces. And then tell me what they said, and I’ll deal with them myself. I’m the Queen of Hell, after all.” He brushed his thumbs under Jesus’s eyes. “Confidence isn’t easy. I won’t lie to you about that. But if you believe in yourself, then anything is possible.”

“Easier said than done,” Jesus whispered.

“It is,” Jimmy agreed. “But think of it this way. I’m walking with you on a sandy beach, but there’s only one set of footprints. Do you know why?” He turned Jesus’s head to the side and whispered in his ear, “Because I’m carrying you.”

Jesus groaned as he shoved a cackling Jimmy away. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Nah,” Jimmy said, wiping his eyes. “That’s going to be Derek’s job. And you’ve got your work cut out for you. I’ve seen him at the Boiling Hot Springs of Hypocrisy Sponsored by Marco Rubio. He’s definitely packing. Derek, not Marco. I think Marco has a micro penis. You’ll need to make sure you’re properly stretched and use lots of lube before you take him in. We can talk about stretching techniques if you—”

Jesus raised his hands above his head. A bright light burst from his palms. As soon as it faded, he dropped his arms back to his sides. “There. Done.”

“Done,” Jimmy repeated slowly. “As in…”

Jesus scowled at him. “As in I just made sure that I’m stretched and lubed already.”

“You can do that?” Jimmy said with a gasp. “That’s so freaking cool! Why did the Bible waste time with the whole you multiplying bread and fish thing when they could have talked about something like this? Damn, I’d have gone to church if they preached about that.”

“I can do lots of things,” Jesus said, lips quirking.

“Whoa there, sport,” Jimmy said. “Let’s save some of it for Derek, huh? Maybe get rid of the lube since we won’t be going Derek hunting until tomorrow. Don’t want to make a mess of your onesie until it’s time for Derek to help you make that mess.”

Jesus sighed and raised his hands once more. Light flashed again, and Jimmy heard a wet suction sound. “There,” Jesus said. “Done.”

“Oh man,” Jimmy said, fist pumping the air. “I can’t believe how awesome this is going to be. You should’ve come to Hell a long time ago. I’m so happy that I get to be your friend. You’re cool, you know that? Best. Vacation. Ever.”

And for the first time since Jimmy had met him, Jesus Christ smiled a real smile.

*****

The next morning, Jimmy and Jesus were walking through Hell back toward the summoning tubes. The denizens of Hell stared at them with wide eyes as they passed by, but Jesus and Jimmy ignored them for the most part. Both were a bit tired, seeing as how they’d stayed up late the night before talking about boys and burritos and this one guy that Jimmy had known on Earth named Pete Is Neat, so-called because he could suck his own dick and therefore, was in a relationship with himself. He’d even tried to get married to himself, but the Supreme Court had decided it wasn’t allowed. “But that’s okay,” Jimmy told Jesus. “Satan said we’re getting, like, half of SCOTUS after they die. He’s really looking forward to Brett Kavanaugh. He’s going to give him beer enemas.”

When it was time for bed, they’d argued over who’d get the top bunk. Jesus won this argument by threatening to turn Jimmy into a pile of sponges. Truth be told, this was a remarkably effective threat, and Jimmy had graciously allowed Jesus to have the top bunk.

Jimmy had awoken this morning very determined. Jesus, for his part, hadn’t seemed to backtrack to how he’d been when he’d arrived in Hell, but Jimmy could tell he was still nervous. He understood that; the art of mating was a complicated dance. Though he thought Derek wouldn’t mind fucking the Son of God, it was still up to Jesus to seal the deal.

Still, he wanted to make sure that Jesus wasn’t having doubts. “We don’t have to do this,” he said, taking Jesus’s hand in his own. “Say the word, and we can call it off and go find something else to do, like throwing rotten milk at the people who were sent to Hell because they mowed their lawn at seven in the morning. Either way is fine with me.”

Jesus brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. Jimmy had helped him dress for success, though not pushing Jesus out of his comfort zone. He wore his boots with the silver buckles. His raver pants were green instead of black, and he’d borrowed a shirt from Jimmy, a crop top that proclaimed him do be ON THE PROWL in bedazzled pink letters. Jesus’s toned stomach looked awesome, especially with the curly treasure trail that disappeared into the top of his pants. Jesus had also used Jimmy’s lip gloss, his lips shiny and plump. He looked hot as shit, something Jimmy had announced with no small amount of glee.

Jesus shook his head. “No, I want to do this. I just…” He squeezed Jimmy’s hand.

“You’re a little anxious,” Jimmy said. “That’s a totally acceptable way to feel right now. This is a really big deal. I have problems with the idea of virginity, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel the same. Make sure you’re doing this for you and no one else. This isn’t something you can take back, and though I think you’ll probably wonder what the big deal was after you’re done, it doesn’t make this easier.”

“You’re smarter than people give you credit for,” Jesus said.

Jimmy shrugged. “I get that a lot. It used to bug the shit out of me, but then I realized that’s not my problem. If people want to underestimate me, then that’s on them. It just means when I prove them wrong, it’s that much sweeter.” He tugged on Jesus’s hand, causing him to stop. “I used to be really hard on myself. For a long time, I thought everyone who talked shit about me was right. My dad. Teachers. Police. Leonardo DiCaprio when I told him he should date someone his own age instead of twenty-year-old models. But ever since I came to Hell, I realized that I’m so much more than others made me out to be. You know what helped me figure that out?”

“Satan?” Jesus said.

Jimmy shook his head. “No. Well, he was part of it, sure, but not the biggest part. Relationships, no matter if they’re platonic or sexual or romantic, aren’t always a fix. Satan helped me to become the best person I can be, but most of the work had to come from me. Confidence and being okay with yourself can’t always come from other people. That’s shit you sometimes need to figure out for yourself. And that can be stupid hard when you have people around you who don’t think you’re capable. But you know what I figured out?”

“What?” Jesus asked.

“Fuck them,” Jimmy said cheerfully. “Anyone who doesn’t think you can do what you set your mind to aren’t worth keeping around. You have so many people who believe in you, Jesus. But until you believe in yourself, you won’t find what you’re looking for.”

“It’s hard,” Jesus admitted.

“It is,” Jimmy said. “It’s really hard. But in the end, it’s so, so worth it. I can do anything because I believe I can. Do I still make mistakes? Hell yeah, I do. All the damn time, and I apologize when I do.. But I’m the motherfucking Queen of Hell, and I’m a force to be reckoned with.”

“Satan’s very lucky to have you,” Jesus whispered.

Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I tell him.” He sobered. “But honestly? I’m the lucky one. I’ve found a place where I belong, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Jimmy looked toward the summoning tubes in the distance. “Dad is going to lose his mind when he finds out about this.”

“Probably,” Jimmy said. “But you can’t live your life how he expects you to. You gotta forge your own path. And hey, at least on this path, you’re gonna get that good, good demon dick, so, if I may, your dad can die mad about it.”

Jesus choked on his tongue. “Why do you say stuff like that?”

Jimmy snorted. “Dude, we’re in Hell. We can say whatever we want. Watch.” He sucked in a deep breath, then bellowed, “Fuck God!”

“Fuck God!” dozens of demons screamed in response.

“See?” Jimmy said. “You want to give it a go?”

Jimmy thought Jesus would decline. He was pleasantly surprised when Jesus tilted his head back toward the red sky and shouted, “Fuck my dad!”

“Fuck your dad!” demons cried in response.

Jesus panted, chest heaving, but his eyes were alight as he looked at Jimmy. “That felt good.”

Jimmy grinned at him. “You’re so rad, Jesus. I’m happy you’re here. Come on. Let’s go get you laid.”

*****

They reached the summoning platform in quick time. Jesus had a death grip on Jimmy’s hand, letting him lead the way. The platform was abuzz, demons moving swiftly around them as they worked. The summoning tubes shuddered and shook as demons rose to Earth. For a moment, Jimmy thought Derek wasn’t here, and frowned. But then he heard a familiar voice further down the platform, and tugged on Jesus’s hand, pulling him along.

They stopped near the guardrail looking over a roiling sea of lava. “Okay,” Jimmy said. “Act cool. We’re gonna hang here for a bit, get the lay of the land.”

Jesus let Jimmy’s hand go and gripped the guard rail. “Okay,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, and out his mouth. Jimmy stood next to him, letting him center himself without distraction.

Jimmy looked out over the demons, trying to find Derek. It didn’t take long. The crowd parted, and Derek was there, frowning down at the tablet in his hands. Jimmy took a moment to take him in, trying to see what Jesus saw. Derek wasn’t the handsomest demon in Hell—that title belonged to Daddy—but he wasn’t without his charms. His skin was a rusty red, his black, nubby horns shiny on the top of his head. He wore only black jean shorts, his soft stomach hanging slightly over the top. His arms were thinly muscled, his tail long and curling round the hooves that made up his feet. His black eyes were narrowed as he looked down at the tablet, his tremendous eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

But even more than physical attractiveness, Jimmy knew Derek to be kind. Which, for a demon, was no small feat. He was hardworking and had earned the devotion of the demons who worked underneath him. He was smart and loyal and had a big dick which, in Jimmy’s approximation, was just the bee’s knees.

 “I get it,” Jimmy said. “I see now why you’d want it to be him.”

 Jesus jerked his head round wildly. “He’s here?”

“He is,” Jimmy said. He took Jesus’s chin in his hand and turned his gaze toward Derek, who was scratching the back of his neck with his sharp fingernails.

“Oh,” Jesus breathed.

“Yeah, oh,” Jimmy said. “You’re fucking adorable, you nerd. How do you want to play this? Do you want to go over on your own? Or do you want me to take the lead? Either way is fine with me. Your call.”

Jesus looked stricken as he pulled his face from Jimmy’s hand. “You can’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Jimmy promised. “At least until I know you’re going to get your butt reamed.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Jesus muttered.

“Second thoughts?”

Jesus hesitated, then shook his head.

“Okay. But remember what I said. If at any point you change your mind, say so. I know Derek will listen. I wouldn’t put you in this position if I thought otherwise.”

“What do I say?” Jesus asked.

“Whatever you want,” Jimmy told him. “Don’t try to be someone you’re not. Be yourself. You’re Jesus Christ. You can walk on fucking water, man. Not many other people can say that. In fact, the only other person who can is Britney Spears, but she’s not here and you are.”

Jesus nodded and puffed out his chest. “I’m Jesus Christ.”

“Yep!”
           

“And I can walk on water.”

“Hell yeah!”

“And I’m going to get that good, good demon dick!”

“Fuck. Yes. Let’s do this thing!” He turned back toward the demons and shouted, “Derek! Hey, Derek!”

Derek lifted his head, looking around. When he saw Jimmy waving at him, he smiled. That smile disappeared and his jaw dropped as his gaze settled on Jesus standing next to Jimmy.

“Hook, line and sinker,” Jimmy whispered. “I knew the crop top would seal the deal.”

“He’s coming over,” Jesus hissed.

“He is,” Jimmy said out of the corner of his mouth. “It’s go time. Rock and roll.”

Derek pushed his way through the demons, stopping a couple of feet away. Though he tried to keep his eyes on his Queen, Jimmy noticed he kept glancing at Jesus. Derek bowed low, the tablet blinking furiously. “Queen Jimmy. I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you’d be showing our guest all the best that Hell has to offer.”

“Oh, I am,” Jimmy said.

Derek blinked as he stood upright. “What do you mean?”

“I was just telling Jesus that you’re one of the best things about Hell,” Jimmy told him. “He’s curious about the work you do and was very impressed when I told him you were the youngest demon to ever be promoted to supervisor. Isn’t that right, Jesus?”

“Yeah!” Jesus blurted loudly, causing Jimmy to wince. “You’re so…so interesting.”

“Really?” Derek asked, eyebrows rising almost to his blunt horns. “I’m honored that you think so, Jesus. I’ve never had anyone from Heaven say something like that to me before. Usually, it’s more…well.” His voice deepened to something grating and terrible. “Begone, demon! I cast you back to the pit from whence you came!” He cleared his throat. “Or something like that.”

“Do you make humans vomit green goop like they did in that one movie?” Jesus asked.

Derek sighed. “No. That was a bit of artistic license they took. I’m not really into throwing up. I don’t like the taste.”

Jesus had stars in his eyes. “Neither do I,” he said, sounding awed.

“Wow,” Jimmy said. “You two have so much in common. Hey, I know! Derek, you should show Jesus what you do here as a supervisor. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Derek blanched. “Oh, I don’t know.” He shuffled his hooves. “It’s probably not as exciting as Jesus is used to.”

“No,” Jesus said quickly. “I bet it’s even more exciting.” He looked down at his hands, picking at his thumbnail. “I mean, if you’re not too busy. You’re probably busy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your—”

“You’re not interrupting!” Derek exclaimed loudly. He grimaced, biting his bottom lip. Then, “I mean, I’d be happy to show you my work. If you want.”

“Great!” Jimmy said. “And since I already know everything about what you do, I’ll just stay right here and let you two crazy kids get to it. Jesus, that all right with you?”

Jesus looked like he was on the cusp of panic, but before Jimmy could open his mouth, a change came over Jesus. He lost the tenseness in his shoulders, and lifted his head, holding it high. For a moment, Jimmy could see why he was who he was. An all-consuming power emanated from him, and Jimmy felt a fluttering in his chest, almost as if his soul was burning like the stars. “I’d like that,” Jesus said. “Derek, can you give me just a second? I need to ask Jimmy something.”

“Of course,” Derek said, backing away slowly, never breaking his gaze from Jesus. “I’ll be right over there. Come over whenever you’re ready.” He bumped into another demon and almost dropped his tablet. He cursed under his breath before spinning around on his hooves and hurrying away.

“What’s up?” Jimmy asked. “You have questions? Okay, we can go over this again. You need to relax your throat. You’ll probably gag at first, but so long as you cover your teeth with your lips and play with his balls, he won’t even notice that you’re—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Jesus snapped. “I know I can suck a dick if I put my mind to it.”

“The student has become the master,” Jimmy said, impressed. “Righteous. What’s up?”

Jesus said, “You’re…you’re not going to leave, right?”

Jimmy smiled. “Nah, man. I’ll be right here. You want to leave, let me know. I’d offer to even come watch if you and Derek get down to bidness, but I’m not really into spectator sports.”

“And you wouldn’t do that to Satan,” Jesus said.

“Exactly.”

“You really love him, huh?”

Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, I do. More than anything in any world. He’s…well. He’s Satan, yeah, but he’s so much more than that, at least to me. I get to see the side of him that no one else does. To most, he’s this fearful thing that rules over Hell. To me, he’s Daddy. And he needs someone to take care of him, to let him take off the crown and just…exist.”

“I want that,” Jesus said. “Maybe not today, but one day.”

Jimmy patted his arm. “And you’ll get there. Maybe with Derek, or maybe with someone else. You have time, man. Make the most of it.”

Jesus nodded. “I’m going to go talk to Derek now. And maybe have sex with him.”

“Sweet,” Jimmy said, pushing Jesus toward him. “Oh, and I forgot one thing that’s really important. No big, but I figured you should know so you’re not caught off guard. When demons come, they come a lot. Like, if they were human, you’d probably think it was a medical emergency given how much there is. Don’t try and swallow it on your first try. It won’t go well for you.”

“Wait, what?”

“No time!” Jimmy cried. “As Mother Teresa liked to say when she wasn’t busy being racist, if at first you can’t succeed in swallowing, try, try again!”

“She didn’t say that!”

“That’s what you think,” Jimmy told him. “Go, my young Padawan. May the Force be with you, or whatever you call your powers. Hail Mary? Wait, that’s sportsball.”

Jesus glanced back only once before squaring his shoulders, holding his head high as he stalked toward Derek. Demons scattered out of his way, but Jesus paid them no attention, eyes only for Derek, who looked more flustered than usual as Jesus stopped in front of him.

Jimmy was too far away to hear what they were talking about, but he kept on eye on them to make sure Jesus didn’t need to be rescued, and that no one tried to interrupt them. Derek was waving his arms wildly pointing up at the summoning tubes while Jesus nodded along.

“Ah, young love,” Jimmy mused to himself. “Or young lust.” He chuckled when Jesus awkwardly leaned just a little bit closer to Derek, as if he didn’t have super hearing. Or maybe he didn’t. Jimmy didn’t know much about what Jesus’s magic entailed.

“Who are we staring at?” a voice whispered in his ear, causing him to jump. He whirled around and found Donna watching him, amused.

“Hey, girl,” Jimmy said, relaxing against the guardrail again. “What brings you out of the office?”

She handed over his phone. “You left this at home. Satan called me, pissed off that you hadn’t responded to the dick pics he’d sent you while on Earth. He wanted me to check up on you, make sure everything is all right.”

Jimmy laughed as he took the phone from her. “Did you look at the photos?”           

“Of course I did,” she said. “He’s getting better with the lighting. You can actually see his dick this time.”

Jimmy sighed happily. “Yeah, he’s the best. Thanks for getting it for me. I’ve been a bit distracted.” He flipped through a few of the forty-seven pics Satan had sent. His favorite was Satan standing on Abraham Lincoln’s lap at the Lincoln Memorial, his dick fisted in his hand, one arm curved around the great emancipator’s stone neck. He wore a face mask, but Jimmy could tell he was sneering sexily behind it. He’d have to jerk off to that later.

“By what?” she asked, looking around. “Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting Christ?”

“Yeah, but he’s doing pretty well on his own.” He nodded toward Jesus and Derek, Jesus’s head rocked back as he laughed at something Derek had said.

Donna squinted at them, looked at Jimmy, then back at Jesus and Derek. “Are…are they…?”

“Gonna fuck?” Jimmy asked. “That’s the plan.”

“Holy shit,” Donna breathed. “God is going to be so pissed off with you.” She shook her head. “Just when I thought I had you figured out, you go and do something like this. I approve.”

“Thank you,” Jimmy said, pleased. “Honestly, though, it’s all Jesus. He just needed a little boost in his confidence. And Derek’s a good demon. He deserves a bit of happiness.”

“Why did you help him?” Donna asked.

“I understand him,” Jimmy said. “Maybe not completely, but I know what it’s like to feel lost with no one to turn to. He’s got this…hmm. This weight to him. I mean, he’s Jesus. Of course he does. But it’s a little more than that. He and God are always supposed to be the ones humans turn to in their time of need. They’re always supposed to listen, even if they don’t reply. But who listens to them? To him?” He shrugged. “I figured he could use that, you know?”

Donna sniffled. “I hate you for making me have feelings.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I hate you too.”

*****

Donna went back to the office a little while later, leaving Jimmy to watch over Jesus. He was distracted while praising a group of demons who chittered around him in pleasure when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to find Jesus and Derek standing side by side, hands clasped between them. Jesus was smiling softly at Derek, and the demon looked like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Hey, guys,” Jimmy said as the group of demons left them alone. “Everything cool?”

Derek cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, my Queen. Ah. If I may.”

“Always,” Jimmy said.

Derek glanced at Jesus, who nodded. He looked back at Jimmy, determined. “I don’t ask for much.”

“You don’t,” Jimmy agreed. “It’s irritating, to be honest.”

Derek’s words came out with a practiced clip, as if he’d gone over them in his head on his way over. “But if I could, I’d like to take the afternoon off. I haven’t asked for time off in seven hundred and twenty-six years, so I hope this won’t be an issue.”

Jimmy arched an eyebrow. “And so you’d like to take the rest of the day to do…something else?”

Derek nodded furiously. “I understand if you say no, though I hope you won’t. You’re the queen, after all. Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes fondly. “I’m just giving you shit, man. Of course you can take the rest of the day off. Hell, take tomorrow off too, if you want.” He grinned at them. “Just make sure to drink plenty of water.”

Jesus groaned, turning his face into Derek’s shoulder. “I told you he’d be okay with it.”

Derek looked stunned, mouth agape. He closed it and opened it a few more times, before a tiny little halo of fire began to form above his head, a sure sign that he was happy. “Thank you, Queen Jimmy.”

“Of course,” Jimmy said. “Jesus, you’re good to go?”

Jesus nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Awesome,” Jimmy said, clapping them both on the shoulders. “And Derek, before you go, one last thing. I’m trusting you with Jesus. If anything happens to him on your watch, God will be the least of your concerns. You don’t want to face my wrath. Understood?”

Derek gulped. “Yes, my Queen.”

“Good!” Jimmy said happily. “Just so we’re clear. Now, get out of here, you two. Have fun doing each other. You’ve both earned it.”

“You’re so embarrassing,” Jesus moaned.

“I know,” Jimmy said. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Shall we?” Derek asked Jesus, squeezing his hand.

“Yes,” Jesus said. They nodded at Jimmy before walking away. Before they got too far, Jesus stopped, whispered something to Derek. And before Jimmy could prepare himself, Jesus turned and flung himself at Jimmy. Jimmy stumbled back against the guardrail which groaned underneath their combined weight. “Thank you,” Jesus whispered in his ear, arms around Jimmy’s neck. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Jimmy hugged him back as hard as he could. “Anytime, man. You’re always welcome in Hell. See you soon?”

Jesus nodded, and ran back toward Derek. The last Jimmy saw of them was the top of their heads as they disappeared into the crowd.

Jimmy turned back and looked out over the sea of lava, letting his hands dangle over the guardrail. A moment later, the phone in his pocket buzzed. He smiled to himself as he pulled it out, seeing a name he knew as well as his own lighting up the screen.

“Hi, Daddy,” he said as he put the phone to his ear.

“Where have you been?” Satan demanded. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Did you see all the pictures I sent you?”

 “Needy, needy,” Jimmy purred. “Yes, Daddy. I saw the photos. Your dick looks amazing. But not as amazing as it would be in my mouth.”

Satan groaned. “I’m going to ruin you when I get back. You won’t walk straight for at least a hundred years by the time I’m done.”

“Promises, promises,” Jimmy teased.

“Guess where I’m standing right now.”

Jimmy thought hard. “The post office! No, wait. The DMV! No, wait. McDonald’s!”

“Holy fuck, do I love you,” Satan snarled into the phone. “No, I’m in the Oval Office. You wanna have phone sex? God’s busy with Dear Leader, listing off his every sin. It’s going to take at least eight more hours, and I want to come on the Resolute Desk.”

Jimmy sighed happily. “You have the best ideas, Daddy. Tell me everything you’d do to me if I was with you. Let’s see how far I can get towards home before I need to fuck my hand. I bet I can get there before that happens.”

“It’s on,” Satan growled. “You’re in for it now, baby boy.”

He shivered.

*****

Jimmy made it six feet before he found his hand down the front of his pants, jacking off right then and there, Satan chuckling in his ear.

*****

As night began to fall in Hell, the front door to the house opened. Jimmy looked up from the colorful board on the kitchen table where he and Carl were playing Strip Candyland. Carl was in his underwear, and Jimmy was still fully clothed. He’d been cheating the entire time which, of course, was the entire point of Candyland.

“Be right back,” he said to Carl as he stood from the table. “And if you move my piece, I’ll tell Satan.”

“I hate this stupid game,” Carl muttered, stroking his mustache. “I’m going to burn it if you don’t come back soon.”

“Make sure you do it outside,” Jimmy said. “The last time, we had to redo the entire kitchen, and I have it exactly how I want it right now.”

Carl muttered threats under his breath as Jimmy left the kitchen.

Jesus was standing in the doorway, taking off his boots. His hair was a mess, his skin flushed. Jimmy’s eyes widened at the number of hickeys on Jesus’s neck. He wondered what the rest of him looked like underneath his clothes.

Speaking of which, Jesus wasn’t wearing what he’d left in. Instead of looking like a raver kid who danced to industrial techno while high on molly, he wore a familiar pair of jean shorts, and a hoodie that looked a little too big on him, as if it’d belonged to a certain demon.

“Hey,” Jimmy said carefully, trying to gauge Jesus’s mood. “You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.”

Jesus lifted his head, and Jimmy gasped at the bright smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m just here to pick up my backpack. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to spend the night at Derek’s house.”

Jimmy waggled his eyebrows. “Yeah? Went well, then?”

Jesus shrugged. “It went all right.”

“Uh, what?” That wasn’t the ringing endorsement he’d hoped for. Jesus didn’t look like he was hurt, but Jimmy had expected a bit more gushing.

Jesus snorted. “I’m just giving you shit.” He spun in a circle, arms outstretched. “It was amazing. Do you even know how many things I can fit inside me? Why haven’t I been doing this before? It led me to a startling revelation, one more profound than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slow. “I think I’m a power bottom.”

“High five!” Jimmy cried, raising his hand. Jesus slapped their palms together hard enough to sting. “That’s so cool, JC! I didn’t expect you to figure out something like that for at least another couple of decades. But when you know, you know. Welcome to the Power Bottom Club!” He, too, spun in a circle because that was what one did when they helped the Lord figure out his place in the world.

“Hurray!” Jesus said. “And also, Derek and I are in love and we’re going to get married!”

“Yay!” Jimmy crowed. “That’s so—wait. What.”

“He proposed,” Jesus said, clasping his hands against his chest and swaying. “I accepted. I’m going to move down here to Hell and live with him and be his husband! We’re thinking of a spring wedding.”

“What?” Jimmy demanded. “Jesus Christ!”

Jesus laughed. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out. Ha, I love timely references. And the seed of demons.” His expression darkened as he licked his lips. “It’s so sticky.”

“Hold on,” Jimmy said. “Jesus, I know you’re happy about getting butt fucked, but don’t you think this is a little…I don’t know. Fast? You’re come drunk!”

“When you know, you know,” Jesus said. “Right? That’s what you just said, what you’ve spent the last day trying to teach me. I’m tired of holding myself back. I knew, right when Derek came on my face, that I was meant to be by his side for the rest of my life. And you were correct when you said demons come a lot. I honestly thought Derek was going to shrivel into a dusty husk with how much fluid came out of him.”

“Yikes,” Jimmy said. “And also congratulations, but mostly yikes. Derek is on board with this?”

“It was his idea,” Jesus said. “He said I make him feel like he could harvest a billion souls.”

“Aw,” Jimmy said, because even though he gave Satan shit for it, he too knew what it felt like to be a maid in Manhattan. Not literally. He’d never been to Manhattan in his life and didn’t even like drinking them. He’d once been a maid for three days, but of the naked variety and he didn’t clean so much as he danced in front of men who wore golf pants while Jimmy held a feather duster and a loaf of zucchini bread. Still, he knew what it must have felt like for Jesus. “That’s so sweet.” He shook his head. “But dude, your dad is going to lose his freaking mind.” Not to mention Satan, who probably wouldn’t appreciate someone like Jesus taking up residence in Hell. Jimmy wondered if he’d get spanked because of it. He hoped so.

Jesus scoffed. “Whatever. I’m done trying to live my life how he thinks I should. You said yourself I’m my own person, capable of making my own decisions. And this is what I’m deciding to do. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind and tell him all about what you said.”

“O…kay,” Jimmy said. “That sounds…fun. But maybe leave my involvement out of it if you could? Just for shits and giggles.”

Jesus blinked. “But why? Without you, I wouldn’t have come this far. Or come on Derek. And besides, weren’t you the one who moved to Hell after only knowing Satan for a few hours?”

Jesus had him there. “Yes, yes,” Jimmy said hastily. “But your Dad might not see it that way. In fact, he might think the exact opposite, that I corrupted his only son. What if he’s so mad, he tries to start a war with Hell?”

“He won’t,” Jesus said. “He loves his brother too much to try and go against him. And even if he does, I’ll go into battle with Derek at my side. Love will defeat all, even God.”

“Whoa,” Jimmy said. “That’s hella romantic and majorly terrifying. Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of true happiness. If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Jesus said, kissing his cheek. “Which is why I sort of lied? I mean, I am going to spend the night at Derek’s, but the real reason I came back is because Dad texted me that he and Satan are done on Earth and are on their way back, so we might as well get this over with. Satan wanted to surprise you, but I figured if we’re going to tell Dad about me and Derek, you’d be okay with me ruining the surprise.”

“Oh no,” Jimmy whispered.

“I’m burning it!” Carl shrieked from the kitchen as the scent of smoke filled the air. “I’m burning it because FUCK CANDYLAND!”

*****

To say Jimmy was nervous about the return of Satan and God was, perhaps, a bit of an understatement. While he believed Jesus was in love and that Derek would make a damn good husband, he wasn’t quite sure how God would react. He seemed pretty chill for the most part, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn into a burning bush or act like a jerk by sending a plague of locusts into Hell. Which would suck balls, seeing as how they’d fumigated just last month.

But even more so, he was worried about how Satan would take all of this. Jimmy knew Satan’s relationship with God was an important one, and he didn’t like the thought of something like this coming between them.

So when someone knocked on the door, he wiped the sweat from his brow and rushed toward it, steeling his nerves. “Okay,” he said as he threw open the door. “God, have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“What?” Derek said, standing on the front porch of their house.

Jimmy blinked. “You’re not God.”

“I am not,” Derek agreed. “Hi, Queen Jimmy.”

Jimmy grabbed him by his throat and pulled him into the house, slamming the door behind them. “You,” he growled.

“Eep,” Derek squeaked. “I didn’t mean for it to happen! There I was, showing Jesus my extensive collection of bandaids used by celebrities when suddenly, I was balls deep inside him and asking him to marry me!”

Jimmy sighed as he deflated, letting go of Derek’s throat. “It happens to the best of us. But man, your timing sucks. Do you really want to be here when God and Satan come back?”    

“Yes,” Derek said, jutting out his pointy chin. “Where he goes, I go. And if that means being struck down by God, then at least I’ll perish knowing I rimmed Jesus with all the love in the world. Did you know my tongue is four feet long?”

“Aw,” Jimmy said. “You’re cute. I love love.”

“Is that my big strong demon?” Jesus trilled, practically floating as he came out of the kitchen where he’d helped put out the fire Carl had set. “It is. Derek!”

“Jesus!” Derek cried. They collided, arms wrapping around each other. Derek pressed his forehead against Jesus’s. “I know I said I’d wait until you had time to tell your father about us, but I couldn’t be apart from you one second longer. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.”

“You missed me,” Jesus said. “I missed you too. So. Much. These last thirty-two minutes since I was by your side have been the longest thirty-two minutes of my life.” He bit Derek’s bottom lip, stretching it obscenely far before letting it go with a wet pop! that would haunt Jimmy’s dreams for at least three hours. “I can’t wait to feel you in me again,” Jesus whispered. “I wanna get nasty with you.”

“I am very uncomfortable,” Jimmy announced to no one in particular. “Isn’t it fun that we can learn about the limits of our boundaries no matter what age we are? I think that’s fun. We should—Jesus! Get your hands out of Derek’s pants! Your dad is coming!”

“So is Derek if I have anything to say about it,” Jesus growled as Derek’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“I might have made a mistake,” Jimmy said, also to no one in particular.

Before he could find a hose to spray down Jesus and Derek (which is how one stopped dogs in heat, or so Jimmy had read in People Magazine), there came a thunderous crash from outside the house, causing the foundation to shake. It was immediately followed by countless demons shrieking in horror as a heavenly light filled the windows.

“I really hope that’s God this time and not another demon you fucked and decided to marry,” Jimmy muttered, going back to the door. He threw it open, his heart tripping all over itself when he saw his Daddy walking up the path to the house. He had God in a headlock, jerking him back and forth as he rubbed his knuckles on God’s head.

“Knock it off!” God yelled. He disappeared in a puff of smoke, and reappeared behind Satan, jumping on his back and causing them both to fall to the ground with a hard crash. God landed on top of Satan, pushing his face into the dirt. “Yeah, eat it, bitch. Eat that fucking dirt. I am the Supreme Being, and you will bow before me.”

“Huh,” Jimmy said. “I’ve seen something like this before. Pornhub really does have everything.”

Satan and God froze, God holding Satan by the horns, Satan’s claws inches from God’s thighs.

Satan shot up from the ground, knocking God onto his back on the ground. He opened his arms wide, and Jimmy hurtled toward him, leaping the last six feet, knowing he’d be caught. He was, Satan’s big arms coming around him as he wrapped his legs around the Devil’s waist. And then his mouth was full of demon tongue, and Jimmy momentarily forgot all about the fact that he’d helped Jesus get fucked by a demon who he now wanted to marry.

“Wow,” he whispered as Satan pulled away with a knowing grin. “Call me Jennifer Lopez, because I’m living la vida loca.”

Satan squinted at him. “I…what.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimmy said, cupping Satan’s face, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m just happy you’re home.”

“I can see that,” Satan said smugly. “I can feel it, too.” He ground his stomach against Jimmy’s boner. “You missed your Daddy, baby boy?”

“So much,” Jimmy said. “How’d it go with the trip?”

God appeared beside them, punching Satan hard in the arm. “It was epic. Sniveling little bastards. Ivanka tried to offer Kushner up in her place, but I told her to fuck off.”

“She got pissed off when we told her that Kushner was actually a demon in disguise,” Satan said. “You should’ve seen the look on her face.”

“How’d you kill them?” Jimmy asked as Satan set him back down, taking his hand and pulling him close. “Ooh, let me guess. Food poisoning. No. That’s too easy. Rabid wolverines!”

God glared at Satan. “See? I told you rabid wolverines was a good idea.”

Satan scoffed. “Better than blowing up the White House? I think not.”

Jimmy stared at Satan. “You blew up the fucking White House?”   

“Sure did,” Satan said. “Got everyone out of there except for the Trumps by bringing food trucks to the front. Even the Secret Service left them behind because everyone loves fried dough. How can you say no to elephant ears?”

“I couldn’t,” Jimmy said. “They remind me of carnivals..

“Exactly,” Satan said. “Once we were sure all the innocents were clear, God conjured up a hundred bricks of C4, and boom.”

“Wow,” Jimmy said. “That’s impressive and probably a little on the nose, but hey! Mission accomplished!”

“Exactly,” Satan said. “The Trump family is in processing right now. And by processing, I mean—”

“They’re getting thumb tacks shoved into the bottoms of their feet while being forced to chew pineapple-flavored saltwater taffy,” Jimmy said. “Yeah, I know. It was my idea, remember?”

“That it was,” Satan said. He looked around. “Everything okay here while I was gone? Hell seems to be running well.”

“Still smells like ass,” God mumbled. “Would it kill you to put up an air freshener or two? One of those little trees that hangs from a rearview mirror. I really like those. Glade really didn’t hold up their end of the deal you made with them.”

Jimmy scoffed as Satan led him toward the house, God trailing after them. “Of course it is. You were only gone for two days. And yes, everything went mostly well.”

Satan stopped, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean mostly?”

“Hoo boy,” Jimmy said. “Okay, so, don’t be mad.”

“Why don’t you tell me first what I might or might not be mad at before I decide,” Satan said.

“Or,” Jimmy replied, “you can just not be mad and then we’ll see what happens. Have I told you how devilishly handsome you are? Here, let me stroke your horns.”

“Jimmy,” Satan warned.

Jimmy winced. “It’s not a big deal. Well, I don’t think it’s a big deal, but I can see how someone else might feel differently, and I’ll respect that, all while saying that in the grand scheme of things, it’s only a bump in the—”

“Dad!” Jesus cried, stepping out onto the porch, Derek hiding behind him, peering over Jesus’s shoulder. “Jimmy helped me to lose my virginity to a demon named Derek and now we’re in love and I’m moving to Hell to marry him!” He frowned. “In love with Derek, not Jimmy. I can see how that might have been a little confusing. I should work on sentence structure to make sure my point is clear next time.”

Silence.

Then:

“What in the actual medamn fuck?” God said.

“You did what?” Satan snapped at Jimmy.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Jimmy cried. “There I was, minding my own business, asking Jesus about miracles and innocent things like snowflakes and feta cheese, when Jesus said, ‘Hey, Jimmy, can you help me find someone to use my hole?’ And you know that’s a weakness of mine!” He stuck out his bottom lip, making sure it trembled. “It’s why I’d never be good at construction, seeing as how I’m always trying to fill holes rather than dig them.”

“I think you’re better at digging yourself into a hole than you think,” Satan said with a sigh.

“Aw, thank you!” He frowned. “Wait. What?”

“That’s…not quite what happened,” Jesus said. “But close enough.” He sneered at God. “And I don’t give two shits what you think about it. Jimmy taught me I’m my own person, and I get to make decisions for myself. And I’m choosing Derek.”

Derek moaned, hiding behind Jesus.

“Hey, Jesus?” Jimmy asked. “That’s so cool, but you’re giving me far too much credit.” He smiled innocently up at Satan, batting his eyelashes. “Yes, it was partly my fault, but it takes two or seven to tango, depending on the vibe.” He yawned dramatically. “There. That’s better. I’m tired, Daddy. Take me to bed. Your baby boy is sleepy.”

It did not work.

God’s robe began to billow as he took a step toward the porch. A halo of light appeared above his head, so bright, Jimmy had to look away. “My son,” God growled. “In love with a demon?”

“His name is Derek,” Jesus said defiantly. “And he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Is he,” God said. “I’ll be the judge of that. Show yourself, demon.”

Jimmy heard Derek gulp. He thought for a moment that Derek would try and run, but instead, the demon stepped out from behind Jesus, taking his hand and holding it tightly.

“We have to help them,” Jimmy whispered to Satan.

Satan shook his head. “Just watch.”

“Hello, sir,” Derek said, voice cracking. “While I know that this may not be what you wanted for Jesus, I promise you that I—”

“SILENCE!” God roared. “Who do you think you are, spoiling my son in such disgusting ways? Do you know who I am?”

“An asshole,” Jesus said, staring at his father with a fiery look in his eyes.

God stared right back.

Jimmy wondered if Hell was about to rain down around them, God’s wrath absolute.

He was stunned when God began to laugh instead. His halo disappeared as he bent over, slapping his knee. He looked back at Satan and Jimmy. “Did you see the look on Derek’s face? Dude practically shit himself!”

Satan chuckled, the sound low as it crawled up his throat and out his mouth.

“Um,” Jimmy said. “What’s going on?”

God wiped his eyes. “Do you really think I didn’t know what was happening down here? You dumbasses. I’m God. I know everything.” He looked back at Jesus and Derek, a soft smile on his face. “Of course I knew about this. And while I’m not exactly thrilled with how fast this is happening, if this is what you want, kiddo, then of course I’ll support you. You’re my son. I only want the best for you.”

“What?” Jesus said. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” God said. “Look, Jesus. I know we haven’t had the best relationship, what with the whole crucifixion thing, but I love you more than anything in this world or any other. If this is what makes you happy, if Derek makes you happy, then you have my blessing without reservation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should’ve have been a better father to you and for that, I’m sorry. I promise that from this day forth, I will do my absolute best to make sure you know how much I love you. And I will respect the decisions you make because you’re right. You are your own person, and I will trust you to know what is best for you. Just…I’d like it if we could, I don’t know, maybe talk? A little more than we do? Maybe even consider going to therapy together so we can work some stuff out? I think it’d help the both of us. I can make an appointment with Peter if you want.”

Jesus gaped at him.

“I told him to say that,” Satan whispered. “How’d I do?”

“You did good, Daddy,” Jimmy whispered back, laying his head against Satan’s chest. “You did real good.”

“Are you serious?” Jesus asked, bottom lip wobbling. “You mean it?”

God nodded. “I do. You have the Word of God.” He glanced at Derek. “Both of you do. But I would be remiss if I didn’t say that Derek, if you harm one hair on my son’s head, I’ll banish you to Heaven where you’ll spend eternity surrounded by kittens and bubbles and good feelings.”

Derek shuddered. “Yes sir. Anything but that, sir.”

“Then come here!” God cried as he spread his arms wide. “Jesus, give your old man a hug. Derek, you get in here too. Come on, don’t be shy. Plenty to go around.”

Jesus launched himself from the porch, crashing into God, who spun him around in a circle. A moment later, God said, “That was an invitation for you too, Derek. Cohen men are huggers. Don’t leave me waiting.”

“God’s last name is Cohen?” Jimmy asked. “Oh. Right. Jewish. That makes sense.”

“Nothing about any of this makes sense,” Satan said as Derek gingerly stepped down off the porch, squeaking when God grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a hug with Jesus. He rocked them both back and forth, his face in Jesus’s hair. “But I’ve long stopped trying to convince myself otherwise.” He smiled down at Jimmy. “It led me to you, after all.”

“Me bless us everyone!” God cried as he rocked Derek and Jesus back and forth.

“I love you, Daddy,” Jimmy said.

“I love you too,” Satan said. “Now, about that offer of taking you to bed.”

“Yes, please,” Jimmy said, raising his arms so Satan picked him back up. He did, lips attaching to Jimmy’s neck and sucking. “I want you to fuck me so hard, people in Kentucky feel it and regret everything about their decisions. And then I’ll make it worse when I ask them where their god is now while you breed me.”

“Holy shit,” Satan breathed. “You’re so fucked up. I approve. Fuck Kentucky.”

“I’M ON FIRE!” Carl shrieked from somewhere inside the house.

All in all, a most wonderful day in Hell.

*****

Six days later, a parade was held down the central street of Hell. Most of the demons in attendance grumbled at the sight of God as the Grand Marshall with Derek and Jesus riding behind him on a float made up of colorful flowers and human skulls, though one look from Satan and they snapped their mouths closed.

Jimmy, not to be outdone, rode on his Daddy’s shoulders, his legs dangling down on Satan’s chest. He wore a crown fit for a Queen, a metal circle inlaid with rubies, two black onyx horns rising up on either side, mirroring Satan’s own horns. Satan had made it himself and had presented it to Jimmy just that morning. He promptly burst into tears before sucking Satan off with a ferocity that caused Satan to melt into a puddle.

Jimmy waved as streamers of intestines fell from the sky, landing with wet plops on the road. Something that looked like a liver (or perhaps a spleen, Jimmy wasn’t quite sure) bounced off God’s head, and everyone held their breath, sure he’d become angry at such an offense. Instead, God wiped the gore off his face and continued marching down the road, laughing and waving at the demons trying to get his attention.

Derek and Jesus were to be married next month in a ceremony that would see denizens of both Heaven and Hell in attendance. Jesus told Jimmy that Judas had tried to talk him out of it, but God had turned Judas into a golf ball, and used a nine-iron to knock him into Jupiter, where he’d stay for the next four hundred and twelve years as penance for his crimes against Christ. Jesus and God had also started going to therapy together, which had led to many tears and accusations flung like grenades, but they were working through it. God said he was determined to make things right with Jesus, no matter how long it took.

“Pretty soon, it’s going to be your turn,” Donna said as she marched next to Satan and Jimmy. She wore a necklace made up of ears and carried a pike with the head of the man who started the Q-Anon conspiracy attached to the top, his mouth opening and closing. His body was stored in a shed behind Donna’s house, waiting for his head to be returned. It would be a long wait, but Ted Cruz deserved no better than that.

“For what?” Satan asked as Jimmy tugged on his horns obscenely.

Donna snorted. “For what, he says. You know, for someone so powerful, you’re still pretty stupid. But that’s because you’re a man, I really do hate men.” She looked up at Jimmy and winked. “Most of them.”

“Just tell me, woman,” Satan growled.

“For you and Jimmy to get married,” Donna said. “I can’t believe you haven’t asked him yet. Are you really going to let Jesus and Derek beat you to the black altar? The Satan I know would never let the Son of God one up him.”

Jimmy almost fell off Satan when he came to a sudden stop. “What,” Satan said.

“Think about it!” Donna called over her shoulder as she continued on with the rest of the parade. The other demons marching with them gave them a wide berth as Satan stood in the middle of the road, gripping Jimmy’s shins tightly.

“Why’d we stop?” Jimmy demanded. “I want to see the Trumps in their cages! You promised. You said I could throw comically oversized dynamite at the sons.”

Satan took a deep breath as he looked up at Jimmy, who leaned down and smacked a kiss on his lips. “We’re like Spider-Man and Mary Jane! Ooh, you want me to shoot my webs all over you and then save you for later when I’ll suck out your insides with my proboscis—”

“You want to get married?” Satan asked.

Jimmy’s eyes filled. “Are you asking me or are you asking me?”

Satan huffed out a breath. “The first one. No. The…second…one?” He snarled. “Would you just marry me, you dork?”

“Yes!” Jimmy cried. He stood on Satan’s shoulders. “Catch me!” He did a front flip off Satan and landed in his big arms. Satan nuzzled the side of his head with his nose, lips scraping along Jimmy’s cheek. “Yes,” Jimmy whispered. “Hell yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Before Jesus and Derek,” Satan insisted.

“Before Jesus and Derek,” Jimmy agreed. “Or maybe even with them. A double wedding!”

Satan lifted Jimmy’s hand between them, rubbing Jimmy’s ring finger. Jimmy gasped at the flash of heat on his skin, and when he looked down, a heavy, black ring lined with diamonds sat on his finger. The diamonds caught the red light around them, sparkling brilliantly. “It’s perfect,” Jimmy said. He pressed his forehead against Satan’s. “Thank you, Daddy. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Satan smiled. “Me too, James David Davidson.” He kissed Jimmy on the tip of his nose. “Speaking of, I think you should take my last name, if that’s all right with you.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “For real? Oh Jesus’s Dad, how the fuck did I not know you had a last name? I thought you were like Cher or Socrates. Did you know they were born on the same day? Not in the same year, but isn’t that neat?”

“The neatest,” Satan said, lips quirking. “And my last name is Smith.”

Jimmy blinked. “Oh. Huh. Satan Smith. That’s…certainly the name you just gave me.”

Satan arched an eyebrow. “Something wrong with it?”

“No,” Jimmy said quickly. “It’s perfect. Jimmy David Smith. I like—okay, maybe not like, but I can definitely tolerate it.”

“Oh, gee, thanks.” Satan jostled him a little. “I’m messing with you, baby boy. My last name is actually Black Dragon of Death and Destruction Who Rules Over Hell with a Fiery Grip of Terror.” He shrugged. “God gave it to me when we decided I’d rule Hell.”

“Holy shit,” Jimmy breathed. “That is so much better. Yes, I will marry you, Satan Black Dragon of Something Something Something.”

Satan grinned. “We’ll work on it. Now, fuck this parade. Let’s go to the mini-golf course so I can split you in half like old times.”

Jimmy sighed happily. “And they say romance is dead and rotting in a pus-filled corpse. Shows what they know. Yes, Daddy. Fuck me next to a sad windmill with peeling paint where everything smells like 1977.”

They did exactly that.

And, of course, they lived happily ever after.

The End?

(No. Obviously. Don’t be ridiculous. Can you imagine the double wedding Satan and Jimmy and Derek and Jesus are probably going to have? And I bet Mary and Joseph will have something to say about it, after they die in their shit water and return to Heaven. Boy, that sure sounds like it’ll be full of zany misadventures! That being said, it’ll probably take me another two years to write a follow up because I’m super busy living my best life.

Also, I know this story will probably bring up some questions about the universe and what it all means, so let me answer those questions right now: yes, people who pirate my books (or any books aside from required textbooks for school because that shit is whack, yo) are absolutely going to Hell. And not the fun Hell as described in this story. No, they’ll go to the bad part of Hell with the Trumps because that’s what thieves deserve. Why, even now, there are people reading this who will continue to illegally download my books because they’re morally corrupt, selfish, and most likely suffer from egregious halitosis. You know who you are. Kiss kiss, and fuck you very much!

Love,

tj “sick of your shit book daddy” klune

---

Comments from the old website:

Anonymous
God sucks on Satan's cock and eats his asshole everyday of the year.

The Real Very Truth Of All
Why this would had been a much better world with no problems at all if God didn't suck cock and swallow like a filthy motherfucking bitch.

tjheresa alan
Hi everybody. I recently saw a testimony about Dr. Jumba in a blog I visit for relationship and dating counseling problems because i had been having serious issues with my boyfriend and we had been dating for six months, he just suddenly changed,he wasn't returning my calls,he started cheating,he was hurting me in many ways i never thought possible and I just thought I should try it*maybe out of desperation of some sort*..and I contacted Dr. Jumba..At first everything felt dreamy and unbelievable,his consultations and solution was a little bit easy and strange and I was scared a little coz I heard read and heard lots of stories of fake spell casters,scams and i never really believed in magic..I played along with a little hope and and faith and I sent some few stuffs after everything and it worked like a miracle,everything went to a whole new direction,it was and is amazing...I guess it was all good faith that made me read That particular post that fateful day..I hope he could help other people too like he did me...I did a little and I got everything I wanted and wished for*my husband,my family and my life back. E-mail: wiccalovespelltools@gmail.com  you can also text and call him  on + 19085174108 
website : https://drjumbaspellhome.wordpress.com/

Anonymous
Well it was real fact that Jesus was Gay, and was sucking cock and swallowing as well.

Anonymous
Satan made God his bitch.

Satan
Yay yay! This was Jimmy-squealing-level-good 😁

Becky
SQUEEEE!!!! This also is awesome. Thank you.
Now I need to go read The Lightning Struck Heart (properly purchased on my NOOK device because I'm not a book stealing asshole) for about the billionth time. Because I'm a total Sam girl.

Jake
claps I'm so glad I throw money at you every chance I get. Pirating movies? Fine. Pirating books (unless written by transphobic pieces of shit who think men can't be witches) ? I will end you. Books are precious and their artists (cause that's exactly what authors are: artists of the written word) deserve the munz. And the precious, precious few like TJ 'please send me to one of your universes when I die, book daddy' Klune? All the money. Every cent, every shilling, every pence (except Mike cause... Ew).

My brother and I plan on donating to the Trevor project as our prayer/payment to this wonderful series (which I so hope theres more. Monster fucker power bottoms, unite!). I love this series, I love the author, and I for one can't wait to have an entire library dedicated to the writings and musings of TJ. Creepy? A little. Awesome? You bet your demon-seed loving ass!

IA
If bad religious people are homophobic and mock queer people, should a queer be anti-religious and provoke religious people? Religious and queer people who insult each other are two sides of the same coin, and there is little difference between the one who is the first to insult and the other who returns it.

Most religious people are unimpressive, because most people (religious, irreligious, businessmen, soccer players) are unimpressive. Religion is not magic. Becoming a good human being requires effort. If someone has a bad experience with religious people, this should not make them bitter with religious people, if their goal is to be a good human being, that is. If the creativity of a writer happens to lead them to insult the most dear (God, Jesus etc.) to a lot of people, including a lot of their readers, they should reorient their creativity, if they are on a quest to become an empathetic human being, that is.

To religious people, I have to say this: If we believe that acting upon homosexual desires (not having them) is sinful, this in no way means that we should be mean to queer people. We believe premarital sex is a sin, but do we insult people who have had sex before marriage? Of course not. God orders Moses to be kind to the Pharaoh (Quran, 20:43-44), who is considered by Muslims, Christians and Jews one of the most evil people to ever live.

On a side note, I have to say something about piracy, for which the author expressed some thoughts in a recent post. I am a Muslim. To make a real effort to not take the wealth of someone else unjustly (and pirating is to take the wealth of someone else unjustly) is one of the most noble pursuits a Muslim can have.

"He has set the balance so that you may not exceed in the balance: weigh with justice and do not fall short in the balance." (Quran, 55:7-9)

"Do not consume your property wrongfully, nor use it to bribe judges, intending sinfully and knowingly to consume parts of other people’s property." (Quran, 2:188)

"Whoever has done an atom’s-weight of good will see it, but whoever has done an atom’s-weight of evil will see that." (Quran, 99:7-8)

People accuse us for doing good simply for fear of going to Hell, or in order to go to Heaven, instead of doing good for the sake of goodness itself. I have to say this: Even when you do good for the sake of goodness, you expect some reward; in this case, happiness itself. Even when someone puts himself through pain for no reason, they do this to feel happy that they are becoming tough. It is true that we do good hoping that we will got to Heaven, but at the same time we feel that we are doing good for the sake of goodness. The only difference is that, we are certain that this goodness has been created by God.

Seeing how piracy made you feel gives me even more resolve to be just towards you. I wish you all the best Mr. Tj.

(If someone has something to say to me, I will hopefully read the other messages, but I will not respond, so any other message with this name, is not me.)

Shion en internet
I believe in Jesus, but I am not a religious person and I take it with humor. I will devour this sequel.
Thank you, TJ. I love your books.

hey.its.gee
Dear TJ Klune:

How are you? I hope you are having a good day. I am writing this because I am the person who commented on your post about “Blasphemy! 2” a few days ago, and I have been thinking about it ever since.

First off, I wanted to apologize, because I think that my message was uncalled for. It was not even necessary, and I do acknowledge that whatever the hell I was thinking in that moment was no justification for posting something that criticised a story I had not even read yet. When I was looking for a way to contact you on the purpose of sending you this apology, I came across a Tweet in which my comment was (without revealing my identity, of course) displayed. While scrolling through the answers, I found this:

“thanks for saying so! I'm not bummed by this, even with the weird implication that I'm like terrorists. Whats funny is the story is actually extremely kind to Jesus because Jimmy thinks he needs it. To each their own!”

Which I believe was an answer you wrote. What I want to make extremely clear is that I NEVER, EVER meant to compare your story to the comic stripes that caused the Charlie Hébdo tragedy. Nor did I want to compare you to terrorists of any sort. Upon reading tweet, I realised how horrendously wrong that comparison was, and I could not just try to “get over this” without at least making sure that I apologize for the way my comment was received and interpreted. Obviously I cannot go back in time to kick my past self in her arse and uninstall her Instagram app until her latest breakdown is over, so instead I am writing to you in the hopes that you will read this. While I cannot in any way control whether you or anyone will believe my words, I still want to try to make ammends. Again, my most sincere apologies. I never wanted you to feel like I was calling you a terrorist of any sort, and even if you say that you were not bummed by my words, I was.

There was also a person who said this:

Sure its blasphemous-its in the title duh! But you’ve focused on what’s really important- humor, love, and living out loud- instead of the shame, fear, judgment that so many christians peddle.

That opened my eyes even further. Again, I am not trying to justify my words. In fact, this person made me question why they ever crossed my mind, to begin with. I am not religious, and I do not even like the Church. So why did I feel the need to jump in? Although I still have not found an answer that fully satisfies me, I think it has to do with the shame, fear and judgment, indeed. After all, I did read “Blasphemy!” when it was posted, and even passed it on to some friends. Why had “Blasphemy! 2” been so triggering? To this day, I still do not know.

What I do know is this: I made a mistake. Big one. I said something that was not only unappropriate, but also open to very dangerous misinterpretations such as the one that unfortunately ended up happening. And I do not want to just “get over it”, because I want to do better. So I, again, offer you my most sincere apologies. You are actually one of my favourite authors, and it was thanks to “Heartsong”, and to Kelly Bennett, that after 20 years of feeling lost I found a name for what I am. After knowing the pains of not having any rep to guide me, I do not understand how, whatever my emotions were in that moment, I could write something as rude.

Although I would understand it if you decided not to answer, unblock me, or even take this apology seriously beyond material for a good laugh, I still wanted to reach out to say I am sorry.

My sincerest apologies,
Gee

Dharma
This is even better than the first part, thank you so much for writing this. I confess the first time I read one of your books was a shitty spanish traduction in a pirate website. But men, since I learned english I have done my best to buy what you write.