“Aren’t you a handsome devil,” Bip winks at himself in the mirror. His new trident sparkles in the background. What a beaut. 100% natural blood diamond. Entirely out of his price range but dress for the job you want, right?
Sixteen minutes and a pumpkin-spice latte later, Bip struts into chaos.
“Barbara,” he grabs a frantic demon. “What happened?”
“The humans triggered the apocalypse. They’re all dead. Where have you been? We need soul rakers ASAP.”
Bip sighs. No rest for the weary and no thanks for the fire imps. Just another day at TorturesRUs. Maybe Damnation Station was hiring.
..............................................................................................................................................
Originally submitted to the 100-word NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 2021, Round 1
Comments