Chapter 4: Hell in a Handbasket

Chapter 4: Hell in a Handbasket

In the days that followed Bael felt like something was amiss but couldn’t put a talon on exactly what. So instead of trying to find it he threw himself into his work, wrote memos like a man possessed (if that man was possessed by an unhappy member of middle management) and at the end of the day he would collapse into his chair with his tea and a book.

Maybe I should join a gym, or some kind of exercise club. Bael thought as he absentmindedly pinched a layer of fat where his stomach creased whenever he slouched in his recliner. Or maybe I should find a job that keeps me more active. He mused.

Bael was realizing that he had gradually then suddenly fallen out of shape and was going to really have to work at it if he wanted to get back how he looked before he took a desk job. He could have gotten up right that moment and started doing pushups or gone through the ten stances of the infernal pole-arm with his trusty halberd. Instead he closed his eyes, sank back into the well used padding of his recliner, and fell asleep.

Or he would have if just as he was drifting off a dull chant hadn’t started to rise. Bael scrunched his eyes closed and flipped over to bury his face in the upholstery. Maybe if I ignore her she’ll go away. He thought. Unfortunately for him that just wasn’t the case.

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Sometime later Bael was following Six down the aisles of a local supermarket with an overflowing cart that seemed to be fighting his efforts to drive it in a straight line, and winning. From what he knew of human nature he suspected that the vastly inefficient design of the cart had to be intentional. There was no other explanation for the way the shining chrome beast seemed to lurch for the nearest shelf or display with lethal accuracy.

Bael stopped his death march down the frozen food section to take a break. “Tell me child, why exactly did I agree to accompany you on this trip?” He asked rhetorically.

Six tossed her third carton of ice cream into the cart and shrugged. “I don’t know, why don’t we ask my foster dad Mike about that? Oh wait, we can’t because you turned him into a statue.”

“Fair point.” Bael conceded. “But surely you must have some other relative that could be called upon to render aid.”

“Nope, you’re it Bael. Now reach up there and grab me those chicken fingers, no... not those, the ones in the green box. Those are the good ones.”

Unsure as to exactly what a chicken finger was or what exactly constituted a “good one” Bael followed her directions. Apparently a child of Six’s age (which she swore was only nine, but that Bael suspected was far closer to thirty. If she wasn’t four feet tall and still in trainers he would have wondered if he was being taken for a ride) purchasing groceries would arouse the suspicion of the local authorities. Something that neither of them wanted at that particular moment. His only hope was that this all would be over quickly and that he would at least be able to get a few good hours of sleep before work tomorrow.

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When they got back to the house Bael attempted to pack the groceries into the freezer but no matter how hard he tried there just didn’t seem to be enough room.

“Six.” Bael said, still annoyed from his experience with the credit card reader back at the grocery store. “You bought too much frozen stuff. We’re going to have to find some other place to put the ice cream.”

“Oh darn.” Six said as she reached into the drawer and grabbed the biggest spoon she could find. “How terrible.”

The demon and the little girl sat on the couch watching something called “Scooby Doo” which Six assured Bael was magical, but not as magical as the Princess Bride. He wasn’t sure he understood the plot but Six seemed to be enjoying herself. He definitely liked the ice cream even though the first time he tried it he ended up with a piercing headache. Six assured him that was a perfectly normal part of the ice cream experience, but that perhaps he should slow down a bit.

Once the cartoon was over Six handed him the remote and asked him what he wanted to watch.

“Dunno.” Bael said. “I’ve never watched television before. We don’t really have TV’s in hell. Not ones that work anyways.”

“Well, what kind of stories do you like?”

Bael thought about it as he wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. “I always liked reading stories of people who went places and did things. I don’t ever really go places unless someone summons me.”

“You like adventure. We call those adventure movies.” Six said. “Hand me the remote, I think I know one that you’ll really like.”

So Bael gave her the remote and that was that. They sat together watching Raiders of the Lost Ark and eating ice cream until it was time for him to go. He had to admit it wasn’t a half bad way to spend an evening.