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Working Hell to Five

Sometimes, working for a corporate office can be hell

By KatPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
2

There were a couple of perks when it came to working for the Corporate Headquarters of Hell, in Dio’s opinion. First being, it was always extremely warm inside of the office building. No matter what the weather may be like outside, inside of the office was always heated to a cozy 80 degrees Fahrenheit. This was extremely to Dio’s liking, as his favorite feature about himself was undoubtedly his legs, and 80 degrees was the perfect temperature for wearing shorts. Secondly, (some other demons might have this listed as a negative), was that Dolly Parton’s hit song “9-5” constantly played on repeat in the background over the corporate intercom. Personally, Dio found it extremely invigorating to listen about “climbing the corporate ladder” and “fighting the man” while slowly plunking away at his emails. It was during Dolly’s refrain of “I swear sometimes that man is out to get me” one morning that Dio received an email from his upper manager, Belphagor, marked URGENT: JOB PENDING. Seeing as the last time he had checked, Dio did have a job and it was with the Plague Division (under the Chaos Branch of Hell), he found the title of the email to be extremely unnerving.

A little while later, after having self-soothed his anxiety with a dozen or so donuts, Dio stood outside of his manager’s office door and knocked, causing the door to swing open. The red demon cleared his throat nervously. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Dio asked, sticking his horned head into the office. Unfortunately, as he did so, one of his horns hooked perfectly through the decorative wreath of plastic skulls hanging above the door frame. It looped in little circles before coming to rest awkwardly on his head, like a macabre halo. Dio didn’t seem to notice.

“Ah yes, Dio.” Dio’s manager, Belphagor, was a balding demon with only a small donut of black hair left on his knobby, gray head. He was excessively greasy looking, from his shiny head to the fake, oily smile plastered onto his face. “Sit down.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk with a clawed hand.

As Dio maneuvered his large frame into the office, his wing accidentally clipped the nameplate on his boss’s desk with the words Belphagor-Senior Chaotic Branch Manager written on it in swooping, proud letters. “Never mind that” Belphagor snapped, waving his hands. He quickly moved one hand to straighten his name plate while using the other to shield the other valuables on his desk from the sudden onslaught of wings. He narrowed his eyes scornfully as he watched Dio attempt to stuff his wide frame into the undersized office chair sitting in front of his desk. The chair squeaked loudly in protest, Belphagor smirked.

“Right. As you know, Dio, we’ve been working on downsizing your branch for quite some time now.” Dio in fact did not know this, but in an attempt to not seem rude or out of the loop, put on what he hoped was a knowing smile. Belphagor, taking this as a sign that Dio agreed with him, continued. “What with the world going the way it is-modern science and all of that-it just doesn’t make sense to keep the Plague Division as fully staffed as it currently is.”

“What are you saying, sir? Are you firing me?” Dio shifted in his chair, causing it to let out another groan.

“Don’t think of it like that.” Belphagor waved dismissively. “Think of this as a chance at a new start, a change after so many centuries of working in the same division. That’s pretty exciting, huh? A new start?” Belphagor leaned back in his chair, hooking one arm behind his head and taking a sip of tea from his Helluva Boss mug he claimed an employee gave to him as a gift.

“No sir, I don’t think it is. I’ve done great work for this division. You know I had a large hand in starting the Bubonic Plague, spreading diseases via animal was solely my idea…” Dio trailed off and clasped his hands together on his lap to keep himself from picking at his khaki shorts. He should have worn the ones with the pink flowers on them; they never failed to make a good impression.

“Look Dio,” Belphagor had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “We want to go a different direction when it comes to the Plague Division of Hell. To be honest, plagues just aren’t cutting it anymore. They don’t hit as hard as they used to, they don’t have that “wow” factor that we’re looking for. We need fresh ideas, something that will impress the higher ups. They’re tired of the same infected animal routine. The future is in the Artificial Intelligence Division, everyone knows that.” With that, Belphagor put his mug down on his desk and sat up straight. “I need you to collect your things and be out of your office by lunch today”.

Dio shuffled his wings in surprise and looked like he was about to protest. Unfortunately, his sudden movement caused his chair to let out a final squeak before breaking, effectively cutting off his complaint and sending him thumping to the floor.

“And Dio?” Belphagor looked down at him from behind his desk. “Don’t forget to hang my wreath back up on your way out. It’s still on your head.”

Dio cast a sad last look around his office cubicle and then down at the severance “check” (a post-it note with the words “I owe you money, <3 Belphagor” on it) which had been awkwardly given to him by Belphagor’s secretary on his way out. Dio looked down at the small cardboard box in his hand, wondering how he would ever manage to fit the vintage bobblehead collection he’d amassed over the past couple of centuries into such a tiny box. His collection, both large and uncommon, boasted rare finds such as I Love Lucy-fer, The Devil Wears Prada, and Hell’s Kitchen - an homage to Gordon Ramsey (Lucifer was dressed in a chef’s hat and apron, stoically holding a whisk).This was a personal favorite of Dio’s and was frequently admired by many a passerby.

As he started scraping some of the smaller items off of his desk into the box - his nameplate, pitchfork shaped post-it notes, an old letter marked URGENT- his claw snagged on a pile of manila folders, bringing the entire stack falling to the floor. “Crap”.

He managed to stuff most of the folders into his tiny trashcan, kicking what was left under his cubicle wall into the adjoining office. “Hey!” Dio heard someone complain, but his attention had been drawn elsewhere by something he hadn’t seen in quite a long time.

On his desk sat an old, abused, black notebook with the words “Dio’s Ideas for the End of the World” handwritten in slanted, hopeful letters. It must have been hidden over the years by the mountain of paperwork and folders forever growing on his desk, buried and forgotten. Nostalgia went through Dio as he picked it up and thumbed open the pages, remembering the spark of joy he had felt when he’d first accepted the position with the Plague Division. He’d spent his first couple years on the job happily filling his book with ideas -both revolutionary and imaginative- in which diseases (and if he was lucky, eventual plagues) could possibly be spread. Back then, coming up with ideas had been a much simpler and easier process to execute, and getting the go ahead to implement an idea had happened much more frequently. Modern medicine hadn’t existed then; hygiene barely an afterthought. It was an era often referred to around the office in a hushed, reverent tone as The Golden Age.

While some of the ideas Dio quickly flipped past were rather rudimentary, some seemed like they could have had real promise if he had only been given the chance to get them off the ground. He sighed as he reflected on his tragically lost potential, but paused when something caught his eye. A badly drawn bat had been roughly sketched into the corner of the notebook page; however, his questionable art skills were not what had caught his attention. In the center of the page the formula for what could be a new and devastating disease had been almost fully outlined. The words “Pandemic?” were circled in red pen.

“This could actually work…” Dio muttered to himself, astonished, as he poured over the details. And what would happen if it did work? He got giddy at the concept. It would be complete and utter chaos. Dio’s eyes lit up at that thought and a malicious smile spread across his face, exposing his fangs. For the first time in a long, long while, Dio looked like an actual demon. A demon wearing khaki shorts and flannel, but a demon nonetheless.

****

“I DON’T CARE THAT YOU DON’T KNOW WHO DID IT, FIGURE IT OUT!” screamed Belphagor into his phone. It had been a rough and surprisingly busy morning for poor Belphagor, filled with constant emails and phone calls from his supervisors, demanding to know where this new pandemic had popped up from and who had green lighted it in the first place. He cast a depressed look over to his Helluva Boss mug, holding tea that had long ago gone cold. The mug was slightly turned so that only the words Hell were visible to him, and he had to say he agreed. Belphagor rubbed his eyes, mulling over his predicament. Apparently, some demon unknown had managed to push through an unapproved, unsanctioned disease and it had actually worked - astonishingly well, actually. The soon-to-be pandemic had apparently been quietly brewing and spreading for the past couple of months, escaping notice until recently.

“But who could have done it?” Belphagor muttered to himself as he chomped down on his third strudel. “Who would of even had the insight to come up with such a specifically spread disease? It was spread by a BAT for goodness….” Belphagor froze. Only one employee came to mind when it came to such methods of disease spreading. But it couldn’t be… He had personally fired Dio months ago. He wouldn’t have DARED undermine him like that, there’s no way….. Pacing back and forth in his office, Belphagor finally picked up the phone and made a call to his ex-employee.

News that an ex-employee, without any approval, had launched one of the greatest pandemics that Hell had seen in a long time, spread like wildfire. Dio became a bit of a celebrity around the corporate office. Higher ups commended Dio for his resourcefulness, fellow employees were wowed by his boldness, and Belphagor…Belphagor was pissed. Questions about why he had even fired Dio in the first place were asked and constant speculations were thrown about wildly (one being that he was jealous of Dio’s bobblehead collection. This one actually proved to be true). This inevitably led to the end of Belphagor’s millennia long career as the Senior Chaotic Branch Manager of Hell. In a span of just a few days, Dio had not only replaced his former boss, but had also been gifted a lofty $20,000 bonus as retribution and the opportunity to personally fire Belphagor, a task which had been extremely pleasurable for Dio (he had even broken out his pink, flowered shorts for the occasion).

With a contented sigh, Dio reclined in his new chair, in his new office, at his new position. He straightened his new nameplate which read “Dio-Senior Chaotic Branch Manager”, which sat on top of his new desk. Only one problem left remained…how best to spend his newly accrued bonus. His eyes sparkled as he glanced down at his subscription of Bobblehead Monthly which featured a highly coveted Highway to Hell bobblehead on its front page, valued at a whopping $10,000. Would he dare? His bobblehead collection nodded.

satire
2

About the Creator

Kat

I love to read, I love to write.

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