You know, I hear you humans all the time talking about how your day was hell. As if there is one kind of day in Hell. Let me tell you, everyday here is a mixed bag of nefarious evil-doings, most of them completely out of my control.
For instance, this morning I got an email from one of my assistant manager demons over in the 5th Circle, Phlegyas. Apparently someone in the industrial sector had been leaking floral waste products into the river Styx, and it is starting to smell less like the waters of oblivion and more like a damned English garden.
Then I got a phone call from Inhuman Resources, who were kind enough to inform me of yet another sexual harassment suit from a Succubus. I guess you can’t even tell a soul-devouring nympho-demon that her eyes are an endless abyss of evil without being accused of trying to come on to them.
And now, just as I am getting ready to sign the deed on a new memorial in honor of Dick Cheney, in preparation for his imminent arrival, the Department of Graven Images insists on last minute changes to the design. The delay is going to raise the budget on the project by 10%, and I just don’t have the extra to spend. So now, instead of a statue at The Black House, there is just going to be a neon sign with his cartoon likeness in the MVP museum. Sorry about that, Dick. Should have donated.
So yeah, when you say your day has been hell, you have no idea what you are talking about. This was the best day I have had in 8 years, but I still wanna drown myself in the Styx. But not if it smells like flowers.