4A series a friend of mine in Ireland and I started. I asked him if I could use his name for a story I had to do for class, he said yes, and somehow it sprouted into an entire series. Several, in fact. I write and he supplies the ideas. So far we have the Satan vs. Tristan series, a Miriam vs. Satan (or his daughter), the adventures of Tristan and Miriam in Heaven after Hell kicks them out, and then a fanfiction series after we've gotten the rest posted/published. We have high hopes, but even though we've completely planned out the first series and all the main characters needed for the others, I can't get them written very quickly.
But anyway, here is the first in a series of seven (yes, seven, not 666. Are you nuts? I can't write that much) stories in the Satan vs. Tristan series. Some may or may not have chapters, like Satan's Birthday Party. Be sure to read all seven once they're up, OK? Now, without further ado, here's Christmas in Hell!
Author's Note: Tristan is not my character, he's his own. I am using him with permission… Wait a second, I'm the one who made the series. I just put my friend in there. Do I own him, then? Never mind. I'll just say he's mine and Tristan and I can sort that out later.
Christmas in Hell
Satan groaned as he faced Hell's newest arrival across his desk. He hated people like these...the nut jobs new to Hell who asked him every year, without fail, if they could have a Christmas party. And every year, without fail, he told them no.
"Let me get this straight, kid...you want me to host a party that represents all that I stand against?"
The teenaged boy nodded eagerly. "That's right."
"And do you remember why you were sent down here?" Satan asked, rubbing his temples.
He was getting a headache already...with only two weeks until the 25th, which was a record. Then again, everyone else had learned long ago about what pushed his buttons. Christmas was one of them. So, to avoid an extra-long session in the boilers, nobody ever mentioned the holiday in his presence.
The teenager, Tristan by name, according to his secretary, interrupted his thought process. "Of course I remember why I'm down here. I blasphemed, and then I got killed later over a religious issue. I said God and you didn't exist. Looks like I was wrong," he laughed.
"You got that right," Satan said without humor. "And if you seriously thought I was going to go along with your stupid party, you've got another think coming."
"Oh, really?" Tristan had a very strange look on his face. In fact, the teenager looked more than strange...he looked completely insane.
"If you're thinking about usurping me or something-"
Tristan laughed. "No. But," he said with a gleam in his eye, "you will be hosting that party."
Satan chuckled. "Fat chance, kid." He now addressed his bodyguards (not that he needed them, but they looked cool). "Take him away. He gets two and a half weeks in the Furnace." He said this with a capital 'F'.
"What?" Tristan shouted. "That means I'll miss Christmas!" The rest of his sentence was lost in expletives unsafe to print in any form. He was dragged off. Satan sighed in relief.
"Well, at least that's over. Next!" And with the other problems that were soon brought to him, Tristan was soon forgotten. Until Friday, that is, with three days to go until Christmas.
"Sir!" A junior demon, Jantick by name, charged into Satan's office. "The Furnace...it's going haywire!"
"What?" Satan roared. "Do we have anyone in there?"
"Just one soul. A teenager called Tristan. We've sent in rescue crews, but they couldn't find him. The strange thing is" the demon cleared his throat nervously "the scanner says he's in there. It's like he's invisible or something."
Now he remembered. "That's this year's Christmas nut, correct?" The demon nodded. "Leave him."
"Wh-what? Why?" Jantick spluttered.
"Because I am the Devil, and what I say goes! Understand?!"
Jantick snapped a hasty salute. "Yes, sir!" He left.
"Now what will you do, young man? Will your Christmas spirit save you now?" Satan snickered unpleasantly.
The door banged open, startling Him. "It just did," Tristan announced. He was soot-smudged, but a triumphant grin lit his face.
"How did you get out?" Satan asked, a vein throbbing on his temple. He was trying very hard to stay calm.
"I just told you…Christmas spirit. I convinced the guys to sabotage the Furnace and tell you that cock-and-bull story about not being able to find me. By now, most, if not all, of your demon workers will be on strike demanding their party."
Satan cursed softly. "You certainly have a sharp mind," he said in admiration, "but" and his voice shook with anger "I will not host a party even if Hell itself freezes over!"
Tristan patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Calm down, sir, you'll give yourself a nervous breakdown."
"It's you who's going to give me a nervous breakdown!"
"Sir, just relax. If anything, a party will cheer you up; reduce your stress and all that."
"I hate you." He was suddenly very tired. Tired of arguing with this infuriating young man over something as insignificant as one little party, tired of fighting it off year after year.
"Will you be all right, Satan, sir?"
"Yes. Why are you being so polite all of a sudden?"
"Because," Tristan slapped him heartily on the back. "It's Christmas!"
Satan groaned. "Wonderful. That makes me feel so much better."
"I'm glad it does."
Satan buried his head in his hands. How long did he have to put up with this kid again? He didn't even want to think about it. It was just too terrifying.
The End
Heh heh heh… What did you think? Is it worth coming back for? Is it too blasphemous for you? Do you want to read the others? Then go ahead and enjoy!
Whoa, whoa, hold your horses! Before you rush off, leave a review! I'm not just going to be left hanging, wondering what you think. Let me know! I'd really appreciate it!