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halfshellvenusDiabolical Deeds
Idol Wheel of Chaos | Week 6 | 1900 words
Reimagine another contestant's entry (I choserayaso's marvelous The Man Of the People)
x-x-x-x-x
Nebuloso Sinistro leafed through a dozen newspapers as he rode the Hellevator up from his residential level to the Administrative Floor. There was always so much research required to prepare for the day ahead, and it was already nine o'clock in Rome.
The doors opened, and Nebuloso got off, walking toward the office entrance. As he clocked in for the morning, he spotted a familiar figure who was just leaving: Nicolaus Abaddon, otherwise known as Demon 7.
"Nicolaus," he growled, his voice like the gnashing of gears. "Good hunting today?"
"Oh, yes. Another malignant moron with political ambitions."
"That must be the third one this month," Nebuloso said.
"The well never runs dry. They refuse to learn."
Nebuloso nodded. For himself, he was happy not to be in the position of worrying about making the Soul Quota every month, but Nicolaus always made it look easy.
"I don't suppose there's any chance maintenance came by yesterday to address the plumbing?" Nicolaus asked.
Nebuloso and Nicolaus lived on the same floor, even though Nebuloso was Demon 251. The living quarters were organized by first-name alphabetization, for optimum insidiousness. Nebuloso's next-door neighbor was Nefario Bombastico, who was extremely loud and annoying, and Nebuloso had considered submitting paperwork to rename himself more than once. Something in the Ds, perhaps.
"No change, I'm afraid," Nebuloso said. Services in Hell were not known for their follow-through.
Nicolaus just shook his head and left. Nebuloso went to the break room to collect a cup of infernal swill before settling in at his desk.
There was the usual question of whom to target. Doddering uncles and grandparents were typical favorites, but everyone expected them to be confused. They didn't have the kind of impact that came with afflicting celebrities, CEOs, politicians, and world leaders. When a president ranted about sharks and boat batteries, or a television actress touted the benefits of coffee enemas, Nebuloso was the demon of the hour.
Nebuloso specialized in confusion. He clouded people's heads over facts and science, or caused them to lose memories or their sense of direction. Facts were best. It was always entertaining getting someone lost, but there were rarely points for it anymore (apart from the bonus he'd received for Columbus). Getting people to mangle cause and effect was good, while triggering random fabrications from thin air was even better. The four humors of the body! Jewish space lasers and humans controlling the weather! It was all in a day's work for Nebuloso.
He wasn't sure yet whether his job had gotten harder or easier in the computer age. People could check facts more easily now, but false statements and bizarre diatribes also disseminated faster. Satellite navigation had certainly changed things. Nebuloso used to be in charge of the Bermuda Triangle a few centuries ago, until he overslept one morning and let several ships pass through unhindered. He'd had to oversee the Lake of Fire for a hundred years as punishment–a disaster, as the Age of Enlightenment had sprung up behind his back.
There were scouting reports on his desk listing people who'd been found to have evil in their hearts, making them prime candidates for tormenting. Nebuloso jotted them down in his notepad, and set off for Custom Transport to visit his first destination.
In Lithuania, Nebuloso brushed his hand against a cutthroat businessman and graced him with one of the stupidest ideas in decades. In Venezuela, he left an up-and-coming statesman with perpetual confusion.
And in Silicon Valley, he ran into Hubrisia Maxima. Hubrisia (also known as Demon 14) was after the same target, a mouthy Tech Bro who'd been luckier than smart and still didn't know the difference.
"Nebuloso!" Hubrisia said. "Nice to see you again."
"You too," Nebuloso said, who was always surprised when Hubrisia recognized him. Nebuloso was not a sharp dresser, like Nicolaus. He tended to wear vague, forgettable clothes, usually in shades of beige or gray. Hubrisia, on the other hand, was something else. She dressed with style and confidence, looking like the sort of person women wanted to be and men thought they deserved.
"How's work going?" Hubrisia asked.
"Busy," Nebuloso said. "There's always so much to do. And the paperwork!"
"That's why I love my job," Hubrisia said. "My victims usually can't help preening and boasting, so most of them are self reporting. I hardly ever have to fill out any forms."
Nebuloso had to file four or five reports per affliction. He remembered the old days, before the Hellocracy got so big. There were multitudes more humans now, and more and more clerks and managers were needed to handle the corresponding increase in demons and paperwork.
He moved closer to his current victim, brushing his shoulder in passing and filling his head with conspiracy theories about UFOs and alien invasions. Then Hubrisia gave the man a smile that transmitted an inflated sense of self-importance, which would convince him he couldn't be wrong about any of it.
"Would you like to get some coffee, or go to a cafe?" Nebuloso asked Hubrisia afterward. He knew the destination would be tempting, if not the company. The Hell cafeteria only offered things like charred chicken and poi milkshakes. Any decent food had to be found on the job.
"Yes, I'd love to," Hubrisia said.
They found a corner bakery, where the two of them ordered lattes and croissants.
"This is much better than infernal swill and pastry pucks," Hubrisia said.
"I usually make my own breakfast," Nebuloso said, "and then find lunch or dinner while I'm out. I haven't had to eat fish logs or boiled meat chunks in ages."
"I do love a good chum-nugget, though," Hubrisia said.
Nebuloso blinked. To each her own, I suppose. "What's next for you?" he asked.
"Oh, I have a ridiculous Hollywood actor waiting for me. He thinks he's all that. And he might have been, before he became kind of nutso. Wait a minute–did you have something to do with that?"
"I might have," Nebuloso admitted. "Though most actors don't need my help." He bit into his croissant, then added, "Half the time, the people I select are already pretty far gone. But I always wonder why the more extreme ones I’ve touched aren’t rejected more often. I would think other people would get tired of the craziness, or at least draw the line somewhere."
"Don't I know it," Hubrisia said. "Between the two of us, we've unleashed a significant number of loud-mouthed fools upon the world. You'd think they'd be cancelled, but so many of them have followers instead. It's mystifying."
"I suppose it comes down to most humans just not being very bright," Nebuloso said. "Do you remember the ones that thought bathing brought about sickness?"
"Oh, yes. They smelled worse than The Pit!"
"I suppose they'll get their due after they die. Some will find out that they're no more special than anyone else, and others will find out they were always a great deal worse."
"Yes, and do I wonder how much we overlap Nicolaus and the other Soul Catchers," Hubrisia said.
"I used to run into them occasionally while I was out on a job, but it's been centuries now."
Hubrisia nodded. "Some bean-counter in Records probably knows." She finished her coffee and set down the cup. "Well, this has been fun, but I've got a trad-wife influencer in Florida to get to."
"Of course, nice chatting with you," Nebuloso said.
He finished the day with stops for an up-and-coming dictator in Africa and a fringe scientist in Sweden. Then he returned to the office to start doing paperwork.
His manager came by. "Demon 251, we need to talk about your conversion rate."
"My what?" Nebuloso asked.
"The ratio of affliction to damnation. Your numbers are low."
Nebuloso frowned. He wanted to ask when that policy had gone into effect, but one never questioned managers. "I… was under the impression that the evil in their hearts indicated the likelihood of damnation."
"Yes, but you have to be more efficient. No more repeat visits–we've noticed a trend there. And there is a half-hour limit for meal breaks, which you regularly exceed."
Oh, no, Nebuloso thought. Any type of sit-down service took at least an hour. Was he to be relegated to deli counters and fast-food restaurants? Or worse–the cafeteria?
"And I want all of the daily reporting forms on my desk the next morning. Understood?"
"Yes, your Evilness," Nebuloso said meekly.
His earlier conversation with Hubrisia and any lingering opportunities it suggested were now distant memories. Nebuloso filled out form after form until he could scarcely keep his eyes open. Placing the last of the reports on his manager's desk, he clocked out and rode the Hellevator back down to his apartment.
Tired but starving, he stood in front of the stove poking a skillet of eggs with the stick he was permitted to use as a cooking utensil. Work would be different, starting the next morning. Too bad, he thought. I was really looking forward to visiting that narcissistic buffoon again and seeing if I could make him implode…
He wondered who'd been cross-checking his results and found them wanting. What sort of metrics were attached to conversion rates? Was there a Soul Quota waiting in his future? And how trustworthy were those Evilness Index reports he relied on every day?
Finally, Nebuloso went to bed and set an early alarm to allow more time for research the next morning.
He was awakened by thumps and screeches just moments after falling asleep. It sounded like a Hell Hound on a rampage, or a torture session with the Chorus of the Damned.
But then he realized the sound was coming from next door. Nefario was having one of his obnoxious parties again. Ugh… Now the entire floor would be awake for the rest of the night. It was the last thing Nebuloso needed.
He tried wrapping his head with bats from his apartment's ceiling, but he couldn't shut out the noise. After a few hours, he got up and started filling out the paperwork he'd gathered decades ago but never gotten around to submitting. He'd put up with having Nefario as a neighbor for centuries now, but this, at last, was the final straw.
Nebuloso had done his research on neighborhoods many times over, and he'd already made his decision. The next morning, he gathered up all the necessary forms, and went to the Department of Records.
The desk demon was a particularly warty-looking individual, who made a sound like a rusty chain saw as Nebuloso approached.
"What," the demon said.
Nebuloso laid his paperwork on the counter, and wished for luck.
"I'd like to change my name to Obscurio."
The demon snickered. "Dumb," he said. But he entered the forms in the system (one slow letter at a time), and gave Nebuloso a voucher for living quarters on the "O" floor.
Finally, something to look forward to, Nebuloso thought. He could switch his name over at the end of the day, and move to the new apartment after work.
He pocketed his voucher and left the service window, his mind already on the day's work ahead. Someone bumped into him.
"I beg your pardon! Oh, Nefario. What are you doing here?"
Nefario jabbed Nebuloso with his elbow and grinned like a gargoyle.
"I'm changing my name to Obliterato!"
–/–
If you enjoyed this story, please vote for it along with any of your other favorites here.
Idol Wheel of Chaos | Week 6 | 1900 words
Reimagine another contestant's entry (I chose
rayaso's marvelous The Man Of the People)x-x-x-x-x
Nebuloso Sinistro leafed through a dozen newspapers as he rode the Hellevator up from his residential level to the Administrative Floor. There was always so much research required to prepare for the day ahead, and it was already nine o'clock in Rome.
The doors opened, and Nebuloso got off, walking toward the office entrance. As he clocked in for the morning, he spotted a familiar figure who was just leaving: Nicolaus Abaddon, otherwise known as Demon 7.
"Nicolaus," he growled, his voice like the gnashing of gears. "Good hunting today?"
"Oh, yes. Another malignant moron with political ambitions."
"That must be the third one this month," Nebuloso said.
"The well never runs dry. They refuse to learn."
Nebuloso nodded. For himself, he was happy not to be in the position of worrying about making the Soul Quota every month, but Nicolaus always made it look easy.
"I don't suppose there's any chance maintenance came by yesterday to address the plumbing?" Nicolaus asked.
Nebuloso and Nicolaus lived on the same floor, even though Nebuloso was Demon 251. The living quarters were organized by first-name alphabetization, for optimum insidiousness. Nebuloso's next-door neighbor was Nefario Bombastico, who was extremely loud and annoying, and Nebuloso had considered submitting paperwork to rename himself more than once. Something in the Ds, perhaps.
"No change, I'm afraid," Nebuloso said. Services in Hell were not known for their follow-through.
Nicolaus just shook his head and left. Nebuloso went to the break room to collect a cup of infernal swill before settling in at his desk.
There was the usual question of whom to target. Doddering uncles and grandparents were typical favorites, but everyone expected them to be confused. They didn't have the kind of impact that came with afflicting celebrities, CEOs, politicians, and world leaders. When a president ranted about sharks and boat batteries, or a television actress touted the benefits of coffee enemas, Nebuloso was the demon of the hour.
Nebuloso specialized in confusion. He clouded people's heads over facts and science, or caused them to lose memories or their sense of direction. Facts were best. It was always entertaining getting someone lost, but there were rarely points for it anymore (apart from the bonus he'd received for Columbus). Getting people to mangle cause and effect was good, while triggering random fabrications from thin air was even better. The four humors of the body! Jewish space lasers and humans controlling the weather! It was all in a day's work for Nebuloso.
He wasn't sure yet whether his job had gotten harder or easier in the computer age. People could check facts more easily now, but false statements and bizarre diatribes also disseminated faster. Satellite navigation had certainly changed things. Nebuloso used to be in charge of the Bermuda Triangle a few centuries ago, until he overslept one morning and let several ships pass through unhindered. He'd had to oversee the Lake of Fire for a hundred years as punishment–a disaster, as the Age of Enlightenment had sprung up behind his back.
There were scouting reports on his desk listing people who'd been found to have evil in their hearts, making them prime candidates for tormenting. Nebuloso jotted them down in his notepad, and set off for Custom Transport to visit his first destination.
In Lithuania, Nebuloso brushed his hand against a cutthroat businessman and graced him with one of the stupidest ideas in decades. In Venezuela, he left an up-and-coming statesman with perpetual confusion.
And in Silicon Valley, he ran into Hubrisia Maxima. Hubrisia (also known as Demon 14) was after the same target, a mouthy Tech Bro who'd been luckier than smart and still didn't know the difference.
"Nebuloso!" Hubrisia said. "Nice to see you again."
"You too," Nebuloso said, who was always surprised when Hubrisia recognized him. Nebuloso was not a sharp dresser, like Nicolaus. He tended to wear vague, forgettable clothes, usually in shades of beige or gray. Hubrisia, on the other hand, was something else. She dressed with style and confidence, looking like the sort of person women wanted to be and men thought they deserved.
"How's work going?" Hubrisia asked.
"Busy," Nebuloso said. "There's always so much to do. And the paperwork!"
"That's why I love my job," Hubrisia said. "My victims usually can't help preening and boasting, so most of them are self reporting. I hardly ever have to fill out any forms."
Nebuloso had to file four or five reports per affliction. He remembered the old days, before the Hellocracy got so big. There were multitudes more humans now, and more and more clerks and managers were needed to handle the corresponding increase in demons and paperwork.
He moved closer to his current victim, brushing his shoulder in passing and filling his head with conspiracy theories about UFOs and alien invasions. Then Hubrisia gave the man a smile that transmitted an inflated sense of self-importance, which would convince him he couldn't be wrong about any of it.
"Would you like to get some coffee, or go to a cafe?" Nebuloso asked Hubrisia afterward. He knew the destination would be tempting, if not the company. The Hell cafeteria only offered things like charred chicken and poi milkshakes. Any decent food had to be found on the job.
"Yes, I'd love to," Hubrisia said.
They found a corner bakery, where the two of them ordered lattes and croissants.
"This is much better than infernal swill and pastry pucks," Hubrisia said.
"I usually make my own breakfast," Nebuloso said, "and then find lunch or dinner while I'm out. I haven't had to eat fish logs or boiled meat chunks in ages."
"I do love a good chum-nugget, though," Hubrisia said.
Nebuloso blinked. To each her own, I suppose. "What's next for you?" he asked.
"Oh, I have a ridiculous Hollywood actor waiting for me. He thinks he's all that. And he might have been, before he became kind of nutso. Wait a minute–did you have something to do with that?"
"I might have," Nebuloso admitted. "Though most actors don't need my help." He bit into his croissant, then added, "Half the time, the people I select are already pretty far gone. But I always wonder why the more extreme ones I’ve touched aren’t rejected more often. I would think other people would get tired of the craziness, or at least draw the line somewhere."
"Don't I know it," Hubrisia said. "Between the two of us, we've unleashed a significant number of loud-mouthed fools upon the world. You'd think they'd be cancelled, but so many of them have followers instead. It's mystifying."
"I suppose it comes down to most humans just not being very bright," Nebuloso said. "Do you remember the ones that thought bathing brought about sickness?"
"Oh, yes. They smelled worse than The Pit!"
"I suppose they'll get their due after they die. Some will find out that they're no more special than anyone else, and others will find out they were always a great deal worse."
"Yes, and do I wonder how much we overlap Nicolaus and the other Soul Catchers," Hubrisia said.
"I used to run into them occasionally while I was out on a job, but it's been centuries now."
Hubrisia nodded. "Some bean-counter in Records probably knows." She finished her coffee and set down the cup. "Well, this has been fun, but I've got a trad-wife influencer in Florida to get to."
"Of course, nice chatting with you," Nebuloso said.
He finished the day with stops for an up-and-coming dictator in Africa and a fringe scientist in Sweden. Then he returned to the office to start doing paperwork.
His manager came by. "Demon 251, we need to talk about your conversion rate."
"My what?" Nebuloso asked.
"The ratio of affliction to damnation. Your numbers are low."
Nebuloso frowned. He wanted to ask when that policy had gone into effect, but one never questioned managers. "I… was under the impression that the evil in their hearts indicated the likelihood of damnation."
"Yes, but you have to be more efficient. No more repeat visits–we've noticed a trend there. And there is a half-hour limit for meal breaks, which you regularly exceed."
Oh, no, Nebuloso thought. Any type of sit-down service took at least an hour. Was he to be relegated to deli counters and fast-food restaurants? Or worse–the cafeteria?
"And I want all of the daily reporting forms on my desk the next morning. Understood?"
"Yes, your Evilness," Nebuloso said meekly.
His earlier conversation with Hubrisia and any lingering opportunities it suggested were now distant memories. Nebuloso filled out form after form until he could scarcely keep his eyes open. Placing the last of the reports on his manager's desk, he clocked out and rode the Hellevator back down to his apartment.
Tired but starving, he stood in front of the stove poking a skillet of eggs with the stick he was permitted to use as a cooking utensil. Work would be different, starting the next morning. Too bad, he thought. I was really looking forward to visiting that narcissistic buffoon again and seeing if I could make him implode…
He wondered who'd been cross-checking his results and found them wanting. What sort of metrics were attached to conversion rates? Was there a Soul Quota waiting in his future? And how trustworthy were those Evilness Index reports he relied on every day?
Finally, Nebuloso went to bed and set an early alarm to allow more time for research the next morning.
He was awakened by thumps and screeches just moments after falling asleep. It sounded like a Hell Hound on a rampage, or a torture session with the Chorus of the Damned.
But then he realized the sound was coming from next door. Nefario was having one of his obnoxious parties again. Ugh… Now the entire floor would be awake for the rest of the night. It was the last thing Nebuloso needed.
He tried wrapping his head with bats from his apartment's ceiling, but he couldn't shut out the noise. After a few hours, he got up and started filling out the paperwork he'd gathered decades ago but never gotten around to submitting. He'd put up with having Nefario as a neighbor for centuries now, but this, at last, was the final straw.
Nebuloso had done his research on neighborhoods many times over, and he'd already made his decision. The next morning, he gathered up all the necessary forms, and went to the Department of Records.
The desk demon was a particularly warty-looking individual, who made a sound like a rusty chain saw as Nebuloso approached.
"What," the demon said.
Nebuloso laid his paperwork on the counter, and wished for luck.
"I'd like to change my name to Obscurio."
The demon snickered. "Dumb," he said. But he entered the forms in the system (one slow letter at a time), and gave Nebuloso a voucher for living quarters on the "O" floor.
Finally, something to look forward to, Nebuloso thought. He could switch his name over at the end of the day, and move to the new apartment after work.
He pocketed his voucher and left the service window, his mind already on the day's work ahead. Someone bumped into him.
"I beg your pardon! Oh, Nefario. What are you doing here?"
Nefario jabbed Nebuloso with his elbow and grinned like a gargoyle.
"I'm changing my name to Obliterato!"
–/–
If you enjoyed this story, please vote for it along with any of your other favorites here.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-06 01:50 pm (UTC)LOL Poor Nebuloso. But, maybe the plumbing's better on level O?
This was fun, and a good story to read over breakfast. Hahaha, chum-nuggets!!!
Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-08-06 04:41 pm (UTC)Doesn't "chum-nugget" sound disgusting? Bleh!
no subject
Date: 2025-08-09 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-09 10:37 pm (UTC)Writing about fairytale characters and various incarnations of Hell are two of my favorite things, so Rayaso's story was practically a given for me. :D
no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 09:19 pm (UTC)I loved the original entry, and working in that universe was irresistible. :D
no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 07:53 pm (UTC)I just hope your entry is never used as evidence by leaders, etc, that "the devil made them do it" ;)
no subject
Date: 2025-08-10 09:24 pm (UTC)Hahaha!
"I'm not crazy-- I was personally afflicted! By a demon!"
no subject
Date: 2025-08-11 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-11 01:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-11 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-12 12:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-13 02:40 pm (UTC)This is such a clever piece. I love the names, as well as some of the pointed social commentary you deliver as well as the Bureaucratic nightmare vision of Hell.
This piece had me laughing. Super clever and super fun.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-13 04:34 pm (UTC)The social commentary was part of the original too, so I tried to be true to that vibe. :D
I'm so glad you enjoyed it-- and laughing! Best reaction possible!
no subject
Date: 2025-08-14 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-14 01:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-14 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-14 07:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-14 08:22 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading. :)
no subject
Date: 2025-09-01 12:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-09-01 06:12 pm (UTC)I think bureaucracy is its own form of Hell, so it made sense to me that it would be one of the ways the demons get tortured for being there. :)