Miscellaneous stories : Christmas in hell by CD Richards The Dark Side of Christmas contest entry |
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Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. 
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls — Merry Christmas, and welcome to hell! I have many names: Satan, The Devil, Beelzebub to name a few — but you can call me Nick. I apologize if any of you are feeling uncomfortably hot, we haven't as yet found an air conditioning system that is effective down here. I'll bet this is the last place any of you expected to be having Christmas dinner — life is full of little surprises, isn't it? Emma Parsons, I see you over there! I'm sure you never thought as you were chatting on your cell phone while driving to McDonald's that you'd be feasting on mealworms instead of a quarter pounder. You seem to be looking for someone. Perhaps it's that little toddler in her pram and her mother that you mowed down as you ran the red light? You won't find them here, they're dining upstairs. Paul Jervis, wonderful to meet you! I'm surprised we haven't run into each other years ago. Who'd have thought that just thirteen cans of beer at the end-of-year piss-up would impair your driving that much? I guess maybe the old man you left a paraplegic last night, but seriously, who else? Where's little Tommy Hook? Oh, there you are! I'll bet your sister misses you. A brand shiny new rifle for you, and a lovely pink one for Sandy — what a great Christmas idea, such thoughtful parents. Everyone knows the only thing that stops a bad toddler with a gun is a good toddler with a gun. Perhaps you should have been nicer to your sister. What's that? Screaming? Oh yes, of course, that's coming from next door, in the "reserved" section. You'll probably meet Father Chet later. He's been here quite a while now. He used to take what might best be termed an "unhealthy interest" in the young boys in his congregation - that is until one of his parishioners found out what had been happening to his son. The crackling you can hear in between the shrieks of agony is the sound of Chet's nuts roasting on an open fire. Now, I know before your untimely demise, many of you were looking forward to a white Christmas. That's why I've seen a number of you posting messages on your Facebook pages like "turn back the boats", "close the borders" and "today's refugee, tomorrow's terrorist". I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of you! This is exactly the sort of hate-mongering and racism the world needs more of. I know some of you come from a place that has a well known landmark boasting a sign that reads "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore." Others are used to singing a national anthem which includes the words "For those who've come across the seas, We've boundless plains to share". While these might seem to imply that we should exercise compassion and open our hearts, minds and borders to those fleeing persecution, torture, and intolerant, murderous regimes, we know that such a thing can't possibly work. The idea that those fleeing for their lives from middle eastern or African nations today should be offered shelter on our shores whilst our own citizens are paying outrageously high taxes is ridiculous in the extreme! And so, my dear friends, it's time to wrap this little introduction up. I'm truly happy to see each and every one of you. Your gluttony, greed and lack of empathy for any living thing besides yourselves (oops — ex-living, how insensitive of me) is truly what makes this place what it is, and represents all that is best about the festive season. Bon appetit!
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CD Richards
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