NEGOTIATING HELL: a sequel to CS Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." Ch 19

NEGOTIATING HELL: a sequel to CS Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." Ch 19 - Of Reprisal & Roundabouts

Day #2 Negotiations….

Mary trudged the terrible trek to hell. Unfortunately, it seemed easier. The night prior, Mary shared with God that Satan agreed she could redecorate her caucus room. What should she do? God asked if He could design something just for her. Instantly, He changed her office. Mary was skeptical. They were discussing hell. How does anything work for good in hell?

God smiled knowingly, “I tailored it to your natural affinities. Also, it will irritate Satan, which is a bonus but not the point.” Since Genesis, God was constantly redeeming His beings' disasters. However, in hell, this one was way ‘cooler.’ Mary hoped for a live seascape on her office wall.

Mary entered Satan’s bastion of eternal hopelessness.

Going through security was like going through a catheter.

A new sign by the x-ray machine read, ‘All ye who enter, abandon all hope. But please take a number first.'

On the secured side, she noticed new construction. It appeared to be a roundabout. Mary thought to herself, ‘of course Satan invented them. Roundabouts were eternal confusion, disguised as traffic flow.’

Eager to see her new quarters, she made her way to her “natural affinities.” Strategically, God made her a bay-window sized waterfall that cascaded over a rock garden pond. It was framed by wooden whiskey barrels of sugar-white sand. In them, were living bonsaied-palm and fruited-banana trees. Trees were at tiered heights to perfectly stage the room. Conch and clam shells waited under the trees, like little Christmas gifts. She fell on her knees to thank her Dad. She owed Him serious gratitude. To her surprise, God replied to her in her heart, “You’re welcome. Gratitude is good for the soul. Even here.”

When prayer time was over, she remembered a few more ground rules to benefit the process. Of course, she would run them by Satan as “his best idea yet!”

After booting-up Tech’s fancy servers, she clicked on her favorite playlist and adjusted the volume. She liked her climate controlled, surround-sound, music-filled office. Then, she noticed a solid array of office supplies. Never, had she received top shelf supplies working in HR. She gulped the moist aroma of her fresh waterfall and got to work. She keyboarded common ground rules from a previous life. She skipped starting/stopping time guidelines, because who knew how time worked here? She added something about minions speaking freely during negotiations — without reprisal. Satan would blow a gasket over that, but he could benefit from patience. Also, he also needed a crash course in Psyche 101. Satan was hardly an expert in everything. Mary entered other rules about caucusing, breaks, etc. She smiled as she added how Satan would provide refreshments. Mary, of course, would bring her own snacks. Who could trust Satan? How many poor priests were poisoned through his wiles?

Speaking of the devil, Satan swagged himself into the doorway. He gave Mary the Ick. Pretending to be gangster, he was dressed like a mafia mobster of prohibition times. He wore a Panama hat, a pin-striped vest, suspendered trousers and double-breasted silk suit with a chain watch. On his feet were spats. He carried a cigar. He stopped, waiting for her reaction. Getting none, he scanned the room. “I am one heck of a decorator,” he gloated. Then, he demanded to know what she was doing.

Refusing to encourage his antics, she ignored his entrance. “Hello yourself. I just finished writing your ground rules.” Mary pulled them off Tech’s printer. “And they need your approval. Your minions may not make suggestions on their own initiative.”

“My minions are not the driest matches in the box,” said Satan as he took the pages. “God got angels. I got dregs.” He scanned the rules quickly and handed them back to Mary. “You read them out loud,” he commanded with supreme superiority. “I wish to hear your intonation and inflection for proper contemplation. He lolled back in a chair, lit his cigar with his bare finger and closed his eyes. Apparently, minions weren’t the only illiterate ones.

“Fine, but next time I’ll make flash cards.” As she read, Satan pretended to listen. He repeated, “uh huh, uh huh.” When she got to the rule about minions speaking freely, she debated whether or not to warn him. She didn’t. As she read the rule, nothing happened. Mary was halfway through the next rule, when it hit Satan.

“When hell freezes over,” Satan reacted, escalating. “Why would I allow those dipsticks to speak freely?” Satan stood up, offended, “those imbeciles will do no such thing. They will never talk back. I am the Supreme Satan, the Lord of Lies, the…"

"Oh shut up. You're only a regional supervisor.” Mary interrupted his drama. “You’re the created being who makes a legion rebellion look like a clerical error.”

A computer cord caught Satan's spat and to prevent falling, he threw himself in a chair. Now at equal levels, she maintained her calm, direct eye contact. He hesitated. No one talked to him like that, well, not in hell anyway. Hellions who did, were battered, salted and deep-fried to a light, crispy char. Red or white wine pairing, was optional.

“How dare you talk to me that way! I am …”

“You WERE the beautiful 'Bearer of Light,'” barked Mary. “And you blew it.” She placed her ground rules on her desk to flip an index finger in his face. “Today, you’re a failed dumpster fire. As you well know, I can go straight back to God, at any minute. Just say the word. Do you or do you not, want my help?”

Pouting, smoke rings rose from Satan’s ears. He was deflated once before and he didn’t like it then. Resigned, he settled back into his chair and pulled a hit from his Cohiba, as ashes dribbled on his silk suit. When it started on fire, Satan cursed himself while attempting to slap it out. The more he slapped, the more burnt handprints he left behind.

Mary's voice drpped an octave, “Hear me out. Your minions need to know they can talk freely, without revenge. This will unearth interesting infernal intel.” She looked directly at Satan. “Intel which you might leverage for later use, like when I’ve left.”

Satan leaned across the table and said, “Well, well, Miss … Missy, aren't you the devious one! I will use their information. I will punish them most severely in the future. Some time when they least expect it. “Yes, indeedy.” Satan sat smugly in his chair and twiddled his fingers in glee.

Mary shook her head, realizing she steroided the monster. “No, for when you negotiate with them again.”

“When hell freezes over,” said Satan crossly.

“Anyway,” said Mary, “if nothing else, they will freak-out over whether they should talk freely or not. Besides, what you do post-negotiations is none of my concern. After all, I don’t have a dragon in this fight.”

“Yes, I can make this work for me,” said Satan thoughtfully.

“Yes Satan, it’s an excellent idea. I wish I had thought of it,” said Mary dryly.

“I am quite clever,” agreed Satan deceptively.

Every time Satan bragged, something in the room quietly improved. She wasn’t sure if God was trolling him or encouraging her, or both. Mary continued reading the ground rules. Either nothing seemed ridiculous or he tuned her out. When Mary finished, Satan sat up in his chair and looked around.

“It’s different in here,” Satan mused, “what did you do?” He had completely forgotten about discussing the decorating.

Mary eyed him, “you nixed the red beads. Knowing your workload, I agreed to remodel without being — “girly or cute”— your words, not mine. As you can see it’s neither.”

“You are right! It’s pleasant and soothing. I don’t like it!” complained Satan. “And those stupid minions will want something like this, too.”

“This room is for us,” asserted Mary. “The minions aren’t allowed in our caucus room and vice versa. Besides, their room is gray. Their furniture is gray. In fact, everything is gray — the same color gray. You might walk into the furniture, because it blends together. I’m sure you’d allow the minions to redecorate if they asked.”

“If they are smart enough to ask, I might let them,” said Satan, feeling generous. “Somehow, I don’t see it happening.”

“For the record, they’d get their own paint and do it on their own time.” added Mary. She wasn't staying here one minute longer than necessary.

“That’s right,” agreed Satan, “especially since I don’t allow any free time. Maybe I could give them some time. It would be interesting to see what they do.”

“Whatever, but it won’t be on our time,” stressed Mary. “If you are OK with these rules, I will make copies, so everything is blindingly obvious.”

“Yes, but most of my minions can’t read or write,” said Satan.

“It doesn’t matter,” stated Mary. “How they deal with it is their problem. Remember, we must be fair and consistent.”

Satan agreed, “you couldn’t be more right. I promise to consistently treat them all like trash.”

“That’s the spirit,” replied Mary. “And now we are ready. Anytime your minions show up, we can start.”

“I will have Butler-Boy summon them here in seconds.” bragged Satan. “I know how to get things done.”

“You do know that your butler’s name is Virgil.” said Mary.

“How would you know?” asked Satan taken aback.

“Because I asked him,” replied Mary.

Virgil was well-tuned into Satan’s wishes, because all minions were present when Satan and Mary entered the negotiation room. Mary thought they looked pitiful. But what could she do? They chose their chains, and now they must wear them.

Mary asked them to sit at the opposite table where the 5 chairs were placed. They obviously weren’t prepared, as they had no papers nor supplies. What they did bring, was plenty of nothing.

As everybody sat down, Mary opened her files and spread out her papers. For the most part, her files were empty, but they looked professional. The minions watched her display of authority, whispering to each other. Mary, blessed with exceptional hearing, heard them ask each other why they didn’t have files.

Satan was oblivious, having discovered the newly mounted mirrors. He was admiring himself. His cocked his Panama hat and pictured himself with a pencil-thin moustache. Maybe next time.

Mary stood up and handed them copies. “These are the ground rules proposed by Satan’s side.” She read them aloud. “Do you have anything to add or share?”

“Yeah, we got proposals,” said Black, aggressively.

Mary replied, “That’s great news, but first, we must set ground rules. These will serve as our negotiation boundaries. Following these rules, we will exchange proposals.”

“Caucus!” yelled Orange. The other minions cowered.

Satan leaned to Mary and whispered cantankerously, “Can they do that?”

“Yes, they can.” Mary whispered back.

The minions sat there, blinking. Mary looked at them sadly and said, “this is when you all go to your caucus room to discuss concerns. Then you return with questions or counter-responses.”

The minions oozed off their chairs into their caucus room. Orange asked curiously, “What will you do?”

“We wait until you come back,” replied Mary, kindly.

As the minions shut the door, Satan asked, “is that how it works?”

“Yes,” replied Mary, “now we have time to discuss strategy. So, what do you think they’re talking about?”

“First, I think they will discuss how great and wonderful I am,” said Satan vainly. “Then, I think they try to read the ground rules. Then they will stress over ‘speaking freely without reprisal,’” said Satan. “That was such a good idea I had.”

“Yes, it was an excellent idea,” replied Mary, rolling her eyes …

Meanwhile, in the minion-morgue, caucus room….

“What do the ground rules say?” asked Black. Orange was the only one who could read. He was trying, but the others kept asking what it said.

“Shut up you morons,” said Orange. “Maybe you should learn how to read. I can’t concentrate with all this blabbering.”

“Shut up and leave him alone!” ordered Black.

“Oh, dear G-d!” exclaimed Orange in surprise. As he took the name of G-d in vain, they all snarled and writhed in pain. Orange’s tongue was on fire as the others’ ears burned.

Green asked, “do you think Satan knows how to make holy water? You know… boil the heck out of it?”

“No wonder you’re here,” said Black to Green.

Orange continued, “Get a load of this. Satan is going to provide refreshments.”

Black asked, “do you think he will make donuts?”

“And beer,” interrupted Red.

“There’s more. Wow!” Orange stopped. “Satan has listed therein, listen; ‘everyone has the right to speak freely without the fear of reprisal.’”

Yellow was confused, “is Reprisal one of the 4 horsemen in the Apocalypse?”

“Very funny, Banana Boy. It means we can’t be punished when we speak.” replied Orange.

Green burst out laughing and howled, “Yeah, right, like that’s ever going to happen!”

“I don’t like it,” said Black. “I don’t trust Satan nor do I trust Mary,” said Black.

“We were singing her praises yesterday,” Orange accused.

Red shouted, “let’s get back to business!”

“Do we have any problems or additions to the ground rules?” asked Orange.

“I don’t,” said Yellow. “But without having done this before, how do we know what we don’t know?”

“Let’s to back and observe them for awhile. We can always caucus again,” said Orange. With that, they scuttled into the negotiation room.

Upon returning to the negotiation room…

After much posturing and jockeying for position, they sat down.

“Well?” asked Mary.

“What if we have a problem with some of these rules?” asked Black

“I thought we were OK with them?” asked Green.

“Shhhhh,” whispered Black, kicking Green under the table.

Mary pretended not to notice Green’s obvious wince. She asked, “well, what are your issues?”

“We didn’t actually have any.” said Black off-handedly, “I just wanted to know what we do if we did.”

“You share questions and concerns. The, we discuss the point until we agree or compromise. Since you don’t have issues, let’s use these and move on.”

Satan, adamantly declared, “these are official ground rules henceforth and forthwith.” He slammed his fist on the table to emphasize authority. A burst of flame engulfed his hand, leaving a charred imprint on the table.

Mary looked at Satan’s flaming fist then at Satan. After a moment she said, “have you heard of a gavel?” He looked dubious. She returned to her handouts, “As you can see, we exchange proposals tomorrow AM and negotiations commence tomorrow afternoon. Until then we are adjourned. According to the bilaterally approved rules, you are free to work on proposals for the rest of the day.”

The minions slid off their chairs and shoved their way into their caucus room.

“Where are you-yahoos are going?” Satan demanded.

The minions froze. “She said we could go,” whined Black.

“She’s not the boss?” asked Yellow as innocently.

“No, she’s not the Boss.” Satan choked on his indignation. “You’ll go when I say you can go. Now get out of my sight, you sniveling sacks of greasy-grumblers.”

The minions caucus room and preparation of proposals….

“Boy, what a sorehead,” grumbled Yellow as they scurried into their caucus room.

“You’re a legend,” Green said to Yellow. “That was quite a dig on the boss.” In falsetto, he mimicked Yellow, “she’s not the boss?” They laughed. Satan was clueless.

“So now what?” asked Black. “Did anyone bring their lists?” They looked guilty.

“I say we work at Smokey’s over a couple of brewskys,” said Green.

“No,” said Black, firmly. “We do this here. No one can know what we’re doing. Let’s continue our demands list. What else do we want?”

“I don’t know,” commented Green, shrugging his shoulders. “What do you want?”

“I want whatever you want,” Yellow said unhelpfully.

“Enough!” said Orange, unleashing his frustration. “We’ve got one chance to fix hell, so let’s write something, anything! We can’t be fools to Satan or in front of his assistant. She’s the only one who knows what’s going on.

“I think we already mentioned lower quotas and more beer, those are reasonable,” said Yellow.

“Has anyone known Satan to be reasonable?” Green said, half asking and half commenting. No wonder we need a union.”

“Got it, zero soul-quotas, said Black. “Is anybody writing this down?” They all looked at each other.

“I don’t know how to write,” admitted Yellow.

“I don’t either,” added Green.

“I know how to write, but that’s menial work and beneath me.” complained Orange disdainfully. He crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air.

“Shut up and write, you bozo,” ordered Black.

“I don’t have anything to write with or on,” continued Orange. “If you notice there are no supplies in this room, nothing but us.”

“Well, go find something!” yelled Black.

“But, where?” Orange yelled back.

“I don’t care, just go!” shouted Black.

“Fine, I’m going,” roared Orange, as he stomped out.

“By the way, where’s Red? He’s supposed to be getting help from the personnel people on probation,” said Black.

“There was a loud bang at the door. As they turned, Green opened the door and Red staggered in. He appeared half-digested by a grizzly bear.

“What happened to you?” asked Yellow.

“I did what you said, I went to see hell’s HR people,” gasped Red. “They said they were banished for excessive helpfulness.”

“First, they were hard to find.

Second, they don’t want to be found.

Then, they beat me up just for finding them. Then I told them what I wanted, and they laughed at me.

They laughed so hard, they could hardly beat on me. That’s when I got out of there and tried to find you.

He couldn’t see the disguised gray furniture, so he collapsed on the morgue table, like a corpse.

“So, what do we do now?” asked Black.

Yellow griped, “I bet they’re helping Satan and Miss Mary.

“No, they won’t help Satan,” croaked Red weakly. “They laughed at Satan, too. That’s why they’re so hard to find. They’re banished into nowhere.”

“How did you find them, if they’re nowhere?” asked Yellow.

“IDK, I was looking for a toilet,” responded Red.

“I think you went to Smokey’s and got in a fight!” accused Yellow.

“Okay, dipstick,” said Red belligerently. “You go find them and convince them to help. I’m not going back there.”

“Enough! We’re getting off track,” said Black exasperatedly. “We’re here because we want respect and fair work conditions.”

“I thought we wanted free beer,” said Green. “And better beer!” They agreed.

“Personally, I don’t think Satan is serious about negotiating. I think it's a mind game.” said Black.

“Well, Mr. Orange and Mr. Black; you got us into this. Or is it, Miss Shirley these days?” spouted Green.

Orange primped, “We are wasting time.”

“Isn’t that the goal?” asked Yellow. “We do the least amount of work over the most amount of time.”

“Yellow’s right. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?” said Black. “We’re already in hell.”

The four of them gulped. As they stood around yapping and pointing fingers, Orange returned from seeking pen and paper. Opening the door as wide as he could, he pulled in a rusted, rickety cart with boxes on boxes.

“What’s in the boxes?” asked Black.

“It’s called office supplies.” stated Orange smartly.

Green asked the obvious, “what are we supposed to do with those?”

“Use them stupid,” said Red, who was still licking his HR-inflicted wounds.

“Let’s see what we’ve got.” I went to Miss Mary, who gave me the list of supplies that she needed,” said Orange. “Then I took it to the dragon lady in supply. She gave me a dirty look but coughed everything up, eventually. She demanded everything back when we’re done.”

“Give me that,” said Black, grabbing Mary’s list. The others grabbed boxes and ripped them open like kids on their birthday. “Easy!” he cautioned, “I ‘m sure the ugly, old supply bat will want the boxes back. And the list, too.

“It’s my list,” said Orange. “Mary said I could keep it! But the supply lady made a copy to make sure we return everything. She is so greedy. “Whoa!” he said as he watched the other minions wreak havoc on the supplies. “We need to doublecheck that list to make sure we got everything! What if she didn’t give us everything?”

“Okay,” said Black. “What’s on the list?”

“One pencil,” said Orange, looking at the list over Black’s shoulder.

The minions rooted through the boxes, until they found the pencil. It was 3” long, with toothmarks and a missing eraser.

“Found it!” said Yellow, pretending to lift the holy grail. “So where do I put it?”

“Put everything on the table,” said Black, continuing. “One ruler,” moving on to the next item on the list.”

“Why do we need a ruler? Are there chairs on the list?” asked Orange. “We’re going to need chairs.”

“The ruler is to measure how much of the pencil we use.” Black patronized them further, “we have a couch, you blind dingbats. It’s in the corner, blending in with the walls. Don’t you remember us jumping on the furniture?”

“We need more chairs,” Orange restated, “All of us can’t sit on the couch together. Imagine the stench!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” demanded Black. “Go get chairs.”

At that moment, Virgil knocked. He brought in the chairs that Mary arranged for them to have. They were gray and colorless, like everything else in the room. However, they were better than nothing. As it was, the minions added enough color to the room.

The minions finished inventory their supplies. They counted the sheets of paper, since the dragon lady would upon their return. She wanted the pencil shavings back, if they sharpened it. There would be no slack for these dolts, who wasted supplies when they should be hunting souls. She wasn’t stupid and saw through their ruse. They were hoarding time and power. She was an expert on hoarding. On earth, she was a hoarder. Her punishment in hell was inventory management. Forever.

“Now that we have supplies, let’s each write what we want,” said Orange. “Ideally we create our own lists and consolidate them into one long list.”

“That would be fine,” said Yellow sardonically, “but there’s only one pencil, and no one else knows how to use it.”

“Okay, fine,” said Orange, as he took the pencil and paper. “Lay it on me.”

“Free beer,” said Green obsessively. They nodded.

“We talked about football teams winning the Super Bowl, what about the Buffalo Bills? Wouldn’t that make hell freeze over too?” asked Red.

“I want my all-night party,” said Black.

“How about minion-of-the-month awards?” asked Green.

“Are you out of your pea-brained mind? Why would we want that?” bullied Black. “I don’t want my picture on a wall where Satan can see my face all the time!”

“You call that a face?” razzed Yellow.

“What makes you think you would be nominated?” Red mused.

“When Satan’s thinking about anyone else, he leaves the rest of us alone,” said Green.

“Well, if you morons remember, negotiations are about give and take,” said Orange. “We need 500+ pages of stupid stuff, which Satan won’t bother to read. He’ll immediately cave in to our top 10 demands.”

“Good plan,” said the sycophant, Yellow. Orange rolled his eyes.

“I think free beer should be #1,” reiterated Green, just in case they forgot.

Black ignored Green, saying; “an overwhelming list is a good strategy. Who says Satan and Mary are not planning the same thing.”

“I have an idea. We demonstrate our supreme unselfishness, by exempting ourselves from the minion of the month award.” Green mused, “just so Satan focuses on others.

“I don’t know about Mary,” said Black. “She pretends to be nice and fair.”

“Yes, but Satan is civil when she’s around.’ said Orange. “She could be a lot worse. Besides, it doesn’t matter whether we like it, it’s what we have, so let’s get on with it ...,” said Orange.

Meanwhile, in Satan’s caucus room….

“So, what else keeps you up at night?” asked Mary.

“We’ve discussed this before,” said Satan, who was getting annoyed with the process. “I want them to do my bidding and not complain.”

“Yes, I understand,” said Mary. “I already have that starred, highlighted, underlined and circled. What are some minor issues to offset theirs? They must agree to some things in return for others. so, let’s ask for everything.

Satan brightened, “So they give and I take. Give me examples.”

“Alright,” replied Mary, knowing she was crossing lines. “Ask for higher quotas and harsher punishments.”

Satan sat back in his chair, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He pursed his lips at himself. Are you saying you can get those dimwits to agree to higher quotas?”

“It’s what we call a bargaining chip,” answered Mary. “What are peripheral demands that you don’t care about but are willing to trade? The trick is to act like you care about everything. Then, you act like huge concessions are made by giving them up. So, what don’t you care about?”

“I don’t care about minions,” said Satan. “They are stupid, lazy, and the worst excuse of minions that I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you ever had a good minion?” smirked Mary.

“No,” Satan shot back. “They’re as dumb as a box of rocks. I always get the worst of the worst.” He was bored. He tilted his Panama hat in various angles in the mirror.

“Here’s an idea, give them as much ice water as they want,” said Mary.

He thought for a moment. “Why would I want to do that?” Satan drawled.

“One, because on the surface, it looks like you are doing something nice,” said Mary. “Second, how long does ice water last down here?”

“I see where you are going,” said Satan, regaining interest. “I give them a glass of steamed vapor and call it ice water. I have fun and get to prevaricate.” Satan’s eyes lit up as he chuckled evilly, “I like it!”

Subconsciously, Mary wished Satan would go back to admiring himself in the mirror. He was useless and exhausting.

Finally, she said, “Satan, I know how busy you are, running hell and all. Perhaps I can construct a list for you to review and approve later.”

“Yes, I do have an important meeting to attend,” said Satan to himself in the mirror. “You must try to carry on without me.” Satan got up with much fanfare and exited the room.

Dealing with Satan was draining. Mary knew Satan would get his way in the end. Moreover, the minions would be punished in a manner she preferred not to know about. It was stupid to negotiate with Satan. But for her, it was perplexing, since she knew God always had her back. What is Dad really up to?

< See below link for Chapter 20: “My issues are stupider than yours!” >

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Talking to a wall

Chapter 2: Jerking Satan’s Chain & the burning laptop

Chapter 3: “Hmm …. I guess I read that wrong”

Chapter 4: The devil is in the details

Chapter 5: And what was it they wanted to organize?

Chapter 6: Nothing is ever good enough

Chapter 7: What could be worse?

Chapter 8: The learning curve

Chapter 9: It’s all in the sales pitch

Chapter 10: Uh, huh?