Hellfire Jones and the Angel Invasion

Chapter 1

               MITCH:

I called into work so I could save the Netherworld from eternal damnation. Had I known I would be doing that, I could have told my boss. He might have been a little more sympathetic.

"Do you realize what time it is?" Nate, my supervisor, demanded over the phone.

"No, I threw my shirt over the clock so the light wouldn't keep me up," I answered truthfully. "I could move it and check."

"It's 3:05. PM!" Nate shouted. This was good to know. Burrito Grotto opened at 3:00 and I had a code red case of the munchies.

"Do you know when your shift starts?" Nate asked.

This seemed like the kind of thing he really should be aware of, but he was upset so I didn't mind reminding him.

"10:30," I answered. "But, like we discussed on Tuesday, it would be really awesome if we could move it sometime past noon." Nate needed people for the second shift and I needed my sleep, so it all seemed like a win-win for everyone involved.

"No, Mitch. Don't bother coming in ever again!" Nate slammed the phone in my ear. Rude, but Nate could be very emotional. He was also going through a bad break up. I forgave him.

I spent the rest of the day zoned out watching fractals on YouTube and eating the most awesome mega burritos with spicy ranchero sauce. Burrito Grotto's website doesn't lie. They really are the size of my head.

At night, I decided to go to Danny's Bar to check on the gang that always remembers my name. When I got there,though, I decided I needed some chocolate and went back home instead. Hunger is a cruel master.

The great thing about cooking without a recipe is that your food is different every time. It really is like a box of chocolates. I was devouring a particularly tasty version of homemade poor man's choco-burger while plumped down on my industrial strength beanbag when April walked in.

I always felt like apartments could be like fascist little cubicles keeping us from getting to know each other. When I moved here six years ago, I'd keep my door open to invite people to just walk in. No one ever did. So instead I taped a huge sign to the front of my door. COME ON IN. I HAVE COOKIES.

No one came in, so I drew a picture of a smiling cat eating a cookie. If you made a Venn diagram of people who like both cats and cookies, you would get a lot of people.

This only worked in enticing two of my fellow residents. One of them was April who wanted to know if this drawing represented the robotic squirrel drone that was allegedly responsible for the power outage in Allahabad, India in 2012 that left 600 million people without electricity,

I honestly was not aware of the existence of robot squirrels or the electric blackout. Also, it was a cat and not a squirrel. You could tell by the pointy ears.

While I was not able to convince April that I had in fact drawn a hungry feline, she enlightened me of the plot by the American government. Threatened by India's emerging economic dominance, the US sent legions of robot squirrels to disrupt the country's energy supply, causing the world's largest blackout.

I wasn't sure if I believed this, but she showed me proof that there are actually squirrels in India. In fact, Indian squirrels are way bigger than American squirrels. After that, I learned never to doubt April again.

I also learned that she preferred a 2:1 ratio of chocolate chips to walnuts in cookies. We've been fast friends ever since.

So, I was lying there, tripping out to the last half hour of Titanic, wondering why Jack couldn't fit on the floating door with Rose, when April walked in. I prefer people to just walk into my apartment. I don't understand the concept of knocking. The sound gives me a headache.