Satan & Stan

What the .....?

Wiggling his toes against the boiling tar pit, Satan leaned back against his seat, shimmying his bottom a bit to ease into the most comfortable position. Taking a deep puff from his cigar -damn these Cubans knew their stuff- he threw the rest into the tar pit.

"Noooooo" cried his Cuban servant and dived after the cigar, trying to catch it before it dipped into the pit, but failing.

"Damn, I'm good at this punishment thing. What better way to torture a Cuban soul than to show a cigar going to waste?"

"Stan!" he shouted.

After a bit of clanging and jingling, his younger brother shuffled his timid body into his presence.

"Yes, brother."

"Stan, I've found just the thing for you."

After all these, God knows how many thousands of, years, after all the failed attempts at living up to the necessary evilness required of their bloodline, Stan still looked unperturbed by his failings.

"I will never fathom for the life of me if this guy is really my brother or God's way of torturing me!" thought Satan. Taking some small pleasure from the apprehensive look in Stan's eyes, he continued:

"Listen. I really hate to repeat myself but you know, we ARE evil, Stan. We burn with the desire to divert these pitiful humans from God's way. Now, I know you are not feeling these sentiments as passionately as I do, but we have to work on this. I've been thinking and maybe you need to have your own Hell, ha? Little brother? I know! You were jealous all the time, with me having all the fun with my Hell. So yeah, let's open your own Hell! What do you say?"

The worried look on Stan's face lingered for a little longer. Then slowly, his eyebrows lifted, his eyes opened with excitement and a big smile split his face in two.

"Oh yes! Yes! What do you know, brother? You do care about me, wow!"

"What? No! I simply cannot bear the presence of an incompetent evil brother, sullying my reputation!" said Satan, furiously shaking his horns.

"It doesn't matter, bro! I've even found the name, yeah! I'll call it 'Heck'!"

In the following silence, even the guy busy boiling in the tar pit stopped his shrieks, afraid to further infuriate Satan. The great punisher would not have believed if anyone told him he could be redder.

"What the Hell, Stan?"

"No, bro, What the HECK is what you should say."

Satan opened his mouth to protest but had to swallow air instead as Stan cut him short and continued:

"I know who will go in there! Oh, I'll have lots and lots of citizens! Actually, I'm quite sure of it, brother."

Against his better judgment, Satan's curiosity was piqued. Inwardly regretting ever coming up with the idea, he couldn't help ask:

"Ha! You are one continuous line of failures, Stan. How are you so sure of this?"

"Hear this, brother: I will admit into Heck all those people who fail to recognize a good joke! And you know, there are billions on earth, who are too dumb to laugh at life, which is the biggest joke of all! You could be out of business very soon, I'm just saying."

Satan was dumbstruck. He just sat there staring at Stan, eyes narrowed, lips quivering with anger, anger at Stan yet again failing even before starting. What the hell he was thinking? Just as he was about to reprimand him, Stan cut him short again:

"And you, my brother, are my first guest in Heck!"