Wisconsin Hells: No More Mister Christ Guy

Well shit I did this again. I liked doing the Halloween flashfic so much I whipped up another for Christmas! I apologize for the lack of context with which these have been posted; a proper Pilot Episode will hopefully materialize before long. In the meantime, as it stands, I am happy with the introduction of Todd here. He's based on a real coworker of mine, also named Todd. One of those guys I loved talking to but never got too close with, and I pray every night he never holds any real power over anyone - that fear is manifest here.

I think a few of my anxieties crop up in this one. Early December was among the snowiest in recent memory, with no days significantly above freezing until the week of Christmas. The ice sculptures in Neenah, which I see with my parents every year (I don't know for sure if Wisconsin Dells has an equivalent IRL, excuse me if that's inaccurate) stayed standing and in good shape for a couple weeks. A few feet of snow accumulated and even after a significant melt-off we've got a good deal left. This is following an October with three consecutive eighty-degree days and represents the sharpest pivot into winter I've seen. I guess between this and a couple of video clips I recorded for an upcoming video I felt a need to preserve this winter for future generations.

With that bummer out of the way, hey, I've had a great Christmas! My landlord is letting me keep the house after months of bickering about land development and I'm happy to say everyone in the family gets on with Lily. I wasn't sure how they'd feel when I brought a trans girl home. So far so good. Not a single awkward question from any of 'em. The girls mostly treat her like one of their own and the guys are doing alright too. In general Christmas, and being around my family in general, has gotten progressively easier in the years since I moved out. I love them, I just can't be around them 24/7. A couple hours a month talking about old Alpha Flight back-issues with my dad is plenty.

I've been bringing Wisconsin Hells up a little more seriously among friends as a Thing I'm Working On. I brought it up at Christmas, even, and I had a chat with my friend Brian about it the other day. Told him about this half-finished idea I had that each head of Cerberus was incarnated as a different person, and that two of them might wind up as this pair of stoner teens I featured in what's currently written of Episode One proper. The idea being, there has to be a former mythological creature out there who's happy to just chill as a human to counterbalance Satan's existential woes. He also suggested the two of them could be two of the Fates, but after he sent me a doodle of two people video-calling the third head of Cerberus, using a dog filter, I was sold. The Fates were sealed away and Cerberus' fate was sealed. They'll hopefully show up next time. For now, more of Satan, Uncle Chuck, Abby and Todd. And a merry Christmas to all of you at home.

 Charlie turned to face Satan. “This is a good ol’ fashioned Christmas, Steve. Snowiest dang December we've had in years! The sort of white Christmas I used to know, ya know? I wanna do somethin’ nostalgic, for the old farts like me - the Bing Crosby crowd.”

Satan ceased rapping on the craters he’d worn in the desk. “So, what's the Midwest's premiere magic man got up his sleeves?”

“Nary a clue. That's my problem. I hardly think about Christmas anymore. It’s lost some of its luster what with the commercialization and comin’ smack-dab at the center of the off season.”

“I wonder if you must necessarily regard winter as an off season.”

“The public sure does! This is a summer town. The handful of folks who swing by this time’a year know exactly what they want and their budget’s usually wafer-thin courtesy of the red, white and jolly. That don’t bode well for a hole-in-the-wall time-waster like the Abattoir.”

“And we lack the budget to become anything more than a hole-in-the-wall. I understand.”

“Oh, well. At least it’s pretty out. Those ice sculptures downtown ain’t meltin’ for once. We should check ‘em out sometime.” Charlie shoved a finger against the ancient bay window, a little rougher than he probably should’ve. “Acourse, it's gotta be a weird time to be a goose. Warm fall, cold-as-nuts December. Sometimes I wonder if those suckers'll still be migrating in a hundred years.”

“I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Maybe that'd make a good exhibit down the line… the last migratin’ geese!”

“How exactly would you go about putting migration on display?”

“Little pen in the back, make it real nice for the geese. They'll visit twice a year.”

“Assuming you can still find geese that make the trip. Otherwise, why not keep a small flock on hand and release them twice yearly while nobody is looking?”

“I like the way you think, Steve! Only thing, I dunno if it's still legal to keep geese in yer basement. Not after what Jerry Seinfeld did.” He shuddered.

“Of course.”

Down the way, another former Hellspawn had just clocked in at No More Mister Knife Guy. Todd was the only other closer tonight but, mercifully, he was on the phone. Abaddon pondered that phone a second. The guy holding it in his hand was probably half its age, yet he owned it. He decided its every move. He would likely decide, so soon as this place was turning a profit, that it was obsolete. A relic from a time when the idea of Hell still held weight. It carried these thoughts for too long, letting them blot out the obnoxious din of a tinny speaker positioned right above the case it had decided to stock first. Best to get it over with quick, before Todd decided to put that fucking Michael Buble song on.

The big thing this year was a new lineup of prop anime-inspired swords about one paintjob away from a lawsuit. Paper sticker price tags on their hilts let Abaddon know these were authentic replicas of weapons from shows like Kung-Fu Kaisen, Damon Stabber and Chain Saul Man.

“Hey,” Todd said. Apparently he was off the phone and behind Abaddon. Far too close. It shuffled to the right. “It’s your first Christmas season with us. I wanted to make sure I remembered to tell you merry Christmas today.”

“Appreciated.”

“Of course, I can’t even call it Christmas to the customer’s faces anymore. We gotta call our big sale the End-Of-The-Year Blowout or some generic crap like that. Know why that is, Abby?” God, was he really one of those guys?

“Because of the Jews and the Muslims?”

“God, are you really one of those people?” Todd huffed and took a step back. “I love the Jews. Don’t tell me you thought those Israeli flag switchblades were something I ordered out of a catalogue, Abby! That’s my baby!”

“Mhm.”

“I like some of the Muslims I’ve met too.” He coughed and looked over Abby’s shoulder. “Straighten out that Tachyon Titan sword for me.”

“Gotcha.” It nodded and made sure every sword was as straight as possible.

“I’m not here to cut the breeze about politics, though.” Todd said. “I was actually thinkin’ about Christmas. Santa.”

“Do you believe in him?”

Todd sputtered, “d-do you?”

“I've met stranger men in my life.” Abaddon shrugged.

Todd seemed satisfied with that. “Well, I was thinking of how much harder life would be for him if the Earth was round like the feds tell us.”

“Mhm.”

Todd gestured over at the wall-spanning world map behind the counter. “Check it. That's the Earth.”

“Sure.”

“Know how we got all those pins in there, for all the countries our swords come from?”

“Mhm.”

“Let's say that map was accurate - one fat pin in the middle of China. Santa could just tie his shit up to it and spin around like the needle on a record player.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“And that's why I'm the shift leader and you're just a register monkey. Speaking of, we’re about to open. Get to it.”

“Of course.”

“So why isn’t he allowed to call it a Christmas sale?” Satan asked.

“Fuck if I know. It’ll be a cold day at home before I double back around to a tangent he’s forgotten about.” Abaddon laughed and got back to pouring cranberries into a pot.

“My first Christmas here has already proven odd. I can’t recall sales ever having been such a universal feature of the season… when did the revelries of the Yuletide grow so commercial? When did greed replace Christ?” He stroked his neck stubble and scoured his memory. “Wait, never mind, that was my fault.”