HellCo: The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Business Practices (Part Two)

"Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson! You sound tired... rough night?

If you detect smug satisfaction in my voice, Mr. Johnson, it is merely the satisfaction of getting to interact with my very favorite customer once again! It has nothing to do with your nightmares about giant eggs with eyes devouring your children.... Oh, just a guess, Mr. Johnson.

Now, where were we? Oh, yes. You were complaining because the HellCo Reanimated Friendship Operative you had stranded in your hideous dimension had managed to use its resourcefulness and fortitude to jerry-rig a way back to the Home Office so that it wouldn't re-die of thirst in the absence of a HellCo Brand Drinks Mixer. You will notice that I am not yelling about this today, Mr. Johnson! That is because, Mr. Johnson,.... I am drunk today! I have taken precautions. You will not get me today, Mr. Johnson, you disgusting pile of organs!

Now, let's move to the next item on your bill, shall we? A standard de-Ghasting, nothing that anyone could possibly dispute -

Very well, Mr. Johnson. I'm the immortal one here, we can waste as much of your infinitesimal time as you'd like on this minutiae...

What IS a Ghast? Well, Mr. Johnson, imagine a bird. A pigeon or stork or penguin or whatever they're called. Now, imagine a giant floating ghost killing that bird by spitting fireballs at it. That's a Ghast. And if they're not regularly cleared out of your rented portion of the Home Office, you'll be subject to some VERY painful fines.

Oh, Mr. Johnson, must we play games? Of course you already knew that you had to rent the section of the Home Office your HellCo Brand Personal Transport Portal links to. It would be idiotic, moronic, imbecilic, and downright stupid for you to not know that, yes?




But never fear, Mr. Johnson, our Operative, like all of our Possessor Class agents, is well-trained in the Miyamoto School of Fireball Tennis, and was easily able to de-Ghast your property with only minimal damage to its Re-animated Vessel. Repair fees will, I am DELIGHTED to tell you, be light.

In fact, the Operative even managed to earn you a nice finder's fee for charting an unexplored region of the Home Office! You'll see the credit below the total for the debt, there at the bottom. Rather like a tiny wart hanging off the bloated corpse of a screaming pig, isn't it, Mr. Johnson? Oh, just another guess....

Ah, looking through these pictures has me nostalgic for home...

I can almost smell Mother's apple pies cooking within the skulls of our enemies..


As we danced and sang and dared each other to drink from the poison lakes...


Such a romantic time to be nearly alive...

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson, the moment quite escaped me. As I was saying, our Operative scouted the location for HellCo Brand Drinks Mixer components, while introducing the local natives to our special "Hellspitality Program" (which is to say, it hit them with its sword and then stole their gold). Quite propitiously, the Operative chanced upon a pair of HellCo Brand "Blaze" Security Guards!

Normally, they'd be in one of our HellCo Brand "Evil Fortress-style" Warehouses, but these two appear to have slacked off! As it happens, the spines of HellCo Brand "Blaze" Security Guards are a VITAL component of the HellCo Brand Drinks Mixer, so the Re-animated Friendship Operative quickly set to murderously disassembling these worthless layabouts. Oh, they moaned and they whined about their right to live, about the horridness of their servitude, about the HellCo Brand "Blaze" Security Guard Families they'd be leaving behind... None of which matters much to a mobile corpses animated by a possessing demon, as I'm sure you know, Mr. Johnson!

Mr. Johnson, did you put the phone down? How rude! Although, I'm not sure why I mind, especially... since the price of this phone call is being charged to your account...

Ah, there you are, Mr. Johnson! I thought that might bring your hefty, hard-breathing frame back to the telephone. Shall we go on?

Obviously, having the parts for a HellCo Brand Drinks Mixer is not enough to fulfill your shirked contractual obligations, sir. In order to make things right for you (and we at HellCo are, first and foremost, all about making things right for our dear, fat consumers), our Operative was also required to find HellCo Brand Drink Mixer Drink Mix! And unfortunately, even on the lush and welcoming shores of the Home Office, that can only be found in one of our patented HellCo Warehouses. And so, Mr. Johnson, the Operative set out to search for one (at a very reasonable hourly rate, available, I think you can see, on your bill).

And he immediately found it! Huzzah, Mr. Johnson! What do you mean, that's not a very narratively satisfying turn of events? I'm not a storytelling demon, Mr. Johnson, I'm a Customer Service Demon. No, I do not see a need for "suspense," or "more focus on the journey." It's an invoice, you blubbering fool, not a novella.

Fine, Mr. Johnson, it's your rapidly accruing debt, after all.

After a long and perilous journey, with much bravery and derring-do and frippery and twaddle, the Operative found one of the ancient and terrifying fortresses, birthed from the living rock of Hell. He fought his way inside, defeating the various walking pigs and floating fire people, to recover the precious Drink Mix within.

Is that suitably epic, you half-witted child? Have I roused your passions? Is your slobbering need for story sated? The Operative hit some things with a sword and dug some holes and finally found the Damned Mushrooms. Are YOU HAPPY, YOU SNIVELING CORPUSCLE OF DOG'S VOMIT?!!!!!!


I would apologize for my outburst, Mr. Johnson, but, frankly, we're at the end of your invoice, so I don't really see the point. As a customer, I have satisfied you, as is my remit, with the sweet milk of information, and now YOU, Mr. Johnson, will become a sort of "Demon Satisfaction Agent," because I will feel terribly satisfied to transfer you to Collections, where they will be Satisfied to help you find a payment and/or punishment plan to resolve your vast debt.

Other stuff? Mr. Johnson, at this point I can only imagine that you have fallen in love with my dulcet tones, such is your ardor for inventing reasons to stay on the phone with me. What other devices could you mean?

Appliances? Gardens? Tools, toys, terrors?! Mr. Johnson...

Yes, Mr. Johnson.

Yes, I see the pictures in this file.

No, Mr. Johnson.

No, that does seem highly irregular.

Mr. Johnson, I am going to have to consult with my manager, Duke Eligos, the Many-Eyed Goat. May I call you back tomorrow at dinner time? No? Well, that's when we're going to call. No, whenever you sit down to dinner. Yes, we'll know, Mr. Johnson, we're very good. I'm hanging up now, Mr. Johnson. Yes, yes.

And... Mr. Johnson?

Sweet dreams."

-Click-

Boop-bee-bee-beep-boop-boo-boop

"Mother? It's Bob. Oh, nothing, just a long day at work. How's Dad? Still dead? Good, good...."

(To be Continued)