Ok so this has taken forever to write. It was inspired by a Walk on the Wild Side clip where the Elephants were singing Afric. It's just a silly little thing that I had fun with. I don't own any characters from South Park, and I was too lazy to come up with a demon so I borrowed Crowley from Supernatural. Don't own the song either.
I Miss The Rain Down In Africa
In his office the red form of Satan could be seen reading through the piles of paper work that had been neglected over the last few months. Reading glasses sat securely on his nose. A black feather quill balanced between red skinned fingers, blood dripping off the end onto the sheets of paper. A sigh fell from his lips, he was this closed the impaling his horns against the puke yellow coloured walls again...
"Master Satan?" his secretary Jena called, her head appearing from around the doorframe.
"What is it Jena, I am very busy," Satan replied shuffling the papers to cover up his startled surprise at her sudden appearance.
"Forgive me Sire but... he's back," Jena said a small smile falling from her lips. Her red hair covering up her missing eye and melting left cheek. Satan looked up in excitement.
"Excellent! Jena open up all the windows. Who's on torment today?" Satan asked swirling his chair around and opening his window; giving him a better view of his domain.
"It's Crowley Sire," Jena replied looking down at the clipboard she held between her skeletal hands.
"Oh man Crowley are you serious, just when I was hoping for something to help with this paperwork, Crowley will break him for sure this time," Satan whined turning his attention back to his files.
"Not necessarily Sire, he has failed for the last five hundred and seventy three times."
"Yeah but he's been practising all year for this, he really wants that vacation prize."
"Cheer up Sire, I'm sure the boy is strong enough to handle Crowley," Jena soothed before leaving the room and returning to her work.
"Well maybe. I suppose it will be just as good to see him break before he returns to the mortal world," Satan said to himself, spinning his seat back to the window in order to get the best view, paperwork already forgotten.
In the reserved torture chamber set high on the hill to allow everyone to see its victim suffer stood two figures. One appeared to be a short man clad in a neatly pressed suit, looking to be in his late twenties, a large carving knife held between a pair of dextrous hands. The other was a teen to small for his age held in place and wearing nothing but his boots and a pair of white tatty briefs.
Blood was trailing slowly down the boy's thigh, mingling with the thick sheen of sweat, before adding to the ever growing puddle that filled his brown boots. The squelching noises coming from the blood filled articles were smothered by the sounds of tortured screams from all around him. The heat from the hellfire scolded his bare skin whilst at the same time toasting his blood stained underwear.
Pale slender arms littered in scars and fresh cuts suspended above the lithe body. The shackles hanging down from the ceiling, encasing his small wrists, was the only thing that kept the boy's abused body from crumbling where he stood.
The tormenter stepped back and surveyed his work. The boy's dirty blond hair was streaked with dried blood; patches of blond were blackening from the smoke and soot kicked up from the hellfire. The boys face was hung but the tormentor knew that it was covered only in sweat. The only wound his face had suffered had been the deep knick his knife had caused on the boys cheek, an accident. He was more interested in inflicting as much damage as he could to the boy's chest and thighs.
The boy's chest had blood flowing freely from the decretive swirls that had been carved into it. His back, which was turned to face the open hellfire, was coated in ooze and puss from the popped boils and blisters brought on from the unbearable heat.
His body jerked every now and then as his tormentor let his power flow through his abused body, his nerves feeling like they had been struck by lightning with each second under this torture. Blood now flowed freely from his nose and eyes, as capillaries burst from the electrical current his tormentor sent through him.
Despite the pain his tormentor had inflicted on him the young teen barely muttered a sound, infuriating his tormentor into blind slashes of rage from his knife. Looking at the clock the tormentor sighed, he was running out of time.
"Anything to say Kenny?" he asked before delivering another neat cut to the boy's suspended arm.
Kenny smirked, his head hung low, knowing that his time in hell was almost coming to an end. Knowing, that once again, he had beaten Crowley in this game of torment.
"I hear the drums echoing tonight..." he started in a low whisper.
"Well Kenny?" Crowley persisted.
"But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation
She's coming in 12:30 flight," his voice was still low in volume making Crowley strain to hear him.
"Speak up Kenneth!" Crowley yelled annoyed that he had failed in making the boy crack yet again.
"The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation
I stopped an old man along the way,
Hoping to find some long forgotten words or ancient melodies
He turned to me as if to say, Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you," his voice was getting louder toward the end of the verse letting those around him hear his singing.
With a flick of Crowley's finger, power ran through Kenny's body causing him to jerk as the electrical current set every nerve in him on fire once more.
"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you!" he started shouting now, his voice turning horse from the pain.
"There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do," voices from the other tormented floated to his ears as he sung, the smirk on his face growing as the voices joined in.
"I bless the rains down in Africa!
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had," his voice had lost its hoarseness as he put everything he had into the song, not even realising that Crowley's torture had stopped. All over hell tormentors and tormentees started bumbumpbumpbumbing in synch; creating music with their voices only.
"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had" the rest of the song's verses were ignored as the chorus was repeated by all those being tortured in hell, and though they would never admit it, even some of those committing the torture sung or hummed along to the tune. From his office, even Satan couldn't help but sing along; a smile on his face as he turned back to his paperwork, inspired by the stubborn blond immortal.
Nobody batted an eyelid at the odd behaviour, knowing it to be a usual occurrence whenever the blond immortal boy known as Kenny ended up in hells domain after one of his many deaths.
"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do,"
Kenny looked up to look Crowley in the eye, a smug grin on his face, as his body started fading in and out. A clear sign that his time in hell was over.
"See you next time Crowley," he said before fading fully from view, returning to the mortal realm up above, the singing around him not stopping despite his absence.
"I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had,"
Crowley shook his head in amusement, a small grin on his face, as he lifted up the shot glass filled with five year old scotch to his lips. "See you next time kid," he said letting out a small salute with his drink.
"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had."