(Story order: 1. Hell's Napkin 2. Uncomfortably Green 3. Leviticus Sandbox 4. Something Wrong 5. Black Eye Perplexity; also Azrael Drabbles: short stories from my universe)
Here he was. Azrael the bored. Azrael the lonely. Azrael the sexually frustrated. Azrael the suicidal demon. Boo fucking hoo. He was standing on Bleecker Street, feeling sorry for himself as he watched the people pass him by. They were completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't one of them. He stood, wearing his oft-present white suit and hat, leaning against a brick building. He was drinking, and alternately spitting onto the ground, a papaya drink that he had bought a few miles back from a tiny take-out hotdog restaurant. He didn't care about neatness or politeness. Not like those fucking angels, always with their extra cups to spit into. Some say that cleanliness is next to Godliness, and he was about as far from Godliness as they come. About the only reason he didn't dress like a slob was that one couldn't really strike fear into the hearts of mortals if you looked like a mallrat who just rolled out of bed. Though, he had known a couple of angels who were terribly messy in their day.
What was it about humans that he hated so much? Oh, many things. The smell was very high up on his list. Along with just about everything else about them. From their freewill to their lack of public restrooms. Not that his kind used the bathroom, but it didn't stop him from noticing how ridiculous it was that there were no public toilets in Manhattan. Come to think of it, they were scarce in central Jersey as well. Seemed like since it was something that the humans did often, there would be adequate facilities. Without having to make a mad dash through the Village all the way to the big Starbucks, only to find that you had to buy something and stand in a long line in order to pee.
Some of those who aren't familiar with the ins and the outs of the celestial plane may wonder why so much of the spiritual goings on happens in this area of the world. It's actually quite a simple explanation. The only known rift in the space/time continuum exists up under a rather large house in New Brunswick, New Jersey. It's the house on Somerset that used to be purple. You can't actually see the hole, but if you happen to stumble into it you would apparently fall straight into Hell. Or, you would just disintegrate. Needless to say, any human who may have fallen in has yet to come back and tell what happened. The hole itself, as it were, acts as something of a beacon. Only the angels, demons, and others like them can even come close to understanding the drawing power of the hole. And, even they aren't exactly sure why they feel a need to visit the Garden State. It's just one of those things.
Azrael sucked up more of the papaya drink, then spat it out. He wasn't fond of the flavor, but it reminded him of the girl he'd met on the beach. The Girl, he emphasized in his mind. Not only was she the bearer of his first (and hopefully only) kiss by a human, but also she was presumably now pregnant with the son of Satan. He sighed at the thought and kicked a rock across the sidewalk. Not that he cared, but Armageddon was not something he was looking forward to. Another pointless power struggle. Only this time, he hoped that at least maybe he would finally be allowed to die. Of course, he'd been tossed out of Heaven last time for not fighting in their war. He wondered what would happen this time. Certainly they didn't toss people out of the Pit. Did they? There wasn't any place else to go, but to nothingness. And, that's exactly where he wanted to be.
Wishing to die is a complicated thing for a demon. It's about a million times more complicated than if an angel wanted to die. All an angel has to do is cut his wings off to become mortal. Then, when he dies he either goes to Heaven or Hell just like any other human. Demons, on the other hand, can't become human. The curse of immortality is one of the biggest parts of their punishment for whatever it was that caused them to fall from heaven in the first place. The boredom alone would be enough to drive them crazy. But, that's just one of countless things that contribute to the rampant mental illness amongst demons. The only ones who seemed to stay sane were the ones who tortured the souls in Hell, and that wasn't exactly normal.
To escape from the Pit, a demon has two choices; either figure out how to get back on God's good graces which is seemingly impossible or die. And, the only way for a demon to actually completely die is to no longer exist, which is a difficult business. If a demon just drops dead, he goes back to Hell. Well, a demon can't just drop dead, they have to be stabbed, impaled, or otherwise assaulted with something that has been blessed by someone holy. Then about a half-hour later they wake up in the Pit, and it's not pretty when they do. Especially if they have enemies in the afterlife.
Azrael had no shortage of enemies. He'd only died once, which that in itself wasn't the most comfortable thing he's ever experienced. But, it looked a lot worse than it actually felt. Demons have very little in the way of actual physical feelings. They have emotional feelings, mostly negative ones. But, the average person could probably hit them all day and it would barely faze them. Not that they would allow a person to hit them, but they'd barely feel it none the less.
He continued to lean against the building, lost in his own thoughts. He had pretty much tuned out all of the people passing him by, going about on their pointless tasks in their meager existences. None of them seemed to notice him anyway.
The last time he had died, that was most unpleasant. Not just the actual act of dying, but everything as a whole. It wasn't the how, so much as the who and maybe even the why. Those ridiculous excuses for prophets for one thing. He had never met the Apostle before that day, but any friend of his sister was definitely no friend of his. That annoying Christ Bitch. He doubted very much he would like her even if she weren't the one trying to ruin his plans. No wonder she was single. And, on top of being grating, she had the audacity to spit in his face. He made sure that few people heard that particular detail of the story, but it had happened. What's worse was that his own sister had laughed. Worse even was that his sister was the one who told that fat fuck how to kill him. Then, just when he thought things were as bad as they possibly could get, he didn't die. Not only did he not die; he ended up back in the one place he never wanted to be.