From the desk of the Sharper
"Conversations with the Devil: Part I"
This short MD&T story, in two parts, shows Veruca's conversations with Satan and how it affects her through certain events of the novel. The first part takes place when she is twelve years of age (which means that it takes place 6 years before the events of the main novel) and the second part takes place when she is 14 ½ years old (almost four years before the main events of the novel).
WARNING: This M-rated fanfic will contain rough language, some emotional material involving abuse, brief drug use, brief sexual material, and some themes of Satanism. It is not intended for anyone beneath the age of 16.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is © to Roald Dahl and to his descendants.
Kim Possible, characters and settings are created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley and © to Disney.
Any OC that I create (i.e. Tightlips, Rebecca Starlet, Gerald the Demon, and Bill Salt) is created and © by me, the Sharper.
Within the pits of blazing hot hellfire and screaming and suffering souls confined to eternal damnation, Satan was in his living room of his grand Hell mansion. He was clad with a silk tie, red Italian designer suit, and custom-made shoes for his hooves.
He kicked back the shoes, put his hooves on his footstool made from dead human skin, reclining back in his chair.
Satan stared at the ceiling, taking a sip of a glass of wine.
"Oh….if only I hadn't given away my golden fiddle to that Johnny boy….ugh… I should've never gone down to Georgia ever again…" he muttered to himself, putting the wineglass aside.
He heard a knock on the door.
"Come in!" Satan insisted.
It was Gerald, one of his long-time demon aides and his primary number-cruncher. He was a foot shorter than Satan and had purple skin instead of the Devil's red.
"Oh, it's you, Gerald, what do you want...?" Satan groaned, rubbing his head.
"Mr. Satan, invitations to Hell have been decreasing by a slight 3%..." Gerald replied, typing his claws repeatedly on the calculator.
"Damn it, Gerald, I don't want numbers! I want to know how evil people are WHEN they first enter Hell…." Satan yelled, banging his left fist on the chair.
"Well, you have your usual assortment of serial murderers, child pedophiles, and door-to-door salesmen…." Gerald said, looking at the details of the denizens of Hell.
"Gerald…..I've been thinking…"
"Yes, O Evil One?" Gerald questioned.
Satan replied, "It's about the type of people who usually enter Hell! I need someone with a lot of money!"
"A corporate executive?" Gerald guessed.
All Satan did was give slight chuckle, "No, Gerald, but close!"
"What are you aiming for, anyways, O Evil One?" Gerald questioned, scratching his purple head.
"I'm aiming for an heiress…" Satan explained, "… a child heiress, to be exact!"
"A child heiress?!" Gerald asked, still confused.
"Yes, Gerald! Somewhere between the ages of eleven and thirteen!" Satan smirked.
"Eleven to thirteen? Isn't that a little too young?" Gerald wondered.
"Nope…no it isn't, Gerald!" Satan grinned, brandishing a Cuban cigar and lighting it. He put the cigar to his mouth and took a few puffs.
"The reason why I lost my beloved golden fiddle to Johnny in Georgia was that he was older than 21!"
"You mean, old enough to drink?" Gerald asked.
"Well, duh!" Satan replied, rolling his eyes, tapping the ashes of his cigar "It's the official drinking age… unless…" He rubbed his chin "…you are an under-aged college student with a fake ID!"
"Oh yeah," Gerald snickered, "that would give someone a one-way ticket to Hell!"
"Yes…" Satan clucked before turning serious, "On a more serious note, though, I need to find someone's young and fresh soul to possess for all eternity, and it has to be through one of those heiresses!"
"Why, sire?" Gerald still questioned the purpose of stealing the soul of a child.
"Because heiresses are very prone to three of the Seven Deadly Sins: greed, pride, and envy! The richer the heiress, the more sinful they will be!" Satan explained.
Gerald still didn't figure out the root of Satan's plan, "Hmm..that part I understand, but how are you going to find the right heiress whose soul you can possess for all eternity, O Prince of Darkness? There must be at least 60,000 child heiresses on Earth!"
"I know…" Satan hissed, pressing a blue button on his desk, "That's why I myself invented the Conscience Detector!" He chuckled as a section of the wall converted into a wall of televisions. There were about 36 of these high-definition televisions, six TVs on six rows.
Gerald turned his head around and saw the multitude of TVs.
"Conscience Detector?" he asked, still scratching his head.
Satan explained, "Whenever someone does something outrageous, something unspeakable, the TV screen there will blink red. That means that someone's soul has the potential of entering the gates of Hell, provided that they don't confess it first to some priest or whatever…"
"But…millions of people confess their sins on a daily basis, sire, which type of child heiress are we looking for anyway?" Gerald still asked, perplexed.
Satan elaborated bluntly, "I'm looking for a child heiress that doesn't confess her sins to God… but who…."