Brains, Brawn, Beauty & Rumsfeld: SPECIAL BONUS FEATURE!

...Set somewhere in an alternative reality, which bears a remarkable resemblance to our own, except for one or two interesting features...


Darkness. Creepy ambiance. Greasy, wispy mist swirls close to the floor. Lights come up from darkness to murky dimness.

*A woman walks through the vast echoing space, looking about her in confusion*

Sera: Hello? Helloooooo?

*She taps at her phone, then puts it back in a pocket*

Sera: Hello? Anybody here?

*Another figure strolls casually out of the gloom. She peers at him*

Sera: Mark? Oh, thank God, what's going on? If this is one of Jensen's pranks, I will tear him a new one...

Crowley: No, no, it's all right, love, it's not a prank, you're just in Hell, that's all.

Sera (blinking): I'm... where? *looks around* What's wrong with the lighting? Have we had a brown-out again? *She sniffs* Oh, what is that smell? Jared! Jared, is that you? It's not funny, Jared!

Crowley: It's the Hellhounds, I'm afraid. They get excited when they scent new blood. Perhaps I can explain...

Sera: You'd better start explaining. I'd expect collaboration from Misha, but I expected better from you. Oh, that is rank. I'm going to get a stepladder and knock their heads together for this. I'm gonna feed you charcoal biscuits, moose-man!

Crowley: Look, you really need to back up a bit, and just look around you. You are in Hell, Ms Gamble – that sounds so formal, may I call you Sera? – you are in Hell, Sera.

Sera (looking around again): But... I don't understand. *Scratches head* How did I get here?

Crowley: Well, what's the last thing you remember?

Sera (frowning in thought): I was reading some scripting ideas for next season, just making some notes, and... and... I had the pen...

Crowley: And you tragically accidentally inhaled the lid, and choked. My insincere condolences.

Sera: But... how did I get here?

Crowley: By dying, love.

Sera: No, what I mean is, how did I end up here? If this is Hell. Why am I in Hell?

Crowley: Well, why do people get sent to Hell?

Sera: The wicked are sent to Hell, to be punished for their sins.

Crowley: Right, right, but who decides that? How do you know who goes to Hell?

Sera: Well, the wicked, the sinful...

Crowley: And who decides that somebody is wicked, hmmmmm?

Sera: Well, God, I suppose.

Crowley: And how do you know that? How do you know what God thinks is sinful?

Sera: Uh, it's in the Bible.

Crowley: That's right! Gold star for you. Now, this is the crucial question: who wrote the Bible?

Sera (blinking in uncertainty): Um, well, I think the four Gospels were written by four of the disciples, and Paul wrote his letters... I'm afraid I'm a bit fuzzier on the rest. Some people think Moses wrote some or all of the Old Testament, but it was largely a collation of oral tradition. It was probably a lot of people.

Crowley: Precisely! Elephant stamp for you. So, the Bible, which informs us about who will get sent to Hell, was written by a lot of different people, writing down their ideas and opinions about who should be sent to Hell!

Sera: But... what does that have to do with me?

Crowley: Look, this religion thing really isn't that mysterious. All you really need, in order to go to Hell, is for enough relatively decent people to fervently believe that it's where you deserve to go. R&D think it's a back-up system that Himself Upstairs designed as a failsafe, in case He wasn't always around to keep an eye on QA. Strangely enough, it works pretty well.

Sera: But doesn't that mean you get persecuted minorities who don't deserve to be here getting send to Hell? That's not fair!

Crowley: No, it doesn't work like that, love – bigots, racists, homophobes and serious religious loonies of any sort are so tainted, their opinions don't count. I told you, as bizarre and ad hoc as it sounds, usually, it just... works. Somehow. It's why we get the televangelists Down Here, but not their congregations.

Sera: Then what am I doing here?

Crowley: Ah. Well. You can only be here if you made a deal, which I know you didn't, or you did something that was believed by a lot of people to be very very naughty indeed. Have you done something that might strike a lot of people as being very very naughty, Sera, hmmmm? Anything just a teeny weeny bit evil? Something to cheese off the devoted fans, possibly? Ringing any bells here?

Sera (looking guilty): Er...

Crowley: Well, now that you're here, we should get on with your induction. Hello, I am Crowley, King of Hell. Welcome to your Damnation. This is Orgle, and he will show you to your Eternal Torment.

Orgle (smiling): Hello, I am Orgle, and it is my pleasure to be your guide fiend today.

*Sera's eyes bug and she lets out an ear-splitting scream of terror*

Orgle: Please follow me. If you look to your right, you will see a group of dishonest financiers being dropped into a vat of molten gold.

Sera: Aaaaaaaaaargh!

Orgle: If you look to your left, you will see a group of child molesters, queued up in front of that little guillotine. You can always tell them, because the red hot pokers make them walk funny.

Sera: AAAAAAAAARGH!

Orgle: Up ahead, you will notice some cheating husbands.

Sera (stupefied): But... but... I don't get that, it's just a row of men on sofas, with bottles of scotch in their hands, and attractive young women sitting in their laps...

Orgle: If you looked closely, you would see that there are holes in all the bottles, but none in any of the women. Now, here is your desk, *he indicates a desk* Here is your computer *he indicates the dusty, elderly HP machine with phosphor screen* Unfortunately the E key and the S key don't work, you'll have to fill them in by hand afterwards, and it's stuck on all capitals, but I'm sure you'll manage, it runs WordPerfect of course, here is your printer, the ribbon is a bit old and it only prints the top half of each line of text, but you can fill the rest in while you're writing in the Es and Ss, and this is your PI, his name is...

Sera: What's a PI?

Orgle: Your Personal Imp. His name is Phlegmgob, and he will keep you supplied with damp crumpled paper, damaged storage tapes, stale broken Oreos and half-strength International Roast Caterer's Blend coffee, served at precisely 70.4 degrees F. *Phlegmgob waves shyly*. Now, this is the list of scripts you are expected to write...

Sera (scanning list): 'The Bachelorette – Nursing Home Naughtiness'? 'Keeping Up With The Kardashians' Gynaecologists'? 'Pimp My Septic Tank'? 'Home Cooking: Cannibalism For Beginners'? 'Star Wars Holiday Special 2'? 'Star Wars Holiday Special 3'?

Orgle: And this is the pile of scripts you are expected to review. Back it up, Vorz!

*Another fiend carefully backs a tip truck up to the desk, and deposits a mountain of paper. Sera carefully picks up one several hundred pages thick, and reads the cover.*

Sera: 'Battlefield Earth: The Mime Edition'?

Orgle: Sounds exciting, doesn't it? Vorz will deliver your scripts for review regularly. Oh, I nearly forgot, you're due in meeting room 666 in an hour for the first round of auditions.

Sera (gulping): Auditions?

Orgle: Yes, auditions. You'd be amazed at just how many demons want to star in a pornographic production, so we thought that since you're a professional, we'd get you to oversee the project. Of course, they are demons, so they may well poke you with pointy sticks. At least, if you're lucky, it's pointy sticks they'll use to poke you. Well, I'll leave you to get settled in. Thank you for patronising Hell, number one service provider for all your Infernal needs. We Scare Because We Care.

Sera (wailing in horror): Noooooooooooooooooo!

FIN


Technically this chapter is A Bit Naughty; FFN fics are not supposed to use real (i.e. not made up characters) people in stories, so I might have to take it down shortly, but I hope you can get a bit of a giggle whilst it's here... seriously, I will never forgive That Gamble Woman for blowing up Singer Salvage or disposing of Bobby.

Reviews fatten the other plot bunnies!