Where do I begin to explain my long absence?

1. To improve my craft, I've been taking some online writing classes and subsequently worked on a few original short stories that came out of the class. If there's any news on them, I'll let you know.

2. Been taking extra babysitting jobs. Sometimes two in one day. Not a lot of room for free time, and most of it was spent on homework.

3. Had to attend my grandpa's funeral last weekend. Doesn't put you in the best mood for creativity.

4. I wouldn't call it writer's block, but I'm at a point in this story where it could go in a million different directions. And this chapter alone was frustrating. That's why it's so short. But I promise the next chapter will be more meaty.

Title Song: "Ain't Misbehavin'" by Louis Armstrong.

Alastor couldn't avoid Charlie and Vaggie forever. As soon as he came downstairs and reversed his drunken spells, he was called into the main office. Tina didn't leave his side, so there was a small upside to this whole ordeal.

"I knew you would cause trouble the moment you walked into our hotel," Vaggie said, pacing around the office. "I just didn't think it'd be over something so stupid!"

"I turned everything back, didn't I?" Alastor batted his eyes at Charlie. "Shouldn't I get some credit for that?"

Charlie bit her lip. "Well, if you're sorry—"

"'Sorry' isn't enough!" Vaggie pointed at him. "You know alcohol abuse is strictly prohibited here!"

Alastor scoffed. "And yet I see Husker inebriated at the front desk every hour of every day."

"Under your influence! We weren't supposed to be serving alcohol in here, period!"

"You're all making a mountain out of a molehill. So I got a little tipsy. Who in this hellhole hasn't?"

Tina elbowed him in the ribs. Alastor glared at her.

"I thought we had an agreement, darling."

"You're being an idiot. It's allowed."

"Listen to your wife for once," Vaggie said. "Assume she hadn't been there. Your reckless behavior could've gotten someone killed."

"It didn't, though." Alastor crossed his arms. "I would consider that an achievement."

Tina smacked him upside the head. "Not the time for jokes, Al."

"You know, I said I didn't mind your brash behavior." He growled, rubbing the back of his head. "But at this moment, it's getting quite irritating."

"Please, Al," Charlie said with praying hands. "When we accepted your help, you promised you would behave."

"All I promised," Alastor said, holding up a finger, "was that I would help you run this hotel. I didn't say anything about working towards redemption. I'm not one of your patients."

"But you set an example for everyone here," Vaggie said. "It was bad enough having the press on our case over Angel Dust, now we've got you to worry about?"

"Don't worry." He waved a hand. "The press won't catch wind of this little incident."

Vaggie looked over at Charlie. "Show him."

The Princess nodded and pulled out her hell phone. "They already have."

Alastor's lips closed over his teeth. "What?"

Charlie showed him and Tina a video of Alastor drunkenly singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" and then tripping over an ottoman. Tina grabbed the phone.

"I thought I broke Angel's phone!"

"You did," Vaggie said. "But he was livestreaming, and someone got ahold of the footage before you got to it. Apparently Angel has a lot of followers."

The video cut to Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench on Channel 666 News.

"I don't know about you, Katie," the gasmask reporter said, "but I don't think I've ever seen the Radio Demon this hammered!"

"Hotel for rehabilitating sinners?" said the female reporter with a laugh. "More like a hotel for washups!"

Alastor snatched the phone from Tina and crushed it in his claws.

"Uh, that was mine?" Charlie said.

He snapped his fingers, restoring the phone. He took less care in tossing it back at the Princess.

"Permission to go down to that blasted TV studio and burn it to the ground?" Alastor said through his teeth.

"Not helpin' your case here, Al," Tina whispered.

Charlie put her head in her hands. Vaggie patted her on the back.

"So you see, Alastor. This is a very serious matter." Vaggie placed her hands on her hips. "We have no choice but to count this incident as your first strike."

Alastor sprang up. "For one little drunken stupor? That's what you're reprimanding me for?"

Vaggie narrowed her eye. "Is there something else we should be reprimanding you for?"

"No, but I made no agreement to that ridiculous little three-strike policy!"

Tina cleared her throat. "That I created."

"Actually, you did." Vaggie held up the contract and flipped to the last page. "As one of the co-managers, you agreed to adhere to all the guidelines listed here." She pointed to his signature. "You can't weasel your way outta this one."

"Oh, come on!" Alastor threw his hands up. "This isn't nearly as bad as my usual habits! You let that raccoon off easy and she's caught stealing every day!"

"Proxy's case is different. She can't control her behavior. It's addictive."

"So is Al's," Tina said.

Everyone turned to the bat.

"He's an alcoholic." She stood and took her husband's arm. "This was a serious relapse. Instead of punishin' him, we should be helpin' him."

No one had expected Tina to take Alastor's side. Not after calling him out on every little thing he did all week.

Vaggie shook off her shock. "He still made the decision to drink all that alcohol, knowing full well—"

"How about this?" Charlie clasped her hands together. "Al, if you promise to stop drinking, we won't give you a strike."

"What? Charlie, you can't—"

"Provided," the Princess said more sternly, "that you attend our group therapy sessions at least three times a week."

Alastor wrinkled his nose. "You want me to sit with a bunch of inferior demons and talk about my feelings?"

He sat back down, crossed his arms and huffed like a stubborn teenager. "No thank you."

Vaggie shrugged. "Then it's a strike."

"No one's forcin' ya to talk, Al." Tina sat down beside him. "All ya have to do is go to the meetings. You can just sit and listen to everyone else."

She placed a hand on his elbow. "I can join ya, if that'll make ya more comfortable."

Alastor stiffened at her touch, trying not to leap for joy.

"Or we can schedule some one-on-one sessions, if you prefer," Charlie said. "Either with me or Vaggie."

"Nope!" Alastor resumed his usual cheery state. "I'd rather listen to other people's miserable sob stories! Ha-ha! That is," he said, glancing down at his wife, "if you're still up to joining me, Tina."

She rolled her eyes. "Only to make sure ya actually go."

"Ha-ha! Good enough for me!"

Vaggie looked between the couple in confusion. "What's happening here?"

"Nothing." Tina returned her hand to her lap. "Al and I have simply made a Cold War pact. No more fighting. For now, anyway."

"That's wonderful!" Charlie clapped. "I knew marriage counseling would help!"

Tina cringed. "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that."

When Charlie and Vaggie dismissed them, Tina led Alastor out of the office. She punched him in the shoulder.

"You're lucky I managed to get ya outta that scrape," she said, folding her arms. "If ya wanna stick around, you're gonna have to start behavin' yourself. Which means ya better be takin' this group therapy seriously."

Alastor massaged his shoulder. "Have you been working out?"

"Al."

"Oh, alright, dear." He raised a palm and crossed his heart. "For your sake, I swear I'll be a perfect angel from now on."

"Uh-huh." She cocked an eyebrow. "I've heard that one before."

"I mean it, precious. Besides," he said with a smirk, "if the Princess were to kick me to the curb, I wouldn't be able to accomplish what I came here for."

"Ya talkin' 'bout watchin' everyone fail, or winning me back?"

Alastor chuckled. "Can't it be both?"

Tina scowled. "Group therapy's at two, in Conference Room 200." She poked him in the chest. "Don't be late."

"As long as you're there," he said, smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat, "how bad can it be?"

The moment he entered Conference Room 200, Alastor immediately regretted his decision.

The walls were painted bright blue, with images of smiling suns, puppy dogs and rainbows. No doubt the Princess was behind the decorating. If only he'd ignored her request to leave this room alone and spared everyone the eyesore.

"Good, you're here." Tina dragged him over to the circle of chairs. "You're sittin' next to me, where I can keep my eye on you."

Alastor beamed. "Whatever you say, darling."

His elation was short-lived. For the seat Tina guided him to was to the right of Angel Dust, who gave a finger wave.

"Hiya, Smiles. Still hungry for penis and crackerjacks?"

The Radio Demon turned to leave. "On second thought, I'll take my chances with Vagatha."

Tina grabbed his arm. "Oh no, ya don't, mister. You promised."

Gripping his shoulders, she forced him into the chair.

"But he's—" Alastor said, pointing.

"The person who bugs ya the most?" Tina grinned. "I know."

"But you can't just… We had a deal!"

"Deal was we stop arguing." She whispered in his ear, "Didn't say anything 'bout psychological torture."

Alastor's jaw dropped. Angel Dust snickered.

"The old battle axe's gotcha on a tight leash, eh?" The spider elbowed him with his lower arm. "What? She gonna chain ya up in the doghouse if ya don't be a good boy?"

Before the Radio Demon could rip the spider's limbs off, Tina bonked Angel on the head with her fist.

"Don't think you're off the hook for that vid," she said. "I can always get ya a new phone next week."

Angel rubbed his head. "This is the fuckin' thanks I get after our little heart-to-heart on the roof?"

Static crackled in Alastor's voice. "What little heart-to-heart?"

"I talk to other people besides you," Tina said as she walked behind him.

Alastor's eyes glowed. "But that promiscuous spider?"

"Don't get jealous, hon." She patted his shoulder. "He's gay, remember?"

"Yeah, Smiles," Angel said. "I wouldn't screw with your gal without her paying me first."

"Not his gal."

Contrary to this statement, Tina slumped in the chair beside Alastor. Angel quirked an eyebrow. He was about to question the odd mood they both seemed to be in when he caught sight of Carrie Canary.

"Hey, Demon Resources." The spider waved her down. "I'm supposed to report to you 'bout workplace abuse, right?" He pointed at Tina. "Boss lady here just gave me a pounding."

Carrie glanced at Tina. "Did he d-deserve it?"

Angel scoffed and crossed his arms. "Who am I kidding? I already knew you were biased."

Carrie then noticed Alastor and gasped. She leaned in to whisper to her employer.

"Miss T-Twinkle." The canary's eyes flitted towards the Radio Demon. "I can t-trade seats if you feel—"

"It's fine, Carrie," Tina said.

"B-B-But y-you said if h-he gave you t-trouble—"

"Didn't you hear her?" Alastor smirked as he draped his arm around his wife. "The lady's perfectly content right here."

"Hands off," Tina growled.

"Yes, dear." He promptly placed his hands in his lap.

While Carrie was shocked by her employer's decision, she stuck to her duty and sat on the other side of her. All the while keeping a nervous eye on the Radio Demon.

Other demons took their seats, including Proxy, Dr. Cougarton and the Dicto twins. Then in came their enthusiastic host and her less enthusiastic partner.

"Good afternoon, everyone!" Charlie went over to the chalkboard with the words GROUP THERAPY written in a rainbow pattern. "Thank you for coming here today. Lots of you have been really diligent in attending meetings and are one step closer to rehabilitation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes with a groan.

"Oh, it gets better," Angel murmured.

"Before we get into today's topic," Charlie said, gesturing towards Alastor and Tina, "we have some new faces with us today. Why don't you take a moment to introduce yourselves?"

Tina opened her mouth, but Alastor beat her to it. "Honestly, if neither of you know who we are by now, I would focus less on rehabilitating your souls and more on rehabilitating your brains."

A swift kick to the shin was his punishment.

"He's Alastor, I'm Tina. We both got problems, but I'm a saint compared to him."

The Radio Demon reached down to massage his shin. "That's debatable."

Charlie grinned as if there wasn't a heavy amount of tension in the air. "Alrighty then, let's start with our opening affirmations. If you'll all stand up and take hands?"

"What's that now?" Alastor asked.

A pink gloved hand appeared in front of him.

"Come on, Smiles." Angel wriggled his brow. "Time to get your Kumbaya-ya's out."

Alastor stood and turned abruptly. "I'm out."

Before Vaggie could threaten him with a strike, Tina snatched Alastor's hand and pulled him back.

"Be a good boy now," she said, "and stay."

Alastor glanced down at their joined hands. He'd almost forgotten why he'd agreed to endure this farce.

Then Angel took his other hand and his displeasure was back.

The group lowered their heads and began chanting:

"I am a sinner, who's made bad choices, but that doesn't make me a bad person. Though I am a demon, I am still a soul that's worth saving. I will work towards Heaven and myself, with hope for a brighter future."

Only three demons were silent. Tina didn't know the words. Angel was mouthing them with his tongue out in a mocking manner. Alastor was praying for an Exterminator to send him to oblivion.

As everyone released hands and sat back down, Angel whispered to the Radio Demon, "Welcome to the real Hell, Bambi."

I've never tackled a group therapy scene, nor have I ever been in group therapy (I'm a pull-myself-out-of-the-pit kind of person), so this was new territory for me.