Summary:

When Charlie decides to install a guest service hotline for the Happy Hotel, she quickly learns that dealing with Hell's worst residents over the phone is a special kind of torture. With Vaggie trying (and failing) to keep things professional, Angel Dust answering calls just to insult people, and Alastor treating complaints like entertainment, things spiral into chaos real fast.

(Disclaimer: Hazbin Hotel belongs to vivzipop aka Vivienne Medrano. I do NOT own its characters in any way nor am I claiming ownership.)

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- Inside the Happy Hotel Lobby -

Charlie clapped her hands excitedly as she pointed to the brand-new Happy Hotel Guest Service Hotline phone sitting on the front desk. "Alright, everyone! This is going to make things so much better! A hotline where guests can call in if they need help, have concerns, or just want to talk! It's the perfect way to show that we care!"

Vaggie, arms crossed, stared at the phone like it had personally threatened her. "Charlie. This is Hell. This thing is going to be a nightmare."

Angel Dust flicked his cigarette and smirked. "Oh, honey, I love nightmares. Lemme take the first call!"

Charlie gasped. "Angel, no! We have to be polite and professional! This is about helping people!"

"Yeah, yeah, helping." Angel waggled his fingers in mock sincerity. "C'mon, babe, lemme at least try!"

Before Charlie could object, the phone immediately rang.

Ring! Ring!

Charlie gasped. "Our first guest in need! Okay, Vaggie, you answer it!"

Vaggie groaned, picking up the receiver. "Happy Hotel Hotline, how can we—"

A gravelly voice cut in, screaming: "YOUR TOILET ATE MY ARM!"

Vaggie blinked. "…Excuse me?"

"My ARM! THE TOILET! IT BIT IT OFF!"

There was an unholy growling noise in the background, followed by wet chomping.

Charlie gasped. "Oh no! Someone must have fed the plumbing again! I told Husk not to pour liquor down the drains, it attracts Hellbeasts!"

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sir, please remain calm—"

"CALM?! I'M MISSING A LIMB!"

Charlie bit her lip. "Um… we offer free medical bandages in the lobby?"

"THAT WON'T GIVE ME MY ARM BACK, PRINCESS!"

Angel Dust, now leaning on the desk, chuckled. "Well, hey, look on the bright side. Less arm means less work when you wipe!"

There was a long pause. Then: click.

Vaggie glared at Angel. "Are you trying to get us burned down?!"

Angel shrugged. "Hey, if he doesn't leave a Yelp review, did it even happen?"

Charlie groaned. "Alright, that was just one bad call. The next one will be better!"

The phone rang again.

Vaggie sighed and picked it up. "Happy Hotel Hotline—"

This time, the voice was raspy and unhinged. "I saw something… in my room."

Vaggie frowned. "Okay, can you describe it?"

The voice whispered, "He had a radio for a face… and he wouldn't stop laughing…"

Charlie and Vaggie slowly turned to Alastor, who sat nearby, casually sipping tea.

Alastor smiled way too wide. "Oh! Someone noticed me! How delightful!"

The voice on the phone let out a bloodcurdling scream and hung up.

Charlie glared. "Alastor! Are you sneaking into guests' rooms again?!"

He grinned. "Oh, I wasn't sneaking, dear. I was merely watching!"

Vaggie slammed the phone down. "Okay, that's it! I told you this hotline was a bad idea!"

Charlie groaned. "We just have to be patient! Maybe the next call will be normal!"

Ring! Ring!

Charlie snatched up the phone before anyone else could. "Hello! Happy Hotel Hotline!"

A grumpy, slurred voice answered. "Yeah, uh… can I get room service? Bring me a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes."

Charlie frowned. "Sir, this isn't room service, this is the help hotline."

"Then help me get whiskey, sweetheart."

Charlie blinked. "Wait. Husk?!"

A long silence. Then: "…no?"

Angel Dust wheezed with laughter as Husk immediately hung up.

Charlie groaned, dropping her head onto the desk. "This is the worst idea I've ever had."

Alastor chuckled, patting her shoulder. "Oh, nonsense, dear! This has been tremendously entertaining!"

Angel Dust lit another cigarette, smirking. "So, when's the next shift? 'Cause I loved that."

Vaggie picked up the phone… and threw it out the window.

— THE END —

Want a sequel where they try setting up a hotel suggestion box? Because you know that would go even worse.