Nick poised above a party of phantom men and girls sliding downhill on their derrieres and ending in a heap at the bottom. A nice change from traveling under their own power. Their maximum speed while swift and incomprehensible to mortals, seemed relatively slow to one of Hell’s old timers. Only Nick and his best scout, Cletus, could move at thought speed—“Click-Click Transportation.”
Drifting on, a pleased smile on his red, bony face, Nick paused several times to read Belial’s welcomings.
“Die and see the original Naples in all its natural beauty,” said one sign. “Try our hot sulphur springs and become a new soul.” Gayest pleasures were promised to all and golfers had special attention. “Register with the pro at your favorite golf club so you can qualify. No charge for pro’s services who’ll teach you to break 80. Free lunch and drinks at all Nineteenth Holes.”
No fool shade would wonder what he’d qualify for, nor suspect he’d have to shovel eighty million tons of coal and ashes before his handicap would be lowered enough to earn him a set of golf clubs or that the free lunch and drinks were chunks of brimstone, the sulphurous air and Styx River water which is always just below boiling point at 3,000°F.
Hell’s thousand of new golf courses, gambling joints and bars would be available only after downtrodden souls had worked a millennia or two at common labor jobs. A shady deal, indeed, but all a part of Nick’s master plan to get him and his legions back to Heaven.
By modernizing Hades he hoped to annoy “The Big Boss Upstairs” while diverting the attention of those two vigilant celestial watchers, Michael and Raphael, from the main idea. In a series of bold moves, known only to Nick and his Board or Inner Council, mankind would be wiped off the earth—and thus bring The BBU to time. Or so Nick hoped.
As a first step, he had spent a year as Pudzy, a college boy, studying electronics and modern skills of all kinds. He had enjoyed the holiday on Earth though it irked him to recall that he’d been obliged to do good here and there. The thought of these satanic lapses caused him to frown, but his jolly mood returned when he saw the familiar gates of Hell wide open in obedience to his whistle.
The whistle’s high frequency waves also awakened Cerberus, the three-headed watch dog, besides actuating “The Dingus.” This electronic device Nick had stolen to operate the three ponderous triple-fold gates of adamantine, brass and iron.
He slowed to supersonic speed, brought back his great red wings and made a neat three-point landing without injuring the needle-sharp dart at the end of his long, black tail. Still feeling jovial, he kicked all three of Cerberus’s heads, then zoomed down through the tunnel to the north bank of the River Styx.
There he halted to view the ten-lane suspension bridge Mulciber had thrown across the steamy black water. Nick was wondering how the old genius had accomplished such a feat when a thick black wall dropped across the bridgehead.