Read Once More With Footnotes for Free Online Page A

twelve."
     
                  "I can't go like this — ouch!"
     
                  "Sorry. You'll just have to drink gallons of black coffee and bear it. Now, come on."
     
    -
     
                  Jazz resounded around the walls of Hell. Pop music echoed along the dark corridors, minglin g with the click of slot machines. Espresso coffee flowed in rivers. The scream of hotted-up motorcycles mingled with the screams of banshees both ghostly and human (guitar strumming, for the use of). The growth of Hell's popularity only equalled the grow t h of the Devil's bank account.
     
                  Up high in his balcony, on the wall of Hell, the Devil poured himself a drink of water and took three tranquilizer pills.
     
    -
     
                  The storm raged. For the last month the Northern Hemisphere had been beset by thunderstorms uneq ualled in the records of mankind. The weather-men spent all their working days testing their corns, seaweed, and other oracles but had to confess themselves at a loss.
     
                  In the large study of his new country house, Crucible threw another log on the fire an d settled himself deeper into his arm-chair. The storm continued.
     
                  His conscience, perforce the most robust and untroubled in Europe, was troubling him. Something was wrong with this Hades business. Certainly not on the monetary side, for his commission o ver the last three weeks had been exceedingly generous, as his country house, two cars, five race-horses, and one yacht plainly stated.
     
                  Hell had been a great success. The Top people were going to flock there and it had had the approvement of the Establis hment.
     
                  But something was wrong. Something to do with those heavy storms.
     
                  Somewhere in his mind, the inner Crucible, equipped with wings, halo, and harp, was bouncing up and down on Crucible's conscience. The thunder murmured.
     
                  Poomb!
     
                  The Devil appea red, looking very agitated, and ran to Crucible's cocktail cabinet. He poured himself a Belladonna, and whirled round to Crucible.
     
                  "I can't stand any more of it!" he screamed. His hand was shaking. "More of what?"
     
                  "Your lot! They've turned my home into Bedlam! Noise! Noise! Noise! I can't get a good night's rest! Do you realize I haven't slept for over two weeks? Nothing but yelling teen — !"
     
                  "One moment. You say they disturb you?"
     
                  "Very funny!"
     
                  "Why not close Hell for a while and take a holiday?"
     
                  "I've tried. Heaven knows — !"
     
                  Rumble!
     
                  "I've tried! Will they leave? No! A bunch of thugs threatened to 'get' me if I tried to close their noisy, blaring paradise — " RUMBLE!
     
                  "I can't move without being mobbed by savage hordes of autograph hunters! I'm famous! I can't get a bit of peace! It's Hell down there!" The Devil was now kneeling on the floor, tears streaming down his face. "You've got to help me! Hide me! Do something! Oh God, I wish — "
     
                  The thunder split the Heavens in twain. The sky echoed and re-echoed with the sound. Crucible slumped in his chair, his hand clapped over his bursting ear-drums.
     
                  Then there was silence.
     
                  The Devil lay in the middle of the floor, surrounded by light. Then the thunder spoke.
     
                  "DO YOU WISH TO RETURN?"
     
                  "Oh, yes sir! Please! I'm sorry! I apologise for everything! I'm sorry about that apple, truly I am!"
     
                  On the bookshelf, a