City of IF

[ashkent]

Warning - This chapter contains frequent stong language and nudity.

Chapter 6

Humans have very precise ideas about certain things they should really know little about. How the world was created. What becomes of them after they die. How everything in the world works.

One universal opinion humans have, is just what Heaven and Hell look like. One is sparkling white, the other is a flaming inferno. One contains the pure of soul and virginal of aura, the other the blackest, most depraved individuals to have existed.

I suppose that this not completely inaccurate, but I would not say it is a definitive picture of either afterlife.

Heaven is rather clean and most things are in order, but that comes down to daily schedules among the resident souls and the frequent audits and process improvement plans. The Gates do not self-clean, Old Pete does not stand alone and usher new souls inside and the gardens do not look after themselves. Paradise it may be, but every paradise has to be worked at.

Hell, on the other hand, is quite a simple department of the Business of Life, burrowed away at the core of the planet. Yes, there is fire and rivers of lava, but that comes as an unfortunate outcome to a department housed in the old combustion point of a many millions of years old science experiment. Hell is the department of admin, legal and accountancy. There are special places reserved here for those of a legal profession and the mathematically minded who have perhaps not played by the rules in their lifetime. Other than that there is not much of importance or interest; it is all vice, depravity and rowdiness.

I suppose the ideas of humans have forced the evolution of both afterlife departments to some extent. There were too many souls filing complaints of dissatisfaction with their designated afterlife. Give the public what they want, is I think the correct phrase. Everything now seems to tick alone smoothly.

One thing that hasn’t changed, however, are the immortals in charge of both areas. Old Pete is still Old Pete; laying down the ground rules before allowing souls through The Gates. I’m sure he almost believes he has the last say in who enters Heaven and who can be diverted underground. In his ever beating heart though, he knows that I have the final say in those matters.

Then there is Jimmy D’Vil. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what role Jimmy plays in our little organisation, although on first meeting him I’m sure many illusions of monolithic balrogs and red-skinned abominations can fall somewhat short of expectations.

To be blunt, Jimmy is a short, fat, ugly dwarf. He would not mind me describing him in such a way because that is how he describes himself. It will come as something of a surprise for you to know this has not affected his way with the ladies. He has that special something about him that stands out. Actually, he frequently tells me it stands out so far that he usually needs to tie it around his leg.

Like myself, Jimmy has various places to be and he has the ability to be anywhere at all. It was for this reason alone, without any need for further explanation on my part, that I found my self sitting in a steamy women’s changing room, thumbing through a discarded hair and beauty magazine.

“I thought you were controlling those feelings,” I said to the page in front of me.

“Hey. What do people expect? They put me in charge of a department full of sex and depravity and I’m supposed to be a Saint?”

Being the squat figure he was, it was frequently hard to take Jimmy seriously regardless of his mood. To have him before me, modelling an abominable quiff and sideburns like two grizzly bears really did not improve matters.

“Why a hair magazine though? They can’t see you anyway.”

“It’s a bit fuckin’ boring though,” Jimmy said, smoothing a hand over his quiff. “You’ve got to admit this look has something regal about it.”

“It’s certainly..erm…eye-watering?” I said.

“Eye catching, Grim. Eye catching. You’d be amazed by the number of nubile, naked beauties I’ve had pawing over me today!”

“I’m sure I would,” I said, thinking that actually, I probably wouldn’t. “Anyway, I – “
“I mean just take a fuckin’ gander at her!” Jimmy cut in, pointing animatedly over my shoulder.

I turned to find a slim but well proportioned female towelling herself down, one leg resting on a wooden rail.

“I knew she wasn’t a natural blonde,” Jimmy said. “Dirty brown. That’s what I expected. I bet there’s been more men done a bit of work on that tunnel than the poor bastards in the War!”

“Yes, well,” I said, unsure if there was any way to respond to that comment. “You’re more educated in these areas, so I’ll take your word for it. Now anyway, I wanted to ask you about– “

“My bollocks are itching up a storm,” Jimmy told me, reaching down – thankfully beyond the frame of the picture he occupied – to frantically attend to the area of his complaint.

“Do they still invite you to those corporate events?”

“Now you come to mention it, no,” Jimmy said, pulling his hand up and flicking away something sticky and mould-coloured. “Why’d you ask?”

“Just curious,” I said. “Now, would it be alright for me to tell you why I’m here? You don’t have any more pornographic observations to make, or body parts to arrange?”

“Not at the minute. I think I’m sorted.”

“Good. What I wanted to ask – “

My patience knows no limits, although I frequently wish I had a fuse as short as a Malaysian Midget Moth’s life. I could imagine people would listen to an angry seven feet tall skeletal being with a scythe. It’s just not my nature, however.

The distraction did not come from Jimmy this time, but from a large pair of women’s underwear landing on my face.

I suppose, technically, it did not land on my face as I was not there in any real sense. To those around me, the garment had hit the hanger just above my head. It’s all very hard to explain except to say that my vision was obscured by bright pink fabric of a crumpled and damp variety.

“What do they smell like?” Jimmy asked, jumping up and down in the page.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said, shuffling to one side. “I can’t say I would want to either.”

“I bet they smell all womany and –“

“Would you mind if we had this conversation another time? I have something a little more important to ask you?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jimmy said, absently stroking the quiff again. “I’m here for hours yet. So what’s up?”

“I need to find out who We are,” I said.

Jimmy scratched his sideburns. “I’m Jimmy and you’re Grim. We work for the Business of Life and are– ”

“No I don’t mean us.”

“French oui? Wee Wee? Wee MorgIe from the North?”

“No. A group calling themselves We.”

“Doesn’t ring my bell.” Jimmy said. “Are they famous for anything?”

“Plotting death, apparently.”

“Ooh, anyone’s in particular?”

“Mine,” I said.

“Fuck me, they’re brave,” Jimmy said. “Don’t they know who you are? How do they expect you to collect your own soul?” He paused while something clicked into place in his thoughts. “You don’t even have a soul! Well, not one of your own.”

“I’m beginning to think it was a mistake coming here for answers,” I said as another piece of underwear flew past my face.

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asked. “The underwear is one of the main reasons to be here! That and all the bouncing tits and them cute little cu– ”

“I meant,” I quickly cut in, “coming to you for answers. I just seem to have more questions.”

“But when you find the answers to those new questions then you’ll have a lot more answers than if you hadn’t come to me.”

“The problem is where I find those answers.”

“Now that is a bit of a challenge,” Jimmy commented. “There is one thing I can tell you about with group.”

“Yes?”

“They’re not very imaginative with their name are they? I mean compared to The Pretty Pink Felons of Death from a few years back. Or remember The Doomer Chanters of The Apocalypse?”

“Maybe they like to keep things simple,” I suggested.

“So you know they’re plotting against you, Grim, you as in Death, Reaper Man, Soul Man, and you think they want to keep things simple? Why didn’t they go for flower arranging instead? No, they want to make things complicated. They must be devious, megalomaniacal perhaps. Downright evil, I guess. They sound like just the type I could use to whip the accountants into shape. Lazy fuckers have been skiving something rotten. Complete wastes of space the whole– ”

“I think you are getting a little sidetracked, Jimmy.”

“Oh, sorry. Well I’ll keep an ear pricked for anything on the lava flow if it helps.”

“I guess all sorts come along the flow,” I said, wondering just where I was going to make my next stop. “I really don’t want to bother Johnny with this.”

“You wouldn’t anyway,” Jimmy chuckled. “You’ve never gone to the boss with your problems before so why would you start now? Hey, I’ve just had a thought.”

“Oh?”

“Why don’t you take Pinkie? He’s been getting bored recently. Just nip down and get him. He likes you anyway.”

“I wish I could say the feeling is mutual.”

“Do you want to take him or not?”

“Well it wouldn’t hurt. It couldn’t be any more of a hindrance to take him with me.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jimmy said. “Just one more thing before you go.”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favour and prop me open against that bench,” Jimmy leered. “It gives me a direct view of the showers.”

Your DP for this chapter is simple. What is Pinkie?

[scissorkitty]

((double post, sorry))

[scissorkitty]

Yay, a new chapter! I only wish it was longer! The Jimmy d'Vil thing had me confused for a minute, and then you mentioned Johnny at the end, and all was right again. I love the ugly dwarf idea.

Pinkie is an accountant with aspirations of something grander and evil-er... although to be honest, he's not much for evil in the first place. He was designated to go to heaven and then whinged and whined his way into hell instead. Now he's anxious to make a name for himself and get a corner office.

[Chinaren]

Pinkie eh?

He has to be a timid looking accountant with a fetish for collecting the little fingers of children.

Nice one Ask.

[Crunchyfrog]

Pinkie is one of Jimmy's slaves, is deaf, and the sum total of his vocabulary is 'Arrr'.
He looks a bit like a gremlin.

Enjoyed that one, AK! :)

[ashkent]

Crunchyfrog wrote: Pinkie is one of Jimmy's slaves, is deaf, and the sum total of his vocabulary is 'Arrr'.
He looks a bit like a gremlin.

Enjoyed that one, AK! :)

I'm getting a picture of a character similar in some ways to the Death of Rats, in the Discworld novels...his whole vocabulary is "eeek", "eeeeeek" and "eek", yet Death and wizards understand him perfectly. Plus i'm sure there's some joke that would lead to him falling off something high, shouting "arrrrrrrrrrr" as he goes :D

We shall wait and see...well I shall wait, see and write but that's just a techicality.

[Lilith]

ERM!!!!!!!*thinks* Pinkie = baby Cerberus.. hence why he likes Grim.. all bones. :)

[ashkent]

I'm going to leave this a couple of more days before creating the poll. The poll will start on Friday.

[ashkent]

Ok, I'm going to leave the poll open a couple of more days. It's been a bit of a slow one this time.

[ashkent]

That was a close one in the end.

So, the creature with the stunning vocab it is. Don't worry though, Lilith and others who hoped for the baby cerberus...i can feel a cameo coming on. :)