Chapter 11

“So, Monica, it’s your turn. What are your wishes, my lovely lady?” Lucy turned to Monica, making the waitress that we adored so much shiver with her attraction to the Devil.

“I would say that, since Chels did much of what I planned to do, I wish for wealth ... extreme wealth for Nicky, Dave, Chels ... and me, of course. All of us to be obscenely rich. Period. That’s my first wish. The other wishes are priority, but having run through them, through the needs, it’s time for the wants, you know. The luxuries. The extras,” Monica told us all.

“Done ... you’ll all be richer than Rockefeller by the end of the day, trust me. What next?” Satan inquired of Monica now.

“Esperanza ... I want her to be my personal hell-slave. My sister needs to be taken in hand and I promise to share her with everyone else here. I swear it ... but she needs a sister’s guidance. She just does. Plus, two of you already have two slaves each. No sense in me not having a second, right, and who better than a girl like my sister, who needs my loving discipline and correction?” Monica insisted.

“Works for me. What else?” Lucy persisted, having written down two wishes already.

“Okay ... Cecil, my old boss. I want him to have happiness in his life, no matter who with, and anyone toxic just fade from the scene. He’s been burned by his ex-boyfriend, you know. Howard. Oh, and speaking of which, wish number four, that Howard be Cecil’s hell-slave for life. It’s only fitting after how he used poor Cecil like that and broke his heart, stomped on it.

“If I were more selfish, I would wish for him to be bi, but that would be too much of a change to the Cecil that I know and love. He’s ... gay. He’s meant to be gay. That’s just how it is,” Monica continued.

“So, keeping tabs here ... four wishes down, two to go, missy,” Lucy winked at Monica, finding her as delightful as we all did, “and you’re right. That was one thing that infuriated me about Jehovah. He allowed homosexuality to happen ... and bisexuality, and then condemned people for acting on their urges and needs. He really is how John Milton, the character, not the poet, from Devil’s Advocate, described him. You know, a ‘tight-ass, a sadist, an absentee landlord.’ What a jerk! If you don’t want people to be gay, don’t make ‘em gay in the first place.”

“Okay, then ... I want ... Eden and her husband to be ... Chelsea’s hell-slaves. I think that she earned them by doing what she did, even with her bonus wishes. I believe that Eden and her man will be very happy serving Chelsea. I get the impression that they rightly adore her,” Monica now stipulated, making Chelsea lick her lips while the Devil wrote down that wish.

“Last wish ... nah, you’ve earned a bonus one at least, oh, hell, you’ve earned two. Not as many as Chelsea, just because every wish of hers was selfless, but still ... you’ve been very sweet about things. I can see that you and I will get along very well in eternity. Some selfishness is good, of course, but so is the sweetness ... and playfulness of someone like you,” Satan told Monica now.

“So, a total of eight wishes! Yay me!” Monica grinned widely, “oh, I wish that all of us can go naked in public and not have any consequences, legal, physical, etc. That’s number six, I believe.”