The devilish woman is cackling joyously as she writes feverishly on a piece of paper that is charmed not to burn up in hell. Everything around her seems to surge with life as her eyes gleam and she brings the paper up to her eye level.
She scans the contents and grins wickedly.
“It’s brilliant!” She howls. “Absolutely brilliant! They won’t know what hit ‘em.” More giggles ensue as she crinkles up the paper and tosses it behind her, fading the charm off so that it bursts into flames and next thing, the dimension she’d been in is empty.
--
“Bustle! Hustle! You’re not moving quick enough!” The voice of god booms from his throne in heaven. Always one to boom demands, never one to work himself, a chef thinks, perhaps slightly bitterly. A voice whispers in his ear and instinctively, he swats at it. A hand catches his and before he can utter a single sound, everything goes red around him and he gasps out loud as the hand lets him go.
A woman with black hair tied up into horn-like pigtails and bright red eyes is staring at him... eagerly. He takes a step back and winces as he realizes that he stepped toward a huge flame. What is this? A world of bonfires? Why is this place so familiar...
The woman cocks an eyebrow at him and-
shoves a frying pan at him.
“I hear you’re a renowned chef on earth,” she says, voice dancing with excitement. He lifts his eyebrows in surprise. He’s used to humans being like this but somehow, he gets the feeling she isn’t human. She shoves the pan into his chest. “I want an omelet.” She won’t stop bumping the pan into his chest and the more she does, the more annoyed he gets.
“Excuse me. Who do you think you-”
“I’m Lucille!” She says like it’s so obvious. He stares at her, eyes asking for more information, but she only beams. She gazes around them, as if telling him to look around them and he slowly comes to realize those aren’t bonfires...
and what is that horrid smell?
She beams when she sees the realization in his eyes and hums lightly.
“I want an omelet,” she repeats, shoving the pan at him again. She starts smacking her lips hungrily but a thought suddenly hits him.
“I’m gonna need some sous chefs if I’m going to be cooking for you, ma’am,” he lies, trying to get himself some time to think about a plan to get the hell out of here, no pun intended.
He watches as she studies his face, trying to see if he’s messing with her or if he really means it. After a moment, she beams and disappears.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he mutters to himself, “I need to get back to earth. This is getting ridiculous.”
