Post by M̷e̶S̴H̵_̶i̴s̷_̷d̷E̸A̶d̶ on Sept 1, 2022 22:25:49 GMT -5
“Satan is so much more in earnest than we are--he buys up the opportunity while we are wondering how much it will cost.” - Amy Carmichael
Our story begins inside a crammed deli in Hell’s Kitchen bursting with life. Buzzing noises from inaudible voices talking over one another. Heavy pounding sounds of flesh being slammed onto the counter before being sliced. The frontal display has various cuts of meat; ground beef, steaks, salmon, ribs, whole fish resting on long aisles of ice cubes The glass was recently cleaned as it is translucent in appearance, almost as if there was no glass in place. Bundles of dried, aged sausage hangs above the counter in all various colors and smells. Some have a more potent spice aroma.
The line that’s gathered of thirty people in the center of the deli inches forward as a man with a newsboy cap, a long beard and various tattoos approaches the counter. He is slim in appearance with little muscle definition in his arms. His black pants are skinny and tight, and the bottom of his pants are buried into his combat boots. He flashes his two fingers at the butcher as he reaches into the ice cabinet and grabs two cuts of ribs.
Jerking the door as it has the tendency to get stuck, a large man with a black cavity protruding from its chest enters which causes the line to suddenly shift their attention on him and not their place in line. The hooded man is massive. The hooded face veering upwards to face the rest of the New Yorkers that join him. The figure has broad shoulders, thick, black lines of definition are visible. The figure has a vermilion shade to its skin. It appears to be wearing bright red swimming trunks or underwear with kneepads and boots with a leather appearance in texture, almost hoof-like. The cavity appears to be pulsating and smoking. Without saying a word, the large figure approaches the number counter to find its place in line. A loud whirring sound breaks through the noise in the deli. The large man scoffs. Number 66 is printed the receipt.
The hooded man takes his place in line, standing behind someone who appears to be on a video call with coworkers as the first part of the conversation that the large man hears is, “We need to make sure that our team members are meeting their metrics for the quarter”. The man before him appears to be middle-aged, black hair with the sides being a mature gray-color.
“Damn. Are you okay, my dude?” he asks, muting his earbuds. The large man looks down at the massive hole in its chest, “Oh, this? It’s just a flesh wound.”
The man scoffs.
“I bet. Looks like you got blasted by some spaceship or something.”
“If only you knew…”
The man laughs before turning his attention back to his phone . “I don’t mean to interrupt you, Bill but take a look at this guy!” He leans back and moves the camera of his phone more to his left to fit the large man into the frame. There is a mixed reaction from the rest of the participants in the eight-person meeting. One woman with a background effect of a duplex apartment has a look of confusion while also fighting back the urge to snicker. A bald man whose camera is at an angle, so the side profile of his face is captured smiles from ear to ear. One of the participants isn’t even visible on camera as half their face is cut off due to the angle so their reaction is left a mystery.
“Halloween must’ve come early!” says the bald man which causes the entire huddle to pop.
“I like what you did with your eyes!” says the duplex woman, “Where did you get those contacts?”
“That prosthetic looks amazing!”
“Did you make the costume yourself??”
The barrage of responses causes the sheering pain of the cavity to surge through the large man’s body. He grasps at the wound. “It’s…it’s not a costume.”
“C’mon man, really. It’s not a costume?”
“Nope.” the large man says ominously.
“Who are you supposed to be then? The Jersey Devil?” asks the man, only this time he removes one of the earbuds from his ear to better hear the large man next to him. “I’m afraid not. I am not a myth. I’m The Devil.” The man with the phone nearly chokes. “No s**t? You’re the Devil?”
“Hey! Language!” shouts one of the voices on the videocall. It was faint and raspy. “Sorry” says the man, making sure to mute himself again.
“Why yes, I am. Most don’t believe me when I say that.”
“Oh, I bet they don’t.” The man reverts his attention back to the meeting which has turned into the whole team sharing a personal win for the week. “Hey, everyone!” shouts another passing man which causes everyone in the deli to turn and face them. “Look who we have here! The Devil!” Off in the distance, another voice blurts out, “Whose toast landed jelly-side down?” in a sarcastic reference to one of the many supposed beliefs that show the presence of a demonic spirit.
The announcement gets a mixed reaction. Some appreciate the edgy joke while other are appalled at the audacity. The hooded man doesn’t cower from the attention that’s been drawn on him, feeling a sense of power that his name and presence are felt. “Hail Satan!” shouts one voice off in the distance in a low growl followed by a few scattered laughs. The awkward silence is then interrupted by the ‘next!’ from the clerk behind the counter with a look of exhaustion in his face. He’s a heavy-set man with long curly hair kept back in a ponytail. The line then inches forward as the man who ordered the two ribs strolls towards the exit. Up to the counter next is a couple of two women. The meeting is over. “So seriously man, are you some sort of performance artist?”
The large man looks down. “No, I truly am Lucifer, the fallen angel.” The man can’t keep a straight face. “Love the commitment to your act, man.”
“I am being serious! What must I do in order to prove this to you?” The man scoffs again. “You know what you can do? Make this line move faster, man. I got things to do!”
The large man puts his hand on the corporate slave’s shoulder, looking at him deep in the eye. "If I can make this line move, then will you believe me?" The corporate man nods.
Suddenly, the heavy-set man with long curly hair pounds on the counter. Violently.
He starts cursing up a storm, blaming the customers for his problems. He takes off his work shirt and throws it at the women who were at the counter!
Half the crowd scurry away to safety while the remaining patrons take to calm the overworked and probably underpaid member of the workforce. All the pleas fall on deaf ears. They only enrage the man even more who while incoherently screaming, starts breaking the glass cases where all the meat is stored and starts throwing the frozen blocks of hardened flesh. One of the patrons gets a swordfish right through his eye.
The crowd then panics as they all bolt towards the door. The door decides to get stuck again as it refuses to open as rest of the deli staff try to stop the carnage before they too are torn apart by the heavy-set man who seems to be possessed, gaining inhuman strength. The corporate slave watches on in horror, frozen in fear as a behemoth of a man destroys the deli. The panicked crowd uses their combined might to break the door down but it's still stuck. The behemoth then rips the television hanging in the corner which was in the middle of a newscast regarding the hottest summer in New York history.
His screams are getting more guttural.
With little effort, he hoists the television above his head and tosses it at the bundled group of patrons. Some are crushed. The few that are left squeeze through the door and flee to safety and freedom.
The only ones left are the corporate slave and the large man, his arm still on the other man's shoulder. He trembles in fear, managing to veer his eyes over to the demonic figure in his presence. By now, the large man has obliterated everything in sight, pouring grease and oil all over the deli. His screaming has turned from savage to wailing as he grabs a lighter and sets the deli ablaze!
“Who are. …you?”
“I told you – I am Satan. Do you believe me now?”
“Yyyyyyes”
“Good.”
With that being said, the large man disappears like a ghost as the behemoth continues to set the deli on fire, leaving the corporate slave alone, trembling in fear.
Our story begins inside a crammed deli in Hell’s Kitchen bursting with life. Buzzing noises from inaudible voices talking over one another. Heavy pounding sounds of flesh being slammed onto the counter before being sliced. The frontal display has various cuts of meat; ground beef, steaks, salmon, ribs, whole fish resting on long aisles of ice cubes The glass was recently cleaned as it is translucent in appearance, almost as if there was no glass in place. Bundles of dried, aged sausage hangs above the counter in all various colors and smells. Some have a more potent spice aroma.
The line that’s gathered of thirty people in the center of the deli inches forward as a man with a newsboy cap, a long beard and various tattoos approaches the counter. He is slim in appearance with little muscle definition in his arms. His black pants are skinny and tight, and the bottom of his pants are buried into his combat boots. He flashes his two fingers at the butcher as he reaches into the ice cabinet and grabs two cuts of ribs.
Jerking the door as it has the tendency to get stuck, a large man with a black cavity protruding from its chest enters which causes the line to suddenly shift their attention on him and not their place in line. The hooded man is massive. The hooded face veering upwards to face the rest of the New Yorkers that join him. The figure has broad shoulders, thick, black lines of definition are visible. The figure has a vermilion shade to its skin. It appears to be wearing bright red swimming trunks or underwear with kneepads and boots with a leather appearance in texture, almost hoof-like. The cavity appears to be pulsating and smoking. Without saying a word, the large figure approaches the number counter to find its place in line. A loud whirring sound breaks through the noise in the deli. The large man scoffs. Number 66 is printed the receipt.
The hooded man takes his place in line, standing behind someone who appears to be on a video call with coworkers as the first part of the conversation that the large man hears is, “We need to make sure that our team members are meeting their metrics for the quarter”. The man before him appears to be middle-aged, black hair with the sides being a mature gray-color.
“Damn. Are you okay, my dude?” he asks, muting his earbuds. The large man looks down at the massive hole in its chest, “Oh, this? It’s just a flesh wound.”
The man scoffs.
“I bet. Looks like you got blasted by some spaceship or something.”
“If only you knew…”
The man laughs before turning his attention back to his phone . “I don’t mean to interrupt you, Bill but take a look at this guy!” He leans back and moves the camera of his phone more to his left to fit the large man into the frame. There is a mixed reaction from the rest of the participants in the eight-person meeting. One woman with a background effect of a duplex apartment has a look of confusion while also fighting back the urge to snicker. A bald man whose camera is at an angle, so the side profile of his face is captured smiles from ear to ear. One of the participants isn’t even visible on camera as half their face is cut off due to the angle so their reaction is left a mystery.
“Halloween must’ve come early!” says the bald man which causes the entire huddle to pop.
“I like what you did with your eyes!” says the duplex woman, “Where did you get those contacts?”
“That prosthetic looks amazing!”
“Did you make the costume yourself??”
The barrage of responses causes the sheering pain of the cavity to surge through the large man’s body. He grasps at the wound. “It’s…it’s not a costume.”
“C’mon man, really. It’s not a costume?”
“Nope.” the large man says ominously.
“Who are you supposed to be then? The Jersey Devil?” asks the man, only this time he removes one of the earbuds from his ear to better hear the large man next to him. “I’m afraid not. I am not a myth. I’m The Devil.” The man with the phone nearly chokes. “No s**t? You’re the Devil?”
“Hey! Language!” shouts one of the voices on the videocall. It was faint and raspy. “Sorry” says the man, making sure to mute himself again.
“Why yes, I am. Most don’t believe me when I say that.”
“Oh, I bet they don’t.” The man reverts his attention back to the meeting which has turned into the whole team sharing a personal win for the week. “Hey, everyone!” shouts another passing man which causes everyone in the deli to turn and face them. “Look who we have here! The Devil!” Off in the distance, another voice blurts out, “Whose toast landed jelly-side down?” in a sarcastic reference to one of the many supposed beliefs that show the presence of a demonic spirit.
The announcement gets a mixed reaction. Some appreciate the edgy joke while other are appalled at the audacity. The hooded man doesn’t cower from the attention that’s been drawn on him, feeling a sense of power that his name and presence are felt. “Hail Satan!” shouts one voice off in the distance in a low growl followed by a few scattered laughs. The awkward silence is then interrupted by the ‘next!’ from the clerk behind the counter with a look of exhaustion in his face. He’s a heavy-set man with long curly hair kept back in a ponytail. The line then inches forward as the man who ordered the two ribs strolls towards the exit. Up to the counter next is a couple of two women. The meeting is over. “So seriously man, are you some sort of performance artist?”
The large man looks down. “No, I truly am Lucifer, the fallen angel.” The man can’t keep a straight face. “Love the commitment to your act, man.”
“I am being serious! What must I do in order to prove this to you?” The man scoffs again. “You know what you can do? Make this line move faster, man. I got things to do!”
The large man puts his hand on the corporate slave’s shoulder, looking at him deep in the eye. "If I can make this line move, then will you believe me?" The corporate man nods.
Suddenly, the heavy-set man with long curly hair pounds on the counter. Violently.
He starts cursing up a storm, blaming the customers for his problems. He takes off his work shirt and throws it at the women who were at the counter!
Half the crowd scurry away to safety while the remaining patrons take to calm the overworked and probably underpaid member of the workforce. All the pleas fall on deaf ears. They only enrage the man even more who while incoherently screaming, starts breaking the glass cases where all the meat is stored and starts throwing the frozen blocks of hardened flesh. One of the patrons gets a swordfish right through his eye.
The crowd then panics as they all bolt towards the door. The door decides to get stuck again as it refuses to open as rest of the deli staff try to stop the carnage before they too are torn apart by the heavy-set man who seems to be possessed, gaining inhuman strength. The corporate slave watches on in horror, frozen in fear as a behemoth of a man destroys the deli. The panicked crowd uses their combined might to break the door down but it's still stuck. The behemoth then rips the television hanging in the corner which was in the middle of a newscast regarding the hottest summer in New York history.
His screams are getting more guttural.
With little effort, he hoists the television above his head and tosses it at the bundled group of patrons. Some are crushed. The few that are left squeeze through the door and flee to safety and freedom.
The only ones left are the corporate slave and the large man, his arm still on the other man's shoulder. He trembles in fear, managing to veer his eyes over to the demonic figure in his presence. By now, the large man has obliterated everything in sight, pouring grease and oil all over the deli. His screaming has turned from savage to wailing as he grabs a lighter and sets the deli ablaze!
“Who are. …you?”
“I told you – I am Satan. Do you believe me now?”
“Yyyyyyes”
“Good.”
With that being said, the large man disappears like a ghost as the behemoth continues to set the deli on fire, leaving the corporate slave alone, trembling in fear.
⛧
NEW YORK TIMES
Thursday September 1st, 2022
FRANK’S RED HOT DELI SET ABLAZE
A local institution was burned to the ground today.
Michael Criscuola was interviewed by police who confessed that he saw “the devil” upon seeing the deli go up in flames earlier today. According to witness reports, an employee of the 40-year old deli, Angelo Christiano suddenly turned violent and started destroying the deli and attacked the patrons. "It's like he was possessed by a devil or something" said one witness who managed to escape the fiery incident. Both Criscuola and Christiano were taken to a local medical facility and upon recovery, Christiano will be charged disorderly conduct and attempted manslaughter. One patron was stabbed in the eye with a piece of frozen swordfish but thankfully, they survived and pressed charges. When asked for a comment, Christiano was reportedly emotionless.
