The Jeff Saga – Part Two: Evil Hath Arrived

“Jeff – Part Two: Evil Hath Arrived”
By Dan Cheek
8 November 2006
© Dan Cheek 2006

Sam, Doctor Sanity, and Bob were all sitting at the kitchen table.  Actually, Sam was the only one sitting at the table, the Puppets were sitting on the table.  Sam was visibly upset, having just been informed that the Devil himself was on his way over to kill him and the Sock Puppets.  Doctor Sanity was sitting quietly, nodding as Bob spoke.  Bob was in the process of trying to explain what in the name of Holy Shit was happening.

“It’s like this, Sam,” Bob began, “Jeff and us have a history that goes a ways back.  And, needless to say, he’s not really all that fond of us.  Anyway, we figured he’d let bygones be bygones.  And, for a long time, it looked like he had.  But we should have known better, I guess.”

“What, exactly, did you do to the Devil that has him so upset,” Sam asked.  Doctor Sanity grimaced a little and then looked over at Bob.

Bob nodded silently, cleared his throat, and then answered.  “Well, funny story, actually.  Years back, before we moved in with you, we used to hang out at random shopping malls.”

“You met Satan in a shopping mall,” Sam interpreted.

“You might say that,” Doctor Sanity answered.  “But it was an accident.  One night, just for the sake of doing it, I was attempting to modify a microwave in such a way that it could cook a TV dinner in about half the suggested cooking time.”

Sam was nodding.  “Right.  So this pissed of the Dark Master of Hellfire and now I’m going to burn for an eternity.  Please tell me you were at least able to make the thing work.”

Bob chuckled a little.  The Doctor looked over at him and then back at Sam.  “Not quite.  It didn’t work out exactly the way I had in mind.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in anticipation.  “And how, exactly, did it work out?”

“I accidentally opened a doorway to Hell and sucked the Devil into our world.  Oops.”

Sam blinked and then sat there for a long moment, just running all that back through his head, over and over.  Finally, he opened his mouth and slowly asked, “You were able to open a portal to Hell….with a microwave?”

“I told you I modified it,” Doctor Sanity answered in a calm tone.  “Perhaps, looking back, hooking it directly into the mall’s generator wasn’t the best approach.”

Sam opened his mouth again to say something but Bob stopped him before he could say anything.  “See, Sam,” he began, “All of this is just stuff that we can talk about later.  The bottom line is this; We sucked Satan out of Hell and he didn’t find that at all funny.  We managed to escape last time, but now he’s found us and he’s coming to turn us into screaming piles of ash.”

Lost Cause, now awake after passing out in a panic induced aneurism, came walking into the kitchen and hopped up onto the table.  “So what’d I miss,” he asked.

Bob looked at him, smiled, and said, “Screaming piles of ash.”

Lost Cause went limp as he passed out, once again.  Bob chuckled.  “That doesn’t stop being funny.”  For a second, Sam, Doctor Sanity, and Bob sat there, enjoying the randomness of the moment.  For a split nano-second, they actually forgot about Jeff.

Then the doorbell rang.  Bob looked over at Sam and was able to say the words, “Oh shit.”  Then everything went straight to poop.  Even though they were out in the kitchen, the explosion from the front door was powerful enough to send them all flying.  The living room was toast.  Thick, black smoke was pouring into the kitchen and the smell of burning sulfur was saturating the air.  The room temperature went up, by quite a bit.

Sam was slumped up against a cabinet, which was cracked and splintered from the impact of him being thrown into it.  He was shaking his head, trying to fight through the concussion and figure out what was going on.  All around him, things were broken and scorched.  He saw Bob and Lost Cause, laying crumpled in the corner over on the opposite end of the kitchen.  Broken plates and coffee mugs littered the floor.  The kitchen table was flipped over, slammed up against the far wall.  Sam looked around, eyes watering from the sulfur in the air, and was able to make out Doctor Sanity, laying still under a pile of wood and pieces of what used to be a refrigerator.

“Have any phone company jokes you’d like to make before I melt your face,” a voice asked.  The tone was sharp and calm, yet cold and evil.  It sent shudders through Sam.  Still stunned, he looked slowly around the room, trying to figure out who was talking to him.

“Up here, sweetie,”  the voice instructed.  Sam tilted his head up and locked eyes with a floating piece of torn up cardboard.  Sam shook his head, the image wasn’t making any sense.  He blinked his eyes and then tried to focus them again.  He looked back up at the same floating piece of cardboard.  It was brown and torn up, shaped crudely into the shape of a devil face.  Two jack-o-lantern shaped eyes, a long cardboard nose that looked like it was taped on, and a cut out mouth, which was currently in the shape of a smile.  What the fuck?

The cardboard face narrowed it’s eyes and the smile turned into a scowl.  The thing was floating there, wreathed in a glowing ring smoldering fire, and was about two feet in front of Sam.  “When last we spoke,” the thing began, “You made a wise ass comment.  Something about a phone company, I think.  I don’t know.  I honestly wasn’t paying attention.  Anyway, as I said, do you have any last words before I end this?”

“Y-you’re Jeff,” Sam asked in a painfully weak voice.

“Yup.  And your about to become nothing.  Clear now?”

“W-wait,” Sam muttered, a little drool starting to slide out of his mouth, “How come y-y-yer name’s Jeff and and and not Devil or somethin’ cool?”

Jeff raised one of his eyes in surprise.  “I tell you I’m about to incinerate you to the point of obliteration and you want to ask me about my name?  Mass head trauma must be fun.  Anyway, it’s a fair question, I suppose.  The truth of the matter is that one, I’m the fucking devil and I can call myself whatever I please.  I like Jeff.  Plus it’s easier to spell than Beelzebub.  Heh.  That last part was a joke.  Can I kill you now?”

“I’d hold off on that last part for just a bit longer,” Bob answered.

Jeff, the floating piece of flaming cardboard, turned and looked over at the Sock Puppet.  “And why would I want to do that?  I have all you stupid fuck rags right where I want you.”

Bob cracked his own smile.  “Actually, dumb-ass, you still have one more stupid fuck rag to deal with.”

Bob turned his head and looked over at the doorway that led into the now non-functional living room.  Jeff followed his glance.  Goblin was standing there.  Slightly charred and smoking, but very alert and very pissed.  Sam looked over and thought to himself that he’d never seen Goblin’s eyes glow red before, like they were right now.

A low, yet nasty growl was coming out of Goblin.  It was a deep, penetrating growl.  His eyes were locked on Jeff and his razor sharp teeth were locked shut in rage.  Sam had once joked that “Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Goblin.”  That was about to be put to the test.

Jeff narrowed his eyes and let a tight smile come across his face.  “Heel, puppy.”

Goblin exploded with anger and the battle was on.  As Sam passed into La-La land, he muttered softly, “Give’m Hell, Goblin.”  The irony of the statement was lost on Sam as he slipped into unconsciousness.


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