It was another day in Hell, with people going on their daily business, as they would normally do on a weekday. In the city square of hell, a group of demons are setting up a camera, with another holding a boom mic, and another demon wearing a sweater over his
shirt tested to see if his microphone is working. Another held a clipboard while looking at the time.
"Everything ready?" he asked, looking at the crew.
"Yeah, everything ready," the cameraman confirmed, before looking at the host. "You ready?"
"Just a sec," the host replied, brushing his clothes before standing in front of the camera,
and nodded. "Ready."
"Alright," the demon holdin
Lionel Thomas sat at his plastic chair nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on the knees of his slacks as he did so.
He hated waiting. He hated the time it took for him to wait, how it added on to his nervousness. He hated
having to sit in this small, poky room, with two sofas on opposite sides, with frigid cold air conditioning,
a water cooler, a coffee table littered with old magazines, and a neglected potted plant on the corner.
He fidgeted with his shirt, fixing and straightening his tie a few times, wiped his damp face, unable and unwilling
to go anywhere until it's his turn.
His throat felt dry. He felt like drinking some water, but