15. Ode to Madeline: I Will Have My Revenge!

Ode to Madeline: I Will Have My Revenge!

Dear Diary,

Fuck Madeline.

Fuck Madeline. Kill Madeline. Throw her in a tub of premium-grade acid. Kung-fu kick her in her stupid face into the tub of boiling acid. Slam-dunk Madeline with tons of Samsung fridges in a truck carrying Samsung fridges. Stir-fry Madeline’s flesh with a traditional oil-coated wok from Shanghai. Maul Madeline with vicious, bloodthirsty Hellhounds purchased from the Flesh Store™ at the cheap, cheap price of 100K souls. Twist her fuckass braided hair off until she looks like one of those cancer-kid-patient ads. Cremate her in the embrace of Hellfire, fresh from the boiler of Mr. Morningstar’s finest boiler room. Catapult her ass to Brazil. Vapourize her with the mighty power of the sun until she understands the PAIN SHE CAUSED MEEEEEE!!!!!

I HATE MADELINEEEEEEE!!!!

I HATE HER! I HATE HER! I FUCKING HATE HER!!!!!

NOT EVEN A TAYLOR SWIFT HATER CAN OUT-HATE MY HATE FOR MADELINEEEEEE!!!!!

AND IN MY DIARY, I CAN SWEAR AS MUCH AS I WISH, MADELINE! YOUR DUMBASS RULES CAN’T STOP ME! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ha.

Okay, anyway. Just gotta get that out of my system real quick, you know? Destressing. Very necessary when you’re dealing with an “Avenger-level threat” of a woman.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. How can poor Mr. BP escape the evil, evil witch Madeline?! I know, I know. I, too, hate the way she thinks that she can CONTROL me, the best, most greatest, most charming, most handsome BIRTHDAY PLANNER! That is why, right now, at exactly 12:00 AM, midnight, I will KILL her!

Muahahahahaha!!!!!

And check this out! I got a TTI JW2 Combat Master Package, a.k.a. the Glock 34! Widely regarded as an affordable and DEADLY handgun! It features:

1. Matte Black Slide Finish

2. Bronze Coated Barrel

3. Timney Alpha Competition Trigger

4. 100% Anti-Madeline Special Feature!

And guess what? I’m standing outside her bedroom right now! Oh, boy, look at the evil, merciless Madeline! She’s snoring away peacefully, dreaming dreams of BURNING me alive! How utterly evil! I never, ever would have thought that HUMANS are SOOOOOO evil! Ugh! It just tickles my nerves!

Wait, do I even have nerves? I never actually checked.

Anyhoo.

I slowly, slowly crawled to her bedside. Muehehehehe… You know why? Because I want to SEE her DEAD, DEAD face when I SHOVE this GLOCK inside her MOUTH! MUHAHAHAHA!!! Oh, my heavens, the white-blue radiance of the moon has blessed me with a renewed vigor, shining through the windows to illuminate Madeline’s FINAL MOMENT! Ohohohohohoho… I should write a poem about this! Okay, let’s think of a name. Hmmmmmm… Maybe…

“Ode to Madeline?”

YES!

IT’S PERFECT!

‘Cuz only DEAD PEOPLE have odes written for them!

AND I’M ABOUT TO TURN HER INTO ONE!

Okay, focus. Let’s do this!

But then, she made a sound. “Hic.”

So, I dashed back with SONIC SPEED! Holy! I did not expect her to be awake! Oh, no! She will BURN me if she sees me!

“Hic.”

Okay, but like: Why is she making that sound? Her eyes are still closed! And it looks kinda wet… Uh…

Oh.

She’s crying.

Tch. Shit.

Man! She’s such a baby! Twenty years of age and still wetting her bed with tears from a wet dream! Ugh! She’s done this so many times! Here, I’ll show you a diagram of Madeline’s crying rate.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ETH5DJR.jpeg]

It’s increasing exponentially! How?!

Anyway, she’s sobbing really badly. Like, full-on waterwork. Hugging her pillows and shoving her face deep inside them. God, I feel bad for the pillows; they’re getting wet all over.

I hate it.

I hate tears.

BUT!

SOME CRYING WON’T STOP ME!

HERE WE GO!

BOOM!

“Bang!”

…

Oh, my god. The bullet just ricocheted off her face. And went out the window.

Uh…

ONE MORE TIME!

“Bang!”

It grazed her nose, THEN ricocheted through a bedside lamp into the wall.

ONE. MORE. TIME!

“Bang!”

It bounced off of her like an inflatable bouncy castle.

FUCK!

HOW?!

HUMANS AREN’T BULLET-PROOF!

SHE’S FUCKING CHEATING!

Okay, okay. Calm down, me. I am the smartest, most handsome B-day Lover of all time! I should be able to figure this out. Let me put on my thinking cap. Hmmmm…

MORE THINKING LATER

…

…

Tch.

Come on, pick up.

Come on…

“Ring, ring, ring…”

“Click!”

“Hello! Your call has directed you to the Diptera Casino Pleasure House, a five-star resort on the edge of Hell, providing luxurious indoor lava pools and fiery lakeview cabins! My name is Cassandra, the Receptionist Demon! How may I help you?”

HELLOOOOO! CAN YOU HEAR ME OKAY?!

“Oh, gosh! You scream louder than the humans when we butcher them for in-room breakfast service, sir! How may I help you?”

Can I speak to your boss?

“Do you have an appointment scheduled, sir?”

Nah.

“Um… I’m so sorry. You see… Mrs. B is a busy woman.”

Cassy… Listen. I’m in some deeeeeeeep shit right now. I will need you to cooperate with me, and we can make this work! Alright? Now where’s YOUR DAMN BOSS?

“Ummmm… Please don’t raise your voice, sir. I can hear you quite fine!”

YES, SO WHY DON’T YOU GET YOUR ANNOYING-ASS BOSS ON THE LINE?!

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

“I told you, sir. Mrs. B is busy.”

WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING?!

“Dinner, maybe? Sir, I really don’t know.”

Goddamn glutton… I KNOW that’s her whole shtick, but like, CAN SHE NOT?

“Sir, you’re being awfully rude! We’re all damned sinners of Hell, but try to have some decency!”

Please just get Beelzy on the line for me. Pretty please, Cassandra, the Receptionist Demon?

“Wow. No one ever said my whole title like that before. Thank you, sir! I’ll try my best! Please stay on the line for a couple more minutes!”

“Click!”

… Shit.

AND MR. BP STAYED ON THE LINE LIKE A DUM-DUM. SEVERAL MORE MINUTES PASS

“Click!”

“Hello? Helloooo? Your call has directed you to the founder, owner, and C.E.O. of Diptera Casino Pleasure House. I am Beelzebub. And needless to say… YOU better not waste my time, punk!”

BEELZY! I MISSED YOU SOOOOOO MUCH!

“Oh. It’s you.”

Beelzy, Beelzy! I NEED your expertise on something!

“What do you want at THIS hour, BP? I have dinner, you know?”

Oh, cooooome on! YOU know DAMN WELL we don’t have clocks in Hell!

“Good point. But your punk-ass murderous trigger-happy energy is INTERRUPTING my DINNER!”

OHOHOHOHOHO! I CAN “INTERRUPT” AS MUCH AS I WANT! UNTIL I GET WHAT I WANT!

“Oh, okay. Bye, then.”

NONONONONONONO! I’m sorry, Beelzy! I’m sorry! Really sorry! I really, really, DO need your help! PLEASE! HELP ME!

“Okay, okay. Jesus. What the hell does your punk-ass want?”

Also, you still owe me 20 souls.

“Fuck off.”

YOU DO!

“Signing off! Bye, weirdo.”

PLEEEEEEEEASE!!!!!!

“Nah, just kidding. Lol. It’s kinda nice to talk to you after so long. Speaking of… Where’ve you been? Usually, by this hour, I would hear you torturing the locals with razors and chainsaws.”

Yeah… Well… It’s a long story.

“Make it quick, then. Four words.”

FOUR?

“Yep.”

Uhhhhhh….

Girl. Blood Contract. Me trapped.

“That’s five words, you funky idiot.”

I’M DESPERATE! PLEASE HELP MEEEEEEEE!!!!

“Okay, but actually, though? Is this ‘girl’ human?”

Yes.

“Wooooooooow… I never thought I’d see the day. Bested by a human? You sure fell off, BP. Lol.”

Shut the fuck up!

“Chill, dude! Hahaha! Anyhoo, she got you to sign a Blood Contract, eh? You’re so fucking dumb, bro.”

URRGHHHH!!! JUST LET ME ASK MY QUESTIONS!

“Sure. Go.”

How do I KILL my contractor of the Blood Contract?

“Bruh. Haven’t you paid ANY attention in school?”

Nope. I was throwing erasers at Jelly Levy with a Roman catapult.

“Oh, yeah. Levy. Wonder how she’s doing?”

My question first, please.

“Oh, yeah! Sure. So, there is this cool thing called ’Contract Restriction.’ I bet your dumbass can’t even spell that.”

R-e-s-t-i-c… Yeah, no. I can’t.

“Classic BP. Anyway, the Contract Restriction will, unsurprisingly, ‘restrict’ a contractor from killing their partner in the deal. It works for both sides.”

Ohhhhh… So THAT’s why the bullet bounced off…

“How did you not know this? It’s like basic Contract Making 101.”

Well… I FORGET sometimes, duh.

“Yeah, I overestimated your intelligence.”

Technically speaking, I never had to kill my contractors, BUT this one’s a special occasion!

“More questions? Haaaaaa… I’m getting hungry. I wanna binge…”

YES! Why do I get burned with Divine Flame per the Blood Contract’s punishment?

“Wait a damn sec—WHAT?”

Yeah! Divine Flame! You forgot what it is? Ha! So I’m not the only—

“BP! WHAT THE FUCK?! DIVINE FLAME??????”

What the hell, Beelzy? So I make mistakes sometimes. But so what? It wouldn’t hurt—

“Broooooo… This dude cannot be serious right now... HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD YET?”

"Whatchu mean?"

"It's the motherfuckin' DIVINE FLAME, punk! The holy fire that purifies and incinerates any and all that have SINNED against GOD. BP, you FUCKING DUMBASS! This shit can KILL us! PERMANENTLY!"

Eh. I'm feeling fine so far. It's just a little warm, y'know?

"Stop fucking lying, punk! Just WHO is this human girl? How is she burning you with DIVINE FLAME????!!!"

Okay, okay, okay! I’m not THAT dumb. It’s “Soul Essence,” right? If one contractor breaks the contract, there will be punishments! These punishments will vary based on the other contractor's Soul Essence. Like that time I made a contract to buy you a smoothie, and in return, you would buy me soda. But when I FORGOT to get your stupid smoothie, flies and roaches got all over my shit!

“You still owe me a smoothie.”

And YOU owe ME 20 SOULS!

“Fair.”

Soooo… What’s the difference this time? Why am I BURNED with those pesky flames?

“Two things. First: the human girl got your ass, BP. A normal contract, like that smoothie contract, only lasts for a lifetime. That’s why it’s encouraged to make deals with crusty, old humans, since you’ll reap your end of the deal much faster. However, a Blood Contract will last ETERNALLY, EVEN after death. You’re SCREWED, punk!”

Fuck you. I know! Sniff… I know…

“And the ONLY trade you can offer in a Blood Contract is the SOUL and the BODY, two most precious things to any being. So, by signing that contract, your demon soul and the girl’s human soul are LINKED. Forever unto eternity.”

Sniff… Stop making me feel bad! Sniff…

“Second: I don't know how, but this girl's Soul Essence has conjured the Divine Flame as your punishment.”

Hold on... I just remembered... Isn't the Divine Flame a GODLY magic?! Which means: Only the Big Man of the Sky can use it! A MERE human can’t use it!

“Yes and no. God can grant power to those He chooses, like—”

Don’t say that name.

“What?”

Please. Don’t say it.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Yeah… It’s okay. Continue, please.

"The good news is: This Divine Flame is yet weak; it isn't strong enough to kill you because, well, you're still here. It will hurt, yes, but you'll be alive."

Nice!

“But you're still fucked in every way possible. You can’t kill the girl. Why? Because the contract actively restricts you from doing it. And even if you succeed in killing her, it’s pointless, ‘cuz Blood Contracts last forever, and she can still burn your punk-ass when she’s a ghost.”

Damn. What should I do?

“Dunno. This girl got families? You can try torturing them. Make her life miserable.”

Nah. Been there. Done that. I killed them all. Chopped and sliced!

“Huh. I’m not surprised.”

Oh, WAIT! She has a KID! YESSSSS! Hehehehehehehe…

“Oh, good. Back to child-killing, I see. Classic BP.”

Thanks so much, Beelzy! I owe you tons!

“Sure. Is it paying off my debt of 20 souls, though?”

NO! I WANT MY MONEY!

“Bye! I gotta go binge. See ya! Oh, oh! One more thing!”

What?

“If all else fails, find where the human girl learned to make contracts. And find a way to SEVER the contract.”

Hmmm… Not a bad idea. Is it even possible, though?

“Eh. Who knows? Bye!”

“Click!”

☆☆☆

Dear Diary,

Beelzy has given me a FANTASTIC idea! It’s 1:00 AM right now, and I am EAGER to munch on some KIDS’ FLESH!

Asha!

That’s right!

Twelve years after Madeline RUINED MY LIFE, she spawned an ugly, malformed kid! And just like her mother, Asha has STUPID-LOOKING green eyes! URGHHH!!! I HATE GREEN EYES! JUST LIKE I HATE MADELINE! Actually, I HATE ANYTHING that looks like her!

I just peeked a little in her room, and let me tell you, it’s horrible! Asha’s bedroom is atrociously small, fashioned with bunny decorations. Damn, this stuff looks cheap as hell. Bunny posters, bunny slippers, and even bunny-themed notebooks! So CHEAP! I hate it!

I’m standing outside right now, and I bet she is sleeping peacefully in the confines of her bunny bed. I can just hear her SCREAM in PAIN when I TEAR HER SKULL OPEN with this HAND DRILL! Muahahahahaha! I’m an EVIL GENIUS! Pol Potty and Shitler should BOW BEFORE ME!

HERE I GO!

BOOM!

I kicked the door down with mighty force. And, uh, wait… She’s not sleeping.

SHIT!

“Oh?” She turned around with a controller in her hands. “Hey! You’re the bad birthday guy!”

Should I say something??? Shit. Hold on. Lemme put this diary down. I need to think! THINK! Oh, I know! Let’s improv this bitch! YES! Good idea!

Bye, Diary! I promise to make you proud!!!!

Sincerely,

BP.

The Best Birthday Planner of All Time.

P.S. Screw quotation marks. I’m not putting any of them in MY speech!

☆☆☆