I sighed. I felt like I’d been doing that a lot since I walked into the Burger Baron and started chatting away with the joint creators of my universe. It was some pretty heavy subject matter, and the fact that I seemed to be the focal point of all of it made it that much more difficult to process.
“Okay,” I said carefully. “So let’s say I agree to this.”
“But you have to!” God interrupted earnestly. “You just have to!”
Lucifer put a calming hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to,” he told me. “We’re not going to force you to do anything. But you’re the right man for the job and a lot of planning went in to getting this far.”
“Let’s say I agree to this,” I repeated. “So you’ll give me this spell, I take it back to Hell, walk up to the sealed entrance of the tunnel to Heaven, cast the spell on it, and it pops open?”
They both nodded. “Pretty much,” they chorused.
God gleefully called out, “Jinx! You owe me a Coke!”
Lucifer scowled. “Oh, grow up, man. You’re revered around the world as a creator and a source of goodness. You can’t act like this.”
“Who says a god can’t be fun?” God said defensively.
“That wasn’t fun so much as cringe-tastically dorky,” Lucifer shot back.
“Can we, um, stay on point, please?” I asked.
They turned back to me attentively. “Sorry,” God said. “Of course. Do go on.”
“So I open this door,” I continued, “and then what? Do souls just go flying out on their own?”
“Once both ends of the passage are clear, the previous parameters of Hell should kick in immediately,” Lucifer told me. “Once the required length of a sentence has been reached, the soul will be sucked out of Hell through one of the tunnels.”
“Sucked?” I said.
He grinned. “They go flying across Hell like they’re magnetized to it and then they get sucked up to Heaven just like one of those pneumatic tubes they use in bank drive-throughs. It’s really something to watch.”