The scene: A pleasant beach. The surf is quietly rolling in, seagulls can be heard in the distance, and a gentle breeze moves the palm fronds to and fro. And in the midst of this pleasant scene sits Satan. He’s stretched out on a folding beach chair, sipping from a coconut drink he holds in his mighty clawed hand.

Satan (contentedly): Now this is the life.

Satan lies back in his chair with a grin stretched across his face. He finishes his coconut drink, slurping the last bit noisily through the straw, then snaps his clawed fingers impatiently. A few seconds pass. Satan clears his throat, which sounds a bit like feeding gravel into a wood chipper, and lowers his sunglasses menacingly.

Satan (irritated): My drink is empty!

In response Litre Cola comes scurrying out of the jungle, a replacement drink in hand.

Litre Cola: Sorry. The still broke down again. It’s tough to find spare parts on an island, eh?

Satan (exchanging coconut drink glasses with Litre Cola): These things happen. By the way, is my deck waxed? I wanted to catch some waves this afternoon.

Litre Cola: Unsurprised is working on it. He said what you really need is a new board, though. Your hooves have kind of messed up the old one.

Satan (pouting): I like that board! Kelly Slater gave it to me!

Unsurprised (walking up with the surfboard): Huh. It all makes sense now. Anyway, I did the best I could, but that board is pretty much done.

Satan gets up and takes the board in his yuuuuge clawed hands. He towers over Unsurprised and Litre Cola, standing on immense cloven hooves, and his large, leathery wings stretch out menacingly.

Then he grins like a kid in a candy store and races out to the surf to ride some waves.

Satan (as he runs off): Keep my drink cold! I’ll be back in a few hours!

Unsurprised: Man, how did we get ourselves into this mess?

Flashback to: The end of the fabled HRTN Horror Double Feature! The Moosemobile, having crashed through the side of the cabin where Unsurprised, Litre Cola and The Maestro were being held for sacrifice by the Angry Girl Scout, tips and falls into the fiery pits of Hell itself.

Unsurprised (looking over towards The Maestro): So…friends of yours?

The Maestro: They…were…?

Satan clears his throat. He’s looking down at the pentagram which was keeping him contained. It has a big tire mark across it, destroying its power to contain the devil.

Litre Cola: Uh-oh…

Unsurprised: Crap! This is bad, right? I mean, I dated a chick who was into this occult stuff one time, and she told me that you should never cross a pentagram. But come to think of it, she had this huge pentagram around her bed…

Satan: Guys…

The Maestro: Boy, if that’s not a big “Keep Out” sign, I don’t know what is.

Litre Cola: Oh, yeah? How about that gal you were dating who told you she couldn’t have sex because she was allergic, eh?

Satan: Guys!

Unsurprised: You fell for that?

The Maestro: It’s not funny! She got married and died on her honeymoon!

Litre Cola: You mean she was being serious?

The Maestro: No, it was this freak bungee-jumping accident.

Unsurprised (sarcastically): Oh, yeah, that’s a one-in-a-million thing to happen.

The Maestro: Speaking of a million, turns out she was pretty darn wealthy. I heard her husband married a Totronto Argonauts cheerleader a few months later.

Litre Cola: Poor guy.

The Maestro: Right? Those rebound romances never work out, eh?

Satan (in a voice that could shatter stone): GUYS!!!

The Canadian DFOers and Unsurprised (who is neither a Canadian, nor an official DFOer) recoil, their eyes wide with fear.

The Maestro: Crap!

Litre Cola: Double crap!!

Unsurprised: Mother CENSORED ing CENSORED son of a CENSORED ing CENSORED CENSORED !!!

Satan and the Canadian DFOers look aghast at Unsurprised.

Satan: I mean…

Litre Cola: Watch the language there, Unsurprised!

The Maestro: Gee willikers, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?

Unsurprised: Oh, give me a break! We’ve got the Devil himself here ready to chow down on our souls and you guys are getting upset about a few f-bombs?

Litre Cola: More than a few, eh?

Satan: Guys, really, I don’t want your souls. Honest.

The Maestro: You…don’t? How come?

Litre Cola: Yeah, I’m thinking we have darn nice souls, eh?

Unsurprised (disgusted): Guys, could we not talk him into taking our souls?

Litre Cola: I’m just saying, I keep my soul in pretty good condition. It’s a real find, eh?

Satan: I told you before, Hell is overflowing with souls. They’re everywhere. I even offer to let some of them go, y’know…upstairs, but they just think it’s some sort of conspiracy. When did you all get so paranoid? And what in you-know-who’s name is Qanon…?

Unsurprised: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But if you don’t want our souls, what do you want?

Satan: Well, I was telling you about my vacations before, right? And how they’re always interrupted?

The Maestro: Oh, sure. That’s tough, eh?

Litre Cola: Hey, did you want us to help you out with that? Make sure you have a trouble-free vacay? We can do that!

Satan (clicking his large claws together): Why, yes, that’s just what I had in mind…

The Maestro (to Litre Cola): Why are you always such a keener, eh?

Flash-forward to: The present day deserted beach again! Unsurprised is wiping the sand off of Satan’s beach chair and glaring at Litre Cola. Litre Cola is trying unsuccessfully to look completely innocent.

Unsurprised: Oh, yeah. Now I remember…

Litre Cola: Hey, I was just trying to help the guy out! Everyone deserves some fun in the sun!

Unsurprised: It’s been two years!

Litre Cola: We’ve had some good times, though, right? Remember Unguja?

Unsurprised: I remember being chased by a Zanzibar leopard…

Litre Cola: But that was a good thing! Here we thought they were extinct, then all of a sudden one pops up and decides to play with you!

Unsurprised (glaring): I got thirty-two stitches.

Litre Cola: Ah, you Americans. Always so gloomy, eh?

Unsurprised: Look, my point is, he’s never going to be satisfied! We are going to be doing this until we’re old and grey!

Litre Cola (looking closely at Unsurprised’s hair): Grey-er, eh? Looks like you’re getting those distinguished temples.

Unsurprised (smacking the empty coconut drink glass out of Litre Cola’s hand): That’s it! I am done! He can throw me into the abyssal pits of Hell if he wants, but as far as I’m concerned…

There’s a rustling noise from the jungle behind the pair. They turn to look, with Litre Cola surreptitiously taking cover behind Unsurprised in case it’s a leopard.

A figure emerges from the leafy cover. It stops at the edge of the jungle, still shrouded in shadow. Then the figure steps forward with a confident swagger. Litre Cola and Unsurprised gasp in recognition.

JJ Fozz (emerging from the jungle): Now just what in hell are you two dumbasses doing here…?

To be continued…