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Copyright 1990, David M. Girardot
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Chester sat at his desk half-hidden behind piles of musty
tomes and papers, scribbling furiously on his parchment. As he
wrote, he smiled, wider and wider still, until, halfway through
the page, he was vertibly cackling with glee. You see, he'd just
invented magic.
At last he could stand the excitement no more, and he put
down the quill and sprang up from the chair. "Ahh" he said as
he rolled up his sleeves, "now for a little magic!"
Consulting the formulae he'd just worked out, and making
final adjustments to the spectacles perched precariously on his
beak of a nose, he began. For the first time ever, since the
creation of the world, Magic came.
With a poof of purple smoke, and a soft pop it happened.
Coughing, Chester rushed to the windows to let in fresh air. As
the smoke cleared, he began to smile anew at what he saw. 12
very young, very beautiful, very naked, maidens. The worlds
first magic experiment was a success, and the world would
never be the same.
The news spread swiftly (in no small amount due to Magic
itself) and within a year amateur mages across the continent
of Magentia were practising magic. Magic enfused everything,
the world was becoming a better place, everybody was getting
what they wanted, until...
Everyone had forgotten about Chester (the Magnificent, as
he was now called) after the initial excitement. Which suited
him just fine. He was currently relaxing on a conjured beach-
chair on a conjured beach, on a conjured tropical island,
surrounded by conjured nubile women when it happened.
"Ahem."
Chester looked around lazily. Was Leela anxious again.
Chester sighed, perhaps he'd emphasized a little too much
willingness in that last batch of beaties -- oh well. Then again,
Leela didn't talk in a rough male baritone...
"Hey, mac! Are you Chester the Malignant?"
"Magnificent, " Chester said automatically without really
seeing who he was talking to, when he did he nearly lost his
lunch.
Standing before him dressed in flip-flops, bermuda shorts,
and a very loud Hawaian shirt was the ugliest being he'd ever
seen. The creature was about 5'5" and green, like algae or bread
mold. He had a wide mouth full of needlesharp teeth, currently
crunching a well-chewed cigar. His eyes were bulbous, and glowing
a firey red. What was most disturbing, however, were the two curving
horns protruding from his forehead and the stubby pointed-tail flicking
just behind.
"Mac! I'm talking to you! Are you deaf, or what?"
"D-D-deaf? N-n-n-"
"Great. I got a stutterer. Look, Mac. I gotta delivery ta
make. " The demon handed Chester a clipboard and a writing-
quill, "Just sign here."
"F-f-for what" Chester managed.
"For the horde."
"W-what horde?"
"The demon horde. You get one free with every order--
look you are the one who did all that magic, weren't you? Well,
with every spell, you get a demon horde. Absolutely free. No
charge whatsoever. So sign here, bub."
The demon proferred the clipboard once again and Chester
scrawled his name gingerly.
"W-what do I want with a horde of demons?"
"Hey, Mac, that ain't none of my business, you know? I'm
just a delivery-demon. Off the record-like though, you don't do
nothing with them, they'll most likely do something to you.
Gotta go Mac. Your other deliveries should be ahead in a week
or so, we're way behind schedule down in hell."
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