“What’s the matter, Stevey?” Evy asked from the felt angel she was forming in the thick pile of clothing.

“It’s… nothing,” Steve said, ignoring Burney’s scream of frustration as the tortured soul tried on a hat that failed to survive more than two seconds on his head.

“Good. Because I need you to help me pick out what kind of wings you want. Do you want bright white?” Evy held up a piece of fabric so opalescent it hurt Steve’s eyes. “Or dark white?” The next was the color of an egg. “Or pink?” The next was pink.

“I think I’d like the—” Steve was about to answer when Burney screamed again.

Three cuties approached Burney, tossing fabric at him to try on. Nothing Burney touched lasted long enough for him to actually try on as a costume, and the pile of ashes at his feet was beginning to look awfully sad in contrast to the colorful room.

“What color?” Evy chimed.

“Excuse me a second. Just one second,” Steve said, and walked around the pile of felt.

Burney had just been tossed a dolphin costume, and was staring in horror at its burning remains, when he saw Steve approaching. Burney let out a scream of greeting and let the dolphin turn to ashes at his feet.

“Hi Burney. I’m glad you’re okay,” Steve said, then backed away a step after Burney screamed. “Sorry, Burney. Don’t think I can hug you.”

Burney lowered his head and screamed in reply.

“I’m sorry you’re the only one who doesn’t get a hug here, Burney.”

Burney screamed with his head still lowered.

“What do you mean Gore and Dawn get hugs? They’re here too?”

Burney screamed.

“I don’t think they want to talk to me right now.”

Burney screamed.

“They are?”

“Who’s your friend?” Evy asked as she approached Steve, bearing a pair of crimson wings. “Ooh, I like his costume.”

“Evy, this is Burney. Burney, Evy,” Steve said.

Burney screamed.

“So that makes us Evy, Burney, and Stevey! Yay!” Evy said, and clapped her hands fast enough Steve thought she might vibrate across the floor. “Do you want us to help make your costume even more happy-happy, Burney?”

Burney screamed.

“Burney says he’s not wearing a costume,” Steve translated.

“Well of course he is, silly. He’s wearing a bright red costume like a pretty Christmas light,” Evy said.

Burney screamed.

“Let’s find something to make you even better. Here, Steve, put this on.” Evy dropped a hat on Steve’s head. It was bright red, poofed out like the fuzzy head of a small animal, and had two holes specially made to showcase Steve’s horns. Evy then ran back to the pile of fabric to search for more materials.

Burney screamed.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” Steve asked.

Burney screamed.

“Of course I’m still looking for a sandwich. I’m just… I needed to rest a bit.”

Burney screamed.

“There’s still time.”

Burney screamed.

“Not much time, yes, but… why do you care?”

Burney screamed.

“These people are way too happy,” Steve said, and watched a man with pony ears on his head play cat’s cradle with a thirty year old woman in a tutu.

Burney screamed in reply.

“What do you mean you like it?” Steve said. “Look, I think it’s time we got out of here. If we’re going to get this — hey Evy.”

“I found some nice yellow to go with Burney’s red!” Evy exclaimed, showing Burney a yellow scarf. “Here, try this on.”

Evy tossed the scarf on Burney.

The inevitable happened.

Burney exchanged a look with Steve.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Steve asked.

Burney replied with what in no way sounded like, but was really trying to be, the song the cuties were singing.

“Hmm, I’m going to have to think about this one,” Evy said, observing the ashes of her scarf. “Here Stevey! I found you a happy-happy vest to go with your wings and jacket!” Evy put a golden vest on Steve. It glimmered in the artificial light. “Ooh, it looks so good! Hold on, I need to finish those wings. And I’ve got something for Burney.”

Evy shot out the door like her legs were spring-loaded. She sang as she chased down some form of happy costume for Steve and Burney.

Burney screamed.

“I’m not letting her distract me, Burney. I’m focused. I need to get this taken care of, get the sandwich, start the end of the world. I’m going to go do that,” Steve explained.

Burney screamed.

“You’re right. I don’t have any idea where to look.”

Burney screamed.

“I still have time, Burney, don’t say that!”

Burney screamed.

“Of course I can do it alone. You saw what Dawn and Gore tried to make me do. I’m going to find a way to make this work and I don’t need them. I’ll just… find a way. New Orleans. Dawn mentioned New Orleans. I need to get to New Orleans! They have the best sandwiches there, I’m sure I’ll find one.”

Burney screamed.

“No, I don’t have a car.”

Burney screamed.

“No, I don’t have a lot of money.”

Burney screamed.

“No, I don’t have a good luck charm. Shut up, Burney, I’m going to do this!”

“I found something!” Evy declared from the door to the conference room. There she stood with a large bundle of multicolored wings and a silver halo in one hand, and with the other she pulled the firing mechanism of a small cannon.

The cannon fired, and a rainbow cloud exploded toward Burney, engulfing him in a burst of fireworks. Burney flew back against the wall and made a blackened dent in the formerly white drywall. Before Steve could shout at Evy that she’d shot his friend, he heard Burney’s scream of sheer joy.

Instead of red and orange, his typical colors, Burney was on fire with brilliant blues and greens and purples, a shimmering display that made him scream with wonder at his colorful hands. Steve couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The burning man, his colors swirling and bright, looked almost, well, tame would be the closest thing to cute that this had accomplished, but it was still a respectable improvement over flesh-melting red.

Evy patted the cannon on its smoking muzzle. It was a small cannon, perhaps more akin to a miniature bazooka, and painted bright white and pink like a candy cane. “Our cutie engineers created this for quick happy-happy wall decorations. Works great for last-minute costumes too!” she said.

“You have cutie engineers?” Steve asked.

Burney screamed his approval.

“And look what I have for you!” Evy said. She displayed a pair of shimmering wings, etched in gold and made of hundreds of white feathers. “Aren’t they happy-happy great!”

Burney screamed.

“Okay. Here’s another dose!” Evy shouted.

Evy smiled and fired the cutie color cannon once more. Once more Burney’s face exploded in color, and he was made even more dazzling. The effect improved once Burney got up off the ground after nearly being rocketed out the window. With as much cheer as could be mustered in a painful scream, Burney acknowledged the blast with gratitude.

“That’s it. I’m done,” Steve said. He threw his hands up and walked out of the conference room. “This just got too ridiculous. Burney, you coming?”

Burney screamed.

Steve, hurt by Burney’s words, stopped in the doorway. “Fine. Do what you want.”

Burney screamed at Steve’s back as the half demon walked away. Steve vaguely heard Evy call something back at him, but easily ignored the sound, as Evy shot Burney with the cutie cannon again. Steve made his escape down the hallway amidst the colorful smoke.

“Hey, where you going?”

“Smile, friend!”

“Happy-happy times are… I love you!” were some of the things cuties in adorable costume said to Steve as he passed and, the last one in particular, elbowed out of his way.

Steve checked his watch and wiped the sweat beneath his horns. “Just about ten hours till my third day’s up,” he said, stepping out of the singing path of a group of cuties. “I can still make it before sunset. I can still do this.”

With his head lowered and his nose ignoring the smell of daisies and way too much cookie-scented perfume, Steve made his way through the hotel lobby and out the door. He of course had to duck to get beneath the twisted metal and glass remains of the doorway.

Steve briefly investigated the tank, just in case it might be usable. The interior was covered in black soot from Burney touching some of the more flammable controls. What hadn’t melted had been torn apart from what was obviously Gore’s sword and armor-flailing attempts to escape from the tiny hatch.

Steve shook his head and hopped off the tank. He wondered where Dawn had run off to. There was no sign of the Judge around the tank, leaving Steve to assume she’d leapt off before the panzer hit the hotel. “Avoiding confrontation like always,” Steve grumbled.

The sun shone on the hotel with a spring-like glow that seemed as if the heavens themselves were trying to add to the sing-song atmosphere of the cutie convention. Steve shielded his eyes and walked into the parking lot.

“So now to find a bus or something. Or a car,” Steve said. He looked around, his hand making a visor over his forehead so he wouldn’t be blinded by the adorably shining sun.

The only cars were those sitting in the parking lot, the street and highway dead of activity. Steve briefly considered stealing one of the parked cars. There were moral implications to the action, sure, but even if Steve didn’t have hesitations over whether it was right or wrong to hotwire a car to cause the end of the world, he had no idea how to actually do that. So that ended that train of thought, and he left the parking lot.

The street offered no further help than the parking lot of useless cars. There was no sign of a bus station. There was an airport just down the road, but it was a private airport with nothing but small personal aircraft. Steve had even less hope of stealing a plane than a car. Trains are considered a tool of the liberal media in Arkansas, so that wasn’t a possibility either.

“It’s okay, okay,” Steve said, feeling a strange urge to show a fake smile to the still unwelcome, still too-happy sun. “I’ll just get a ride. Shouldn’t be that hard.”

As if to enforce the absolute wrongness of this statement, an orange pickup truck squealed to a stop behind Steve. Three hard hat-wearing men exited the truck and promptly placed traffic cones across the road, followed by an A-frame sign that read Road Closed. Their task complete, the three highway workers took the keys out of the truck, climbed onto the tailgate, and had a smoke break.

Steve had no idea how long the road would be closed, nor that the union to which these workers belonged demanded a minimum of two-hour smoke breaks depending on the severity of their workload, meaning this smoke break would last two hours, so he continued down the road.

“Maybe they’ll have a good sandwich in this part of town?” Steve chuckled, trying to encourage himself. Aside from the neon lights of a few fast-food restaurants further up the street, Steve couldn’t see a thing.

There was not a sound from the distant, unseen highway. No activity came from the street on which he stood. There was only the singing, a dim but ever-present sound; the happy singing of a thousand cuties back at the hotel.

“You know what, it’s worth it. I’m going to break into a car. And I’m going to figure out how to hotwire it,” Steve declared, walking back toward the hotel. “I’m a demon. I can steal a car. Right? Totally.”

This seemed like a logical theory to Steve. After all, a car was a simple machine, right? All he had to do was break a window, fiddle around for some wires, and the engine would start. That’s what hotwiring was, according to the brief mentioning of the act in an online encyclopedia article Steve had once read. He would have read more details about which wires, but the website demanded he pay ninety-nine cents or buy an annual subscription before he could read the article in full.

Steve didn’t bother worrying about what the car would look like, or whether he thought it would have an alarm. So he stepped toward the first car in the hotel parking lot. It was a blood red sports car with a V-ten engine and spinners on the hubcaps. Steve stepped away from this car, and went to the next one.

The next car was an American sedan. It was plain, simple, most likely cheap, and since it was American, would have much simpler engine starting mechanisms than an import. Smiling at his wise choice in grand theft auto, Steve cocked his hand back and prepared to punch through the driver’s side window.

“No, no, that would be stupid,” Steve said, once more applauding himself for his wisdom. Instead of breaking his hand against the window, Steve looked around for a rock with which to smash said window. While the state of Arkansas might lack in basic resources like suitable farmland or literate children, it possesses an abundance of rocks large enough to shatter the driver’s side window of an American sedan.

Steve collected a sizable rock and hefted it in his hand, preparing to smash it against the window. But as he held the rock back, ready to strike, Steve saw the stains on the steering wheel where a pair of hands had worked grooves into the material. There was an indention in the seat from long use. There was a coffee mug in the cup holder with a few sips of cold coffee still remaining. This was someone’s car. And Steve could see the image of a driver behind that car, an image that wrenched his stomach into a pretzel.

“I can’t… what am I…” Steve said, mumbling as he let the rock fall from his hands. He was too busy focusing on the empty driver’s seat, and the impossibility of what he was thinking about doing, when he realized he’d just dropped the rock on his foot.

Perhaps he screamed a little more loudly than what was needed to express pain from dropping a rock on his foot. But that scream was filled with a bit of anguish as well, a cocktail of emotions in this expulsion of sound that caused him to lose his balance and fall to the pavement. There he plopped onto his rear, clutching his toe and wincing in pain.

“What am I doing?” Steve asked, shaking his head and fighting the urge to laugh with dismay, laugh at his own idiotic self and his senseless condition. “I’m no good at being a demon. I can’t even steal a car.” Steve leaned back and bumped his head against the car he had no intention of stealing. “No good at starting the end of the world either.”

Steve lay there a few moments, collecting his thoughts. He wondered about a lot of things, about where he’d gone wrong. Sure he’d escaped hell, and had been able to lead a pretty respectable life. But in less than ten hours, all that would disappear because he wouldn’t be able to give the antichrist a really good sandwich.

“A really good sandwich,” Steve laughed, still not understanding the insanity of his own words.

And in what was probably one of the few times these words were said and were actually one hundred percent true, Steve muttered, “I should just stay here. The world would be better off if I did nothing.”

Steve thought about the end of the world. He didn’t want it. Who really did? He certainly didn’t want to go to hell, though.

But was he willing to kill people, to break into cars, to harm people, to save himself from going to hell by plunging the world into darkness eternal? It seemed like a lose-lose scenario.

“I can’t do this,” Steve concluded.

And just at the moment that Steve sat down to rest his head against the pavement and let the demons come to drag him back to hell, a multi-colored flame-covered man sat down next to him and let out a scream.

“Burney?” Steve asked.

Burney screamed.

“What are you doing?”

Burney screamed.

“You can go, Burney. Have some fun with the cuties. You don’t have to go back to hell. Only I do.”

Burney screamed.

“I don’t want your sympathy, Burney.”

Burney screamed.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Burney screamed.

“I am not sulking. I’m just in a stupid situation and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Burney screamed.

“Even if there is something I can do about it, I can’t do it. Not alone.”

Burney screamed.

“Well thank you, Burney, but I don’t think even you and I can find the world’s greatest sandwich in less than ten, no, nine hours,” Steve said, checking his watch.

Burney screamed.

“Gore and Dawn don’t want to help me. I’ve screwed everything up.”

Burney screamed.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

Burney screamed.

“Well that’s an optimistic approach. Hooray, I’m doomed. Going to hell in nine hours, so live it up while you got the chance.”

Burney screamed.

Steve frowned.

Burney screamed.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Burney screamed.

“Well if getting sent to hell is what taught you that, I hope I can learn something worthwhile before I go back.”

Burney screamed.

“You’re right,” Steve said, and got to his feet. “You know what? You’re right. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Burney screamed.

“Because that’s what I want to do, Burney. And I’m not going to let the threat of eternal damnation or a jerk angel change that.”

Burney screamed.

“You’re right. I don’t know if I can succeed, or if I can stop this from happening, but I know for sure that I have no hope of doing it alone. Are you with me?”

Burney screamed.

“No high-fiving, Burney, we’ve talked about this.”

Burney screamed.

“Okay, maybe this once.”

And so Steve and Burney ran back to the hotel to search for Gore and Dawn while Steve wrapped his burnt hand with strips of the hat Evy had given him.