Little Jonnie stood at the entrance to Hell, bright-eyed and bold as brass. In his left hand blazed a flashlight. In one pocket was a box of matches, in the other were spare batteries for the flashlight.
Lacking maturity and being well-schooled in folly he audaciously demanded an audience with the First of the Fallen.
“Can’t you read?” growled the Gatekeeper Demon in Charge, pointing to the sign.
“Firstly,” responded Little Jonnie, impudence oozing from every pore, “How can I abandon something I never had to begin with? Secondly, how can Hope be abandoned when she already has been left behind in her unbreakable house? And thirdly, I haven’t entered yet, have I? You’re blocking the way.”
The Gatekeeper Demon shook his long, twisted horns with irritation. He didn’t know what to say. He had never before encountered anyone or anything like this impertinent Young Person, so self-possessed and not at all afraid.
“What is the meaning of this, young man?” spluttered the Gatekeeper Demon. None too bright at the best of times, the Demon's perplexity rendered him temporarily incapable of performing his agnostic duty.
“The meaning of which young man?” asked Little Jonnie provocatively.
“You! You, young man! I believe I’m talking to you!!” The Gatekeeper Demon’s coal-black face turned as red as a boiled lobster.
“Believe? Don’t you know for sure?” asked Little Jonnie wickedly.
“Why you cheeky little devil. I’ll show you what for!”
Apoplectic, the Gatekeeper Demon shook with rage as his brain edged closer to total meltdown.
From beyond the Gates, a crowd of lost souls gazed curiously at the unprecedented encounter unfolding before their very dead eyes. Muttering and murmuring in low despondent tones amongst themselves they waited to see what the insolent Young Person would do next.
The Gatekeeper Demon snorted fire from his nostrils, and took a step towards Little Jonnie, harmful intentions written all over his scaly face.
Captivated by these exceedingly unusual events, the lost souls ignored the pitchforks and fiery lashes of the overseer demons, and like heat-stricken zombies amble-shambled ever-closer to the Gates.
And while they were thusly engaged, the First of the Fallen did emerge upon them as a plague of rats, swarming verminously in teeming thousands. The lost souls -- terrified beyond measure, moaning piteously -- huddled in a tight circle while the evil flowed lazily around them and into the spaces between their trembling limbs.
Then the First reincorporated zirself and materialised beside the Gatekeeper Demon, who shrieked with fear and abased himself upon the ground in the presence of his lion-faced Lord and Master.
“What seems to be the problem?” The voice of the First was deceptively mild, as ze gazed upon Little Jonnie, appreciating the unexpected entertainment upon that otherwise hellishly boring day.
“Well sir,” replied Little Jonnie, “I’ve travelled a very long way to speak with you. And I bring gifts for all who dwell in darkness. But this idiot Gatekeeper has been congenitally unable to understand the importance of my mission, and has wasted my time with zir foolish questions.”
“I see,” said the First, enjoying the brazen disrespect shown by this apparently fearless young person with bold eyes still standing just outside the Gates.
“So you wish to speak with me, on your Mission. Of Importance,” said the First, zir patience beginning to evaporate. “You have courage, but clearly lack an instinct for self-preservation. Do you know who I am?”
“Of course, Sir,” replied Little Jonnie, “You am that you am. You are the Father of Lies. the Wrathful. The Jealous. The Demiurge. You are Saklas, the Fool. Your name is Jehovah.”