The Devil was cornered, and a fierce rage began to well up inside him, he knew he could lose, but the game wasn’t finished yet, he had friends in low places and there was no lower place in Hell than the Grand Court of the Grim Reaper.
Down in the darkest depths of Hell, everyone hates the Devil, even old Reaper boy, but the cloaked one never showed it; he just waited for his time with the Dark Lord knowing that sooner or later he would screw up, and no amount of begging would stop the inevitable from happening. It was just a matter of time.
The Devil begrudgingly flicked his wrist and the five lads appeared before the Grand Court. The Court had been styled on the Old Bailey with loads of old wood panelling. Or had the Old Bailey been styled on this Court? Who knew which existed first? But the many differences here showed the boys that they were far away from London.
Packed to the rafters is how the place could be described. Brimming with tortured souls desperate to see five lads burn at the stake because that, and much worse, was what they faced for eternity if they lost their case.
“Burn the witches,” “hang em,” shouted screaming demons, while tiny creatures that Jim Henson could have created, ran amok doing their best to disrupt the proceedings. Peasants and Royalty throughout the ages had queued up for hours in a desperate struggle to bear witness to five simpletons that had dared stand up to the Devil and his manipulative ways. They sat side by side in the gallery throwing rotten vegetables at the lads as they struggled to comprehend such a vile place and witnessing just how disgusting Hell is.
The lads fended off attack after attack of strange bat-like flies that seemed to be attracted to their hairspray, and the rotten egg smell of the place made them all feel sick. It didn’t look good when they saw who was sitting in the Jury box waiting to dish out their fate. Any hope they had shot straight out the window. Every man and woman has the right to a fair trial before a Jury of twelve peers so they say, but this wasn’t going to be fair, not by a long shot. It was as if the Devil had hand-picked the Jury himself. In fact, he obviously had, as twelve exact replicas of himself sat in the Jury box trying to look as unbiased as possible.
Three loud booms sounded, and the court fell silent as a door leading from the Judge's chamber opened and the cloaked one silently glided to his bench. Above his chair sat his family’s coat of arms – a scythe on a background of thunderbolts that had been their emblem since the dawn of time. This didn’t bring much hope to the lads as they stood there, unable to move and knowing the whole case had been rigged against them.
The Grim Reaper sat silent and motionless on his chair, with his dark hood covering his head and face. A bizarre little red creature with big pointy ears and small evil eyes relieved him of his Scythe and he sat facing the lads and the Court without revealing his hooded face.
The lads turned to look at the Jury, then turned to face the Grim Reaper, their hearts sank, and they lowered their heads feeling defeated before the case had even begun.
A group of Mexican bandits who turned up for every trial without fail began shooting their guns into the ceiling and shouting loud gritos in true mariachi fashion. “Arriba, arriba! Ándale, ándale!” echoed around the gallery, but were swiftly silenced by foul demons with electric cattle prods so the Grim Reaper could open the case. The time had begun. The lads could sense it. The Grim Reaper pulled back his hood to reveal himself and a smile erupted on each of the lad’s faces.
All five of them pointed at him with excitement, screaming and squealing with delight, whooping and punching the air with their fists. They had quickly recognised the Grim Reaper and hope had returned to their hearts. This wasn’t any old Grim Reaper, it was THE Grim Reaper from the 1991 movie, Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey, and this Grim Reaper owed them a huge favour.
Do you remember the deal that the lads had agreed to? The ‘Do no wrong, regardless of what fuckery they get up to,’ deal? Well, that deal saved the Grim Reapers' arse big time back in 1990 just after the movie had wrapped filming. As always back in the day, the lads had become an international sensation. Globetrotting in their private jet to every high-class party that was taking place and there was no bigger gig than the after-filming party of Bill & Teds Bogus Journey. Well, the party was in full swing and everyone was enjoying themselves, and the Man with no tan, disappeared only to be found on Hollywood Boulevard with a Hooker in his car by the LAPD. A big no-no for someone in his position. Not only would he have lost all credibility in the Court system of Hell, but he would have lost his health and dental plan as well. So the boys stepped in claiming he was just running an errand for them and the case simply disappeared. In fact, the cops that arrested him even joined in the party with the very Hooker he was found with.
The Grim one claimed he was eternally grateful for what the boys did for him, and they weren’t going to let him forget that he used the word, ‘eternally.’
The Reaper recognised the boys quickly as well, and the shock showed on his face when his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He looked so embarrassed when he remembered what he’d done and placed his right forefinger against his white lips in the hope the boys would take this as a hint to keep a secret.
In a blinding flash of light and smoke, the Devil magically appeared in the Prosecutor’s box with the traditional black gown and white peruke horsehair wig that barristers in England wear in Court. He held the front lapels of his black gown whilst standing on a pile of old legal books so he could see over the brass bannister in front of his desk.
The Grim Reaper spoke to the Devil in a low and authoritarian tone: “And what is the case I'm sitting in today?”
“M’Lud, the case is the heinous crime of attempting to defraud the Devil out of five legitimately acquired souls by means of actually questioning my authority.”
Loud hysterical screams and shrieks echoed around the Court and cries of “Burn em”, and “hang the bastards” preceded baskets full of vegetables and rocks being thrown at the defendants. Even the twelve Devil clones in the Jury decided to join in and began ripping up the wood panelling to throw at them. The lads struggled to fend off the attacks and the Mexican bandits kicked off again shooting bullets into the crumbling ceiling.
“SILENCE!” Boomed the Grim Reaper and the whole Court fell deathly quiet again.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“As you know, M’Lud, a Breach of Contract with the Devil carries a sentence of eternal pain and suffering. I make a move that these proceedings be halted, and my word is taken as the truth.”
The Devil stepped back, confident the Grim one would agree to this as he had done on so many other occasions. Usually when the Grimster had a golf game waiting or an appointment at the dentist or some other shit like that.
“Not today, Mr. Deville. Today we will follow the correct protocols of the Court.”
Displeased with this, the Devil turned to the Jury of clones and winked at them. They knew what they had to do, and the lads didn’t stand a chance.
The Grim one addressed the lads without trying to show that they knew each other. “And who is representing you today?”
Duckegg stood up on the understanding that he alone was their only chance at legal representation. “I am M’Lud. I'm a Solicitor, so I’ll be representing all five of us.”
“Nonsense, only a barrister of high distinction may represent a defence in my Court. I have an idea. I appoint Marcus Tullius Cicero as your defence counsel.”
Duckegg replied, “Would that be the Marcus Tullius Cicero who happened to be a Roman statesman, lawyer, scholar and Academic Sceptic, who played an important role in the politics of the late Roman Republic?”
“It would,” replied the Grim Reaper.”
“The bloke who got beheaded by order of Mark Antony.”
“The very same.”
“Blimey,” said Duckegg.”
The Devil shrieked in fear. “I object! Cicero is a drunk, he will turn this Court into a laughingstock, he’ll make a farce out of these very proceedings!”
It wasn’t because Cicero was a drunk that the Devil objected. Neither was it because Cicero was camper than Rip Taylor. It was because every time he was called to act for a Defendant, he beat him at his own game.
“Objection overruled,” said the Reaper, as the sound of Mexican trumpets and drums heralded Cicero’s arrival.
In strutted a stout, heftily built man with brown, perfectly groomed hair, a fake sunbed tan, manicured nails and a typical Roman nose, and on his face, he wore a large, confident smile. Wearing his favourite toga, he held a goblet of red wine in one hand and the case files secured in two Chanel shopping bags in the other. “Darlings,” he exclaimed, “Sooo delighted to be here.” He took a bow at the front of the Court whilst dozens of bouquets landed all around him and explosions of confetti and party streamers covered everyone in Court including the lads and the Devil. He kissed his own hand and blew the kiss to the Grim Reaper as the Court exploded again, but this time it erupted in shrieks of joy and cheering, which enraged the Devil no end.
Marcus had been for many centuries one of the top celebrities of the spirit world of both Heaven and Hell. Long-time best friends with God until his disappearance and appearing on all the shopping channels and talk shows. He even owned a designer brand of Togas and sandals that never went out of fashion in Heaven. The Grim Reaper had just stacked the odds in the lads’ favour and the Devil was curious as to why.
Marcus walked over to the lads in the dock carrying large bouquets and plonked them down onto the floor when he got to them.
“Darlings, try not to worry too much, I'm on the case, and I’ve been here before.” The lads weren’t very reassured that this was the best defence barrister, but he was all they had so they played along and nodded. Marcus laid out the case files on his desk and addressed the Grim Reaper.
“M’Lud, this case is a travesty of justice. Clearly, the defendants were under the influence of drink and drugs at the time of the signing so how can they be held culpable?”
The Devil stood up and presented to the Court with the document signed in the blood of each defendant, then slammed it down onto his desk with a great deal of anger.
“M’Lud, each of these disrespectful, dishonest defendants was indeed under the influence of both drink and drugs which they had willingly taken before one of them persuaded them all to make a call to me and asked me to make a deal. I didn’t call them, they called me whilst already under the influence. Now the question has to be asked, is a contract valid if it is signed whilst drunk or otherwise impaired? The answer is usually ‘no’, but unfortunately for the defendants, as with most things in the law, the answer is not as straightforward as a simple yes or no. This is because the law seeks to balance the interests of the drunk contract signer against the rights of the presumably sober second party to the contract. Would it be fair, or in the interest of public policy, to allow everyone to escape any contract simply by claiming they were drunk at the time of making it? Of course not. I put to the Jury that there is no worse crime than breaking a deal with the Devil, and for this, they are guilty and should burn.”
All twelve clones of the Devil applauded this observation. Even the Grim Reaper was impressed, but Marcus countered with: “A fabulous little speech from my learned friend there, but under the law, contracts require a few things to be created in the first place. Specifically, there must be an offer by one party which is accepted by the other. Both parties must agree to the material terms of that agreement often called a ‘meeting of the minds’, and there must be an exchange of something of value often called ‘consideration’. Moreover, the terms of the agreement need to be sufficiently clear and definite, so the court has a way to enforce them. If a person was drunk or impaired at the time of entering into a contract, there may not have been a “meeting of the minds” as the drunken party may have been incapable of understanding to what he or she was agreeing. Now as the Court papers show, with video evidence recorded by the Devil at the time of signing, the Devil was fully aware that the defendants were severely impaired through drink and drugs. In fact, they were so impaired, it was impossible to create a “meeting of the minds.” Therefore, not only is the contract null and void, but the Devil is the guilty one here for attempting to mislead the Court and should burn in the defendants' place.”
“Burn him.. burn him.. burn him,” shouted his clones, only to be silenced when the Devil turned towards them. On seeing his expression, they shrank back into silence and waited for the inevitable punishment. It came swiftly. With an angry flick of his wrist, a powerful bolt of lightning vaporised them, leaving nothing but smouldering ashes where the jury box once stood.
Turning to the Reaper, the Devil said, “M’Lud, with the sudden and unexpected departure of the Jury, I pass a motion that I and I alone should decide the defendants’ fate”.
“That’s not going to happen today, Mr. Deville, I’m going to make an executive decision based on the fact that you have just killed the Jury and the only impartial verdict can come from myself. I’ve given this much thought and have taken into consideration your arguments in the Court that the defendants have received the forty years of fame ultimate package but also that much confusion surrounds the actual signing. Therefore, I wish to suggest a deal that I strongly advise both parties to agree to.”
The lads leaned forward, desperately hoping that the deal did not mean an eternity of torture and torment. Marcus also leaned forward, hoping his unblemished reputation against the Devil in Court would not be tarnished by a defeat. The Devil leaned forward in the hope that he would be barbequing the lads for dinner.
Addressing the lads, the Reaper said, “Mr Deville is claiming that if it wasn’t for him and his contract, you would never have become famous, so I want to know before I decide, whether or not you could have become famous on your own merits. You will go back in time to the point where you made the deal with the Devil. You will continue your lives from that point onwards as your younger selves, with the skills and talents that you had at that point. I will give you twelve months to win a recording contract, or your souls will belong to him for an eternity. However, as with all cases like this, if you discover within your twelve months, the key that unlocks everything, you gain your souls back without having to win a recording contract. Case adjourned for twelve months.”
“Wait”, shouted Duckegg, “what key?”