It was cactus day in hell.

“Howdy pardner.” said Mike, tipping the brim of a white ten-gallon cowboy hat that had been modified to allow the demon’s large black horns to protrude through.

“Hi diddle hi dee-dee.” answered the Reaper as he exited a particularly boring meeting on the bridge, tipping his own cowboy had in return. His motorized circular-saw spurs spun silently at 2000 rpm as he walked, putting anybody who happened to cross Tenek’s path in the infirmary.

“How’s the budget? Did we ever find those missing receipts from the orbital-” Mike started cheekily.

“Don’t fucking ask me about the budget.” Tenek snapped. “I’ve just spent the last four hours answering questions about the budget!”

“Sounds like you need yerself a lovely lady-friend.” Mike pantomimed firing finger guns, speaking in an accent that would never remotely resemble that of an early 1800s American cattle rancher.

“Yeppur.”

“Y’ever find yerself back Earth-a-ways?”

“I swore I’d never return. But I’ve been writing plenty of fan fiction about it, and I think I know a bit more about why I failed.”

“Naw pardner, that ain’t gonna cut the beef.”

“Yee haw.” the Reaper admitted sullenly.

The doors to Tartarus opened, revealing the festive interior.

Tantalus stood in his usual pool, while a buxom demonoid crouched on the diving board, jiggling a pair of juicy barrel cacti just out of his reach.

“Just… one… more… little… bit!” He grunted grasping as far as his fingertips could manage.

“Synthia!” Tenek groaned. “That’s not how you do it!”

“What d’you mean?” the chipper little hellspawn chirped, with an accent somehow even faker than Mike’s.

“Tantalus is hungry and thirsty (and horny)! He doesn’t give a fuck about a fucking cactus! You’re supposed to fucking thrash him with it, just like all the other prisoners!”

“Then why does he keep desperately reaching for it?” Synthia asked.

“Because he’s fucking with you. Every second you spend not thrashing him with it is a second that he isn’t being tortured!”

“Oooooooh! You naughty naughty man!” Synthia answered, giggling at Tantalus, who stuck his tongue out mischievously.

The reaper groaned. “Here, hand me that. Let me show you how it’s done.”

“Whoa! The head honcho, gettin’ his hands dirty with the hired help!” Tantalus mocked.

“I’ve spent years working every role aboard this ship, as a leader should.” the Reaper answered stonily. “I know how to make you scream.”

“But is that why you’re here?”

“He’s here to ask about Earth.” Mike spoke up unhelpfully.

“No, that can’t be. I thought the mighty reaper of worlds wasn’t gonna be going back to Earth after he-”

“Stop!” bade the reaper, holding out one hand that commanded the largest army in the universe.

“-bombed a retirement home, right?” Tantalus prattled, completely undeterred.

“It wasn’t a retirement home! It was-” Tenek glanced at Synthia. “It wasn’t a retirement home.” he repeated, speaking directly to her. “It was just one house, that just happened to have two old people inside! An unfortunate accident! That’s all!”

“A retirement home? Tenek, how could you!” Synthia gasped mockingly. “My oh my I thought the leader of hell would have higher ethical standards!”

“I do! Normally!” the Reaper wept. “But I made a mistake! I didn’t allocate enough brainpower to the task, and innocent archaehumans died!”

“That’s not right.” Mike shook his head.

“You’re right, Mike, it’s wrong. And that’s why I’m never going back to that planet. I’ve taken enough from it!”

“No, sire! I meant - you didn’t kill any archaehumans! Have you not reviewed the tapes from your last outing?” Mike asked.

“What? What do you mean? I distinctly remember wiping out two elderly life forms that were in that house!”

“They were mice, sire. MICE. The tapes clearly show that the archaehumans were unharmed… by your bomb at least.”

The Reaper dropped his cactus, stunned by the news. Tantalus quietly swam over to the cactus, picking it up and gleefully prodding the spines with a finger. Synthia rushed over to try and rip the cactus out of his grasp, but the ever-seeking Tantalus would not be denied his prize. He twisted to one side, and with a small scream, Synthia fell into the pool. A small spray of water hit the prisoner in the mouth.

“Hey! This is just pool water!” Tantalus exclaimed.

Then Synthia resurfaced. Somehow, incredibly, her shirt had gotten ripped to shreds by the cactus, exposing her ample cleavage.

“Forgive me lady, but I’ve gotten everything else I ever wanted today… so why not you!” Tantalus yelled, his hands arcing towards her with the aerodynamic mastery of an aroused dolphin.

*SLAP*

Llathorpharaos looked over at the hula girl on his desk. For just an instant, he could have sworn he saw it move.

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Tantalus cried and clasped his inflamed cheek. “So sorry, your madamship, I have no idea what came over me!”

“Well I’ve got a pretty good idea. You men are all the same!” Synthia huffed, and took her leave.

“She’d better find a shirt before some rookie breaks his neck to look at her.” Mike murmured.

“So, you wanted some relationship advice?” Tantalus piped up.

“Seriously?! After what I just saw, you should be in jail!” Tenek exclaimed, then groaned and slapped his forehead.

“Tell me, o reaper, do you drink coffee?” Tantalus asked enigmatically, holding his cactus up to his face like a Shakespearian actor holding a skull.

“Yes, of course I do! Everybody drinks coffee!”

“I don’t.”

“Everybody who isn’t locked in a kiddie pool drinks coffee!”

“Do you have one of those trendy coffee mugs, say, ‘advice from an eagle?’”

“Of course! Mine is ‘advice from a sea lion’. I like it because it reminds me to ‘keep your whiskers clean’, and ‘let troubles roll off your back’.”

“Tell me, my dear reaper. If one were to ask this cactus for relationship advice, what do you suppose it would say?”

Tenek cupped his hand to his ear. “Not much that I can hear.”

“Now now, don’t be gauche.”

Tenek pondered for a moment, taking inspiration from the shape of the cactus, its

“I’ve got it!” Mike announced:

Grab Life By The Thorns

Tenek instinctively backed up a step.

“Hold on now, we’ve already been through this advice, and I already know where it leads. Besides - why would a cactus want you to grab it?! I thought the whole point of the thorns was to deter you from grabbing it!”

“Hmmm, fair point.” said Mike as he returned to his rumination.

“Get Plenty Of Sun.” Tenek suggested.

“You could use a tan… but I don’t know how much that’ll help.” Tantalus mused.

“Stay True To Your Roots.” Mike interjected.

“Not bad, but not quite applicable here, since our reaper here is attempting relations with a different species.”

Finally, Tantalus snapped his fingers:

Don’t Be Too Prickly

“...I like it.” Tenek decided.

“Of course, a real cactus wants to be as prickly as possible.” Mike added.

“Yeah, but in terms of applicability to our situation, it’s the best weak pun we’re likely to get.” Tantalus said.

“I concur. But there’s one fundamental, underlying problem…” the reaper began, “It’s that, regardless of how good your advice is, when I dial my brainpower back, It always gets distorted beyond recognition. So if I head out there with pricking on my mind, I’m liable to find the nearest steak knife and go on a random stabbing spree!”

“So, don’t dial your brainpower back.”

…

“I won’t.”

“Really?” Tantalus asked, surprised.

“I mean, I will. But less than last time.”

Tantalus waved his hand in annoyance. “You never learn.”

* * *

Tenek, the Rapier (noun, not adjective) sauntered down the dockside boardwalk, his hips swinging wildly to convey dominance and to accentuate the hilt of his thirsty blade, daring any passerby to test his patience. He donned a wide tri-pointed black cap with a skull and crossbones on the front, a flashy multicolored vest, and expensive breeches. Pedestrians avoided his gaze, sometimes after rolling their eyes. And though his blade stretched for their throats of its own accord, Tenek held his fiery temper in check. There was a different thirst that he was even more desperate to slake.

Finally, one of the women in a dockside shop had the misfortune of catching his eye, and without hesitation he swooped in, like a vulture on carrion.

“Avast, ye wench-lassie!” he greeted her. “Me bloodied blade hast taken a liking to ye. An’ I ain’t talkin’ about me sword!”

As Tenek paused, trying to figure out what the fuck he was talking about, a much larger gentleman, obviously paired with the lady, turned around to face him. They shared a brief, concerned conversation in a language Tenek didn’t understand - until he caught a piece of familiar dialect, and a cold wave of panic hit him.

Italians.

He staggered away from the couple, wished them a lovely rest of their day, and tiptoed back the way he had come. He cast quick, fearful glances about and confirmed the worst. The dark hair, the olive skin tone, the flowing speech…

More Italians. I think… they’re all Italians!

Tenek breathed heavily, his adrenaline kicking in. He wasn’t ready for this. He could barely muster the courage to speak to a woman, and he was supposed to compete against Italians?!?!?!? The legendary seducers of yore?!?!?

Feh.

The reaper mucked around aimlessly, lolling and gagging as he pleased.

I should head back now…

“Ahoy, me matey!”

The voice came from behind him, cutting through the background like an english knife through italian bread.

“Yo ho!” Tenek replied, catching sight of the man. The swashbuckler wore an eyepatch, a salt-encrusted collared shirt, and the cheapest of boots. A true sea dog was he.

“Don’ tell me tha wimmenfolk hereabouts be giving ya trouble!” he bawded incredulously.

“Aye, matey., it do be” Tenek admitted.

“Bah! No better place to learn! Cast yer eyes about, and see!”

Tenek looked about, and saw.

Another swaggering ruffian patrolled the streets, just as the reaper had done previously. He wore a purple felt cap with a long peacock feather poking out, the frumpy robes of a noble, but the duelling sword and pantaloons of a ready combatant.

A beautiful woman with long, flowing brown hair passed in his direction, and without hesitation, he approached, babbling something incomprehensible.

“...like a gorgeous mountain flower on a sunny hillock.” Tenek’s scurvy dog translated.

“...simply must have your hand, if but for a night.”

The woman drew the hand in question back and smacked the man in the face with a disgruntled hmmph. But before she could put it away, the man took it in his own, and kissed it.

The woman shouted in indignation, but she didn’t run - she allowed the hooligan to continue talking, wearing her down with compliment after compliment.

“Y’see, m’lad…” the englishman said, “his outfit do much of the talking ‘fer him. A normal-dressed lad would ne’er be able to compliment a woman so many times and get away with it! ‘Eed be branded a simp - or worse - a cuck!”

“But what exactly does his outfit do? He looks out of place.” the reaper asked.

“That man’s garments say one thing - danger! Therrz a man who can handle a fight! Or so he would have you think… but with enough confidence, ‘e pulls it off! And therrrrrrrrrrr! Look yarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

The woman allowed her hand to be taken by the strange man’s, and they walked off together, to enjoy a magical day.

“Succinct.” Tenek summarized. “You don’t need to write a book for them, do you?”

“Nay.” the pirate shook his head.

“Thank ‘ye, stranger. Yerrrrrr’ve help me more’n ye could know.” the reaper said.

“Here! Before ye go! A charm ferrrrrr gittin the wimmin!”

The mysterious man held out a necklace made of limes.

“It also keeps pirates away.” the man said, leaning in and laughing.

“Yo ho ho!” the reaper shouted, donning the item.

“Yo ho ho!” the man responded.

But their interaction could last no longer.

With an expert twist of his torso and a flick of his wrist, Tenek perfectly fit himself inside a femtosecond-occurrence wormhole, and away he went.

He never saw the pirate’s reaction, of course, but he imagined it was one of shock.

----------------------------------------

“It’s crazy that a bunch of rapists and murderers got on a boat… and created one of the most iconic cultural identities of all time.” Tenek thought aloud. “Isn’t it, Captain RedFeathers?”

The scarlet macaw at his desk squawked his concurrence.

“Rapists! Rapists!” it repeated before Tenek hurriedly shushed it.

Too late. A receptionist was passing his cubicle and gave him a dirty look.