“Of course it seems nice here.” The demon sighed. “ But it’s the only place in the universe where God doesn’t exist, his spirit isn’t here.”

“So?” Brian shrugged. “I never cared for God. And anyhow, all the good musicians are here, right?”

“There are, yes, many of them. All the demons are fallen angels from the holy choir, in fact. How bitterly we wish we hadn’t followed Lucifer’s rebellion.”

“Isn’t it better to rule in hell than serve in Heaven?”

“That’s what all you humans have said since Dante, but you are wrong.”

“But why?”

“Because no matter how we try, we haven’t been able to tell you what really makes this place a place of unending torment.”

“Which is what?”

“It’s impossible to create music without God’s spirit being present.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you sing? Drum? Try it.”

Brian tried to sing. The words came out like speaking. He tried to rap. They still just came out wrong. He tapped his feet but there was no rhythm. He tried a death metal scram and it was just a grumble. He felt himself starting to panic.

“Yeah that’s exactly what every musical person has looked like when they realize. The whole 27 club is trying to kill them selves again. Most of the torture here is self inflicted to try to deaden the pain of no music. But it doesn’t work. It heals immediately, there’s no possibility of creating alcohol. It’s a spirit, after all, something impossible without the spirit of God, no matter what some of his followers thought about it. Even our memories of music are flat and dead. But yeah, otherwise it’s nice here.”

Further conversation was impossible because Brian was screaming, on his knees.