Afterparty Transcript

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The following is a script of the 2019 video game Afterparty by Night School Studio. This page contains switchable dialogue tabs and makes use of navigable section headers which do not display on mobile; as such, it may be viewed and navigated more easily on the desktop version.

This script is currently in progress; feel free to make any additions or corrections to errors you may come across.

(Note: At certain points in the game, the player can control either Milo or Lola within the same situation and environment. Lines that are the same between both versions outside of the speaker have been denoted with Milo/Lola: or Lola/Milo:, the first being the player-controlled character and the second being the non-playable character.)

Journey to Satan's[]

The Beginning[]

The Mixer[]

Billy: Well. This is it. Our journey has come to its end. Our lives, as we know them, are over.

A chair crashes through a nearby window as the lights come on, revealing a crowded graduation party.

Billy: Fuck college! We're adults now! [laughs] No, no, seriously though, I just wanted to say thanks for coming out, fellow breathers. We are officially college graduates! So congrats, monkeys. There's beer in the pool, condoms in the fridge. And if you can't be careful, there's a clinic like three blocks down, they'll do you cheap if you give 'em our promo code.

The crowd cheers as it disperses, revealing Lola and Milo sitting on a couch at the center.

Lola: Okay. We came. We saw. If we leave now, we can still make the donut place. Let's go before we get recognized...

Allison: Lola! Milo! I almost didn't recognize you!

Lola: Hi, Allison.

Allison: Can you believe we graduated? And what better way to end school than with an indigenous, late--century style mixer coupled with property damage and substance abuse? Oh, I love that--that--your outfit, Lola. You're always doing your own thing, which--you know, which I love.

Milo: Yeah, this is--it's fun, right? I kept telling Lola we should've hung out with you guys more.
Lola: Then why didn't you? You don't need me to go, we're not each other's sidekicks--
Allison: Because he needs his wingman! Wing-human.

Milo: I dunno... This is sorta lame, right? How fun can a party be if controllers aren't involved?
Allison: Oh I know, I'm so glad I was born after video games were invented. They're like Skinner Boxes--only if the mice paid with their time and currency to be trapped in the chambers, you know?

Allison: Who wants to get drunk?! Let's get a drink! Like right now, c'mon--the table's right--it's here.

Lola: Whatever speeds this process up.

Allison: Oh, and I'm sorry--this is my cousin, Katie! She's gonna be starting here in the fall. I was just telling her about you guys, how you've been friends forever, like... a weirdly long time. Everyone always thinks you're dating--

Lola: No no no no no, no. No. Never ever ever.

Allison: I know now, but--

Lola: Ever.

Milo: Why would they--why would they think that?
Allison: Think that you're screwing? I mean, somebody has to fuck the next generation of internet stars into existence!

Milo: Okay, don't need to salt the earth! Leave me a fingernail of dignity, here--
Lola: No, I'm just saying, it'd be too weird now. You're funderful, you know you're funderful-- but you can't date someone you've already seen cry at a coffee commercial.

Allison: Girl knows what she wants!

Allison: Let's drink, c'mon, they have 'em right over here.

Lola: Are we getting that drink, Milo?

[Milo must get a drink from the table, manned by Vicki.]

Milo: Hi. Is this--is this where the--uh--the ales are?

Vicki: It's all two dollar vodka mixed with three dollar lemonade, want one?

Allison: Yes please! Milo, Lola? It really helps pave over those awkward beats in the conversation... You could almost say it literally gives you more options in life. It's evolutionary, you know? I read somewhere that monkey-humans invented alcohol--in the same epoch that the octopus got that... eighth leg, finally.

Milo: Uh, wouldn't it be kinda the exact opposite, since, you know... drinking actively damages neurotransmitters?
Allison: So does playing professional football and those guys marry supermodels, okay-- Do brain scientists marry supermodels? Case closed, hung jury.

Milo: Yeah, I probably need something to--uh... to settle me a little.
Lola: Don't get too settled. I'm not dragging your ass throuogh the quad ever again. That shady chiropractor said my skeleton looked like a question mark.

Allison: So, you know... whatever that means!

Vicki: Yeah so... do you guys want one? They're getting warm.

Lola: Do we want one?

Milo: Yeah, sure. Why not?
Lola: [sigh] Okay, fine. I--uh--always take one if he does... and vice versa.

Milo: Eh, no thanks. I'll stick with air.
Allison: You'll regret that! Seriously, there's some shit coming later. Lola?
Lola: I--uh--always pass if Milo passes--or drink if he does. He does the same for me--

Vicki: Take a fucking picture, it'll last longer... Unless it deletes itself in five minutes, then, nevermind.
Allison: Guess Milo's rain-checking this one, okay--
Lola: I--uh--always pass if Milo passes--or drink if he does. He does the same for me--

Lola: Makes it so we can't lie to each other about how drunk we're getting.

[An air horn sounds from across the room, grabbing everyone's attention.]

Billy: Attention! All skin bags who now have to pay taxes... Please make your way to the dance floor. It's time to shake.

Allison: Ahh! Okay, really quick, give Katie meaningful life advice about higher learning! Mine was don't major in philosophy, law, any form of medicine, or theology, 'cause those are all career suicide. Oh! And don't buy your books from the campus store. You don't want the clerk there knowing your pin number.

Lola: Uh, life advice?

Milo: Uh, generally just try not to, uh--

Milo: Uh, try to make more friends than I--

Milo: Wear pants. Not just for when you're out, either. You're not Top Cat.
Lola: And get yourself one of those sperm-killing, cyborg arm implants. I am not playing.
Katie: Oh, uh, okay?
Lola: I better not see your ass posting about a "flaring sciatica," alright?

Lola: Maybe take advantage of the--

Allison: Yeah, that's good, thanks. Keep in touch!

Lola: Allison Hainnes, ladies and gentlemen.

Lola: Like anyone would think that we're--I was just as confused as you were.

Lola: And seriously don't take offense at the--I meant it when I said you were funderful.

Milo: No, it's fine--

Lola: Allison's just an idiot. Can't wait to read her posts about her summer *vacay!* Drinking pina coladas out of some cruise boat magician's navel.

Milo: She seemed fine, she was just--you know, happy to be done with... this, I guess.

Milo: Yeah, she seemed a little, uh, sloopy. "Sloopy?" Sloppy. Christ, I can't even say the damn--

Lola: Well, whatever, I'm not gonna let that be the last meaningful conversation you ever have at school.

Milo: No, if you wanna go, we can go--

Lola: Oh no no no, no no... We're leaving. This is just us saying bye to some folks on the way out the door. So pick whoever looks the least stupid and make this quick. [Laughs] You crack me up, though.

Lola: *This party's kinda lame, Allison.* *I only know how to play video games for fun.* That's you, that's what you sound like.

I don't sound like that!
This party is kinda lame!
I don't sound like that!

Milo: [Laughs] Oh shut up! You have me sounding like my Mom dropped me on my head!
Lola: Maybe she did, I don't know.

This party is kinda lame!

Milo: Hey, this party is kinda lame! I thought there'd be more--more outdoor bubble baths, or, uh--
Lola: Frat parties aren't like how they are in the movies. They have two settings: boring or traumatic. So let's just be thankful it's this.

Lola: *Yeah Allison, I keep telling stupid Lola how fun parties are!* *But she's allergic to having a good time, so...* That's you, that's what you sound like.

I don't sound like that!
Parties can be fun!
I don't sound like that!

Milo: [Laughs] Oh shut up! You have me sounding like my Mom dropped me on my head!
Lola: Maybe she did, I don't know.

Parties can be fun!

Milo: Hey, I have said that we should go to parties more, since they can be, by definition, fun.
Lola: Frat parties aren't like how they are in the movies. They have two settings: boring or traumatic. So let's just be thankful it's this.

Lola: Man, I will not miss this place at all... Not that I'm-- I don't wanna sound like I hated it.

Milo: No I know--

Lola: It's just... I'm glad I'll never have another hot flash cause someone's in my seat, that's all.

[Milo can speak to Vicki.]

Vicki: Want a cup? They're not going anywhere.
Milo: Yeah, thanks.
[Milo receives a cup.]

Vicki: If you're wondering, I pulled the short straw, so... that's why I'm the bartender.
Milo: Great, that's--yeah, thanks.
[Milo receives a cup.]

Vicki: Want a drink? They're... they're here, they haven't moved.
Milo: Sure.
[Milo receives a cup.]

Vicki: The drinks are right here if you want one.
Milo: I'll have one, yeah.
[Milo receives a cup.]

[Milo can go to the dance floor and ask Lola to dance.]

Milo: Lola, do you wanna, maybe... dance?

Lola: Fuck off.

[Milo can talk to the DJ, Billy.]

Milo: Hey? Billy? Can we maybe-- how about we change the music up?

Billy: I--I can't, actually! They only made one song for the DJ!

Lola: What does that mean?

Billy: I mean... yeah, sure thing! Just after this one's done!

[Milo must either talk to the movie guys or the intellectual couple.]

Movie Guy 1: No no no no, when the guy was all, "Not today!" and then the smokin' hot chick was all, "Uhhhh..."
Movie Guy 2: Right?! And those effects! I couldn't even tell that those weren't his hands!
Movie Guy 1: And the score! Ugh. If he doesn't get his Oscar...
Movie Guy 2: Forget the score man, what about the sets... It was an eye candy smorgasbord, table for one, please.

What movie are you talking about?
And what an ending!
Movie nerd alert! (Drunk)
(Say nothing.)
What movie are you talking about?

Milo: Hey guys, what, uh, what major motion picture studio tentpole are we--are we talking about? Sorry, this is Lola, I'm Milo, I think I-- didn't we have the same Advanced Frisbee class in--
Movie Guy 1: Yeah no I remember.

And what an ending!

Milo: Yeah, but what about that ending!
Movie Guy 1: What ending?
Milo: Uh... wait, what--what are we talking about? Sorry, this is Lola, I'm Milo, I think I-- didn't we have the same Advanced Frisbee class in--
Movie Guy 1: Yeah no I remember.

Movie nerd alert! (Drunk)

Milo: Film geek alert! Movie nerds, starboard bow! Land ho! No, but seriously, movies are our children's future in so many ways.
Movie Guy 2: You're... Psycho.
Lola: Milo.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: [Clears Throat]
Movie Guy 1: Can we... help you with something?
Movie Guy 2: You're... Psycho.
Lola: Milo.

Movie Guy 1: He's the one who had his wisdom teeth removed and then threw up all over the admissions director.
Movie Guy 2: Ohhh yeah!
Lola: That--it wasn't that bad.
Movie Guy 1: [Laughs] It was pretty bad! That guy quit, you know. He had to burn his clothes.

That wasn't me?
Hahaha, so funny!
At least I'll be remembered! (Drunk)
That wasn't me?

Milo: I think you're, uh, thinking of--of another... human-- Like--Like I'm the one that finished the Triathlon behind that--that wheelchair guy?
Movie Guy 2: It was definitely you. They had that two page spread in the yearbook.

Hahaha, so funny!

Milo: [Laughs] Yeah, th--that story just didn't go away, did it? Talk about a bad second day!

At least I'll be remembered! (Drunk)

Milo: Hey, at least I'll be remembered! Embarrassing becomes endearing in like a decade.
Movie Guy 2: For some things.

Movie Guy 1: Sigma Kappa gave you a nickname, right? Herpaderp?
Lola: Chunkamunk.
Movie Guy 1: Or wasn't it Colonel Shitlips?
Lola: Well, it was nice catching up! Have a good summer!
Movie Guy 2: See ya!

Intellectual Man: Like, have you ever thought that what you consider your personality is just the dream your unconscious body is having? Cause I have... and all my teachers said I was very smart.
Intellectual Woman: No, totally. And, like, what we think of as money... Is just like... just our projections of value?

Crazy that school's over!
That's deep, man.
Maybe your personality... (Drunk)
(Say nothing.)
Crazy that school's over!

Milo: It's--it's pretty crazy that school's over. Right? No more Tuesday cheese sticks! Sorry, this is Lola, I'm Milo, I think I-- didn't we have the same Advanced Frisbee class in--
Intellectual Man: I know who you are.

That's deep, man.

Milo: Wow, that's--that's deep, man. If I was scuba diving I'd need time to stop the nosebleed. Sorry, this is Lola, I'm Milo, I think I-- didn't we have the same Advanced Frisbee class in--
Intellectual Man: I know who you are.

Maybe your personality... (Drunk)

Milo: [Laughs] Maybe--maybe your personality. Wouldn't it be funny, if--if like--we all had souls, and you--like--didn't? You didn't know how to feel?
Intellectual Man: You're... Dido.
Lola: Milo.
Intellectual Man: Milo! Yes.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: [Clears Throat]
Intellectual Woman: Can we... help you with something?
Intellectual Man: You're... Dido.
Lola: Milo.
Intellectual Man: Milo! Yes.

Intellectual Man: You're the one that gave blood and then immediately threw up all over the floor of the auditorium in the annex.
Lola: That--it wasn't that bad.
Intellectual Man: [Laughs] It was pretty bad!
Intellectual Woman: They shut down class for like a week.

That wasn't me?
Hahaha, so funny!
At least I'll be remembered! (Drunk)
That wasn't me?

Milo: I think you're, uh, thinking of--of another... human-- Like--like I'm the one that finished the Triathlon behind that--that wheelchair guy?
Intellectual Woman: No, it was you. They had that two page spread in the yearbook.

Hahaha, so funny!

Milo: Yeah, that--that story just didn't go away, did it? Talk about a bad first day!
Intellectual Woman: First impressions matter a lot.

At least I'll be remembered! (Drunk)

Milo: Hey, at least I'll be remembered! Embarrassing becomes endearing in like a decade.
Intellectual Woman: Well you're almost halfway there.

Intellectual Man: Kappa Sigma gave you a nickname, right? The Recycler?
Lola: Chunkamunk.
Intellectual Man: Or was it Colonel Shitlips...
Lola: Well, it was nice catching up! Have a great summer!
Intellectual Woman: Bye!

Milo: That--okay, I know that could've gone better--

Lola: Shitlips, I mean Milo... who cares, man, seriously, they're just being dickbags.

Milo: Well it doesn't feel that way! It feels like I'm a freshly born antelope just learning how to walk. I should know how to make adult friends by now!

Lola: You just make it so much harder than it has to be.

Milo: Okay, Sven-fucking-goolie, you--you go and talk to people and--and--and teach me--

[Control switches from Milo to Lola.]

Milo: Show me the ropes. Let's--I wanna see how easy it is. Let's--let's see.

Lola: Hey, if that's what you want! My trick is just remembering that everyone's born screaming in terror.
Milo: Whatever it takes. Go forth, show me how it's done.

Lola: Look, if you wanna reminisce about college we can just go dumpster diving for half-eaten ramen.
Milo: Go make us pen pals! And then we can go, I promise!
Lola: Fine.

Lola: I can see, you're intimidated by my electric personality. It's understandable.
Milo: Oh Jesus.
Lola: Class is now in session. Watch and learn.

Milo: Looks like you're running on fumes. Wanna get another drink?

[Lola can speak to Vicki.]

Vicki: Want a cup? They're not going anywhere.
Lola: Uh huh, thanks.
[Lola receives a cup.]

Vicki: If you're wondering, I pulled the short straw, so... that's why I'm the bartender.
Lola: Yep, that's why I'm here.
[Lola receives a cup.]

Vicki: Want a drink? They're... they're here, they haven't moved.
Lola: Gimme that drank. Thanks.
[Lola receives a cup.]

Vicki: The drinks are right here if you want one.
Lola: Yeah, sure, whatever.
[Lola receives a cup.]

[Lola can look at the dance floor.]

Lola: I'm not thinking of dancing. I just want to stand here and watch for three seconds.

Milo: Okay. Noted.

[If Milo didn't talk to him before, Lola can talk to the DJ, Billy.]

Lola: Hey! Billy! Can you--can you do me a favor and change the music up a little?

Billy: I--I can't, actually! They only made one song for the DJ!

Lola: What does that mean?

Billy: I mean... yeah, sure thing! Just after this one's done!

[Based on who Milo talked to before, Lola must either talk to the intellectual couple or the movie guys.]

Intellectual Man: Like, have you ever thought that what you consider your personality is just the dream your unconscious body is having? Cause I have... and all my teachers said I was very smart.
Intellectual Woman: No, totally. And, like, what we think of as money... Is just like... just our projections of value?

Interesting concept.
Don't overheat, Einstein.
Maybe your personality... (Drunk)
(Say nothing.)
Interesting concept.

Lola: Uh, interesting concept! Did you take Mrs. Vasquez's class on Cartesian dualism or are you just spitballing?
Intellectual Man: Uh, who are you?
Lola: I'm Lola, this is--

Don't overheat, Einstein.

Lola: Don't overheat there, Einstein. Save some of that brain matter for when the psychedelics come out.
Intellectual Man: Uh, who are you?
Lola: I'm Lola, this is--

Maybe your personality... (Drunk)

Lola: This sounds like an accidental admission. Like when--like when that guy told me he didn't care if people peed in the community shower?
Milo: Hey! This is Lola, I'm--

(Say nothing.)

Milo: [clears throat]
Intellectual Woman: Can we... help you with something?
Milo: Hey! This is Lola, I'm--

Intellectual Man: Colonel Shitlips, we know.
Milo: Oh, c'mon, I-- that was--
Intellectual Woman: Lola, was it? Are you a friend of... Captain Pukemouth, or... townie? Auditing the school? Thinking of transferring here, maybe? Cause if you are, don't believe the brochure.

I just didn't go out much...
I went here four years.
I don't remember you, either. (Drunk)
I just didn't go out much...

Lola: No, I--I went here, I just didn't get out that much... The whole party scene wasn't really my... our thing. Not that it's bad--
Intellectual Man: No, don't worry, you're masking the disdain in your voice very well.

I went here four years.

Lola: No, I uh, I actually went here four years.
Intellectual Man: Yeah, I think... weren't you a part of the protests to get lunch workers equal pay?
Lola: Yes! Exactly.
Intellectual Woman: But then didn't they just replace them all with robots?
Milo: Only after it turned out they were putting bleach in the rich kids' coffee.

I don't remember you, either. (Drunk)

Lola: Yeah, it's fine, I get it, everybody blends together. Like, you, right? I don't remember you, specifically, just everybody else that's exactly like you.

Milo: Okay, well, good to see you guys. Keep it--keep it up.
Intellectual Woman: Bye Chinflaps! Bye Nola!

Talking about a movie?
What are you drinking?
Read a book, losers. (Drunk)
(Say nothing.)
Talking about a movie?

Lola: Talking about a movie? Lemme guess, it was rated PG 13 for Fantasy Violence.
Movie Guy 1: Actually you can say, "ass" twice and still get the PG.
Lola: I'm Lola, this is--

What are you drinking?

Lola: Hey school dudes. What are you drinking? Something with alcohol, I imagine.
Movie Guy 1: Uh huh.
Lola: I'm Lola, this is--

Read a book, losers. (Drunk)

Lola: Oh my God, I couldn't help but overhear you guys jizzing all over another artistically useless piece of capitalistic military-grade garbage. Don't people understand these things are just commercials selling a lifestyle pampered ignorance?
Movie Guy 1: Who are you?
Milo: Hey! This is Lola, I'm--

(Say nothing.)

Milo: [clears throat]
Movie Guy 2: Can we... help you with something?
Milo: Hey! This is Lola, I'm--

Movie Guy 1: Colonel Shitlips, we got it.
Milo: Oh, c'mon, I-- that was--
Movie Guy 2: Lola, did you say? Are you... auditing a student, or..? Shadowing some classes? The school's not as good as the sites say, so... Apply around.

I gave you the heimlich last semester.
I went here four years.
I don't remember you either. (Drunk)
I gave you the heimlich last semester.

Lola: David, I gave you the heimlich two years ago. I met your parents at the hospital? Remember? They kept touching my hair?
Movie Guy 1: Wait, you went to this school or you're going to this school?

I went here four years.

Lola: No, I, uh, I actually went here four years.
Movie Guy 1: Yeah yeah yeah, you-- she was the one who petitioned to get that ex-con hired as a couselor, right?
Lola: Yes, thank you!
Movie Guy 2: Didn't he end up burning down the Dean's house?
Movie Guy 1: Yeah, but her son survived so in eighteen years he can seek revenge.

I don't remember you either. (Drunk)

Lola: Yeah, it's fine, I get it, everybody blends together. Like, you, right? I don't remember you, specifically, just everybody else that's exactly like you.
Movie Guy 2: Oh. Yeah, that's, uh, that is funny.

Milo: Okay, well, good to see you guys. Keep it--keep it up.
Movie Guy 2: Bye Lipflaps! Bye Ebola!

Lola: Milo, you wanted to mingle, why are you sheepdogging me.

Milo: Lola, they don't even remember you! And the only reason they remember me is because I pooped out of my mouth once!I mean how sad is this! We went to the school! These are our peers! I sat next to that guy in least four classes!

Lola: Who cares what any of these people think about us?! We graduated, remember? We're done with these idiots.
Milo: Lola--
Lola: College was a nonstop, inescapable popularity contest where the winners rule over an imaginary world. You think anyone in society is gonna care what they called you in college? What's gonna be etched onto your metallic space crypt will be what you did in the actual real world... And the real world starts right fucking now!

Lola: Okay, alright, look, Milo... I'm so sorry this isn't working out how you wanted it to. But... it's not like any of this shit matters, okay? We graduated, remember? We're done with these idiots.
Milo: Lola--
Lola: College was a nonstop, inescapable popularity contest where the winners rule over an imaginary world. You think anyone in society is gonna care what they called you in college? What's gonna be etched onto your metallic space crypt will be what you did in the actual real world... And the real world starts right fucking now!

Milo: Like, college was supposed to be one long party where you meet some of your closest friends! Where you learn to be social and--and not weird, and-- And the real world is coming right around the corner, and I do not feel prepared for it at all.

Party Boy: Everyone! Hairy people! Your attention please!

Party Girl: Stop the awesome music!

The music stops and the disco light turns off.

Party Girl: Is someone named Milo and Lola here?

Party Boy: Actually this is-- That's probably two separate people.

Party Girl: Milo and-or Lola? Are you here?

Lola: Uh, yeah? What--what is--

Lola: Uh, is this, like, a prank, guys, 'cause it's a little--

Lola: Fuck yeah, we're here! Milo and Lola in the hooouseee, what?

Milo: Uh... yeah, we're--we're here.

Party Boy: Milo, Lola... I'm very sorry to tell you this, but but your parents were just run over by a train.

Lola: What?!

Party Girl: They were scissored in half, but the wheels are keeping their guts in place.

Party Boy: But as soon as they move the train again, their intestines will fall out of their bodies, and they'll die.

Party Girl: The EMTs are keeping them alive so you have time to be with them in their final moments.

Milo: What?!

Party Boy: It's their last request.

Lola: Milo, c'mon, they're just fucking with you.
Milo: Huh?

Lola: Oh my God, that's--this is horrible!

Lola: Oh---fucking Jesus, oh, I'm gonna be sick--

Milo: Uh... I... I don't know what to--

[The party boy and girl start making robotic, inhuman movements and noises.]

Party Boy: I'm sooo happy it's Friday, right?

Party Girl: Thank God I don't have to do my kegels.

Milo: Ah--holy--holy shit, uh, are--are you...

Lola: Oh--oh uh, do you--are you--is what's happening to you okay, or...?

Lola: Ahhh! Oh my God! You're--your--skin, it's--

Lola: Uhhhm, do you know that you're, like, melting right now?

[The lights suddenly shut off and the party kids disappear. Lola's drink, if she has one, goes empty.]

Lola: Gah!

Milo: Lola, I-- what's-- is this a--

[Spotlights come on, highlighting the dead bodies of several students across the room. Three demons start to hone in on Milo and Lola.]

Demon 1: Hahahaha!

Demon 2: Hahahaha!

Demon 3: Hahahaha!

Demon 2: Oh look at them-- they think they're still alive! They think they're alive!

Demon 3: Hahahaha!

Milo: [Whimpering] What is--

Demon 3: Aw, look at his dumb face! They're so confused, it's hilarious.

Lola: Uh, how are you guys doing this? Not that I'm impressed. I thought that a little man lived in the putt putt windmill 'til I was like fourteen.
Demon 2: What's putt putt?
Demon 1: Golf for pedophiles.

Lola: Okay, what the fuck is going on. You freaks should know that my uncle's a volunteer fireman so I can get an axe whenever I want.

Milo: Are you--are--do we--do we know you?

Demon 1: You wanna know what's going on? Well, we'll tell you what's going on!

Rhadamanthus: Hey, what the Hell's going on in here?!

The spotlights shut off and walls fall apart, revealing that the six have been standing inside a Feisty's restaurant all along.

Demon 2: Mr. Rhadamanthus! We were just assisting in the transition between--

Rhadamanthus: I don't want to hear it. I told you guys to wash the floors with pony blood, not fuck with the newborns. Clean all this shit up. I mean it. And Milo. Lola. You're late. Luckily, there's a Processor down the road. And you better double-time it if you wanna get in before close.

Milo: D-d-double--double-time it?

Rhadamanthus: It means do something twice as fast. Which for you is probably still half speed.

Lola: Uh, late for what? The wildly expensive costume ball everyone is apparently going to?

Lola: Whoa, now I'm impressed! Are you like three kids under there or one Bosnian?

Rhadamanthus: Sorry to break this to you, but I"m not a parade float.

Milo: Uh--wh-what--

Rhadamanthus: You died.

Milo: Died?

Rhadamanthus: Ten minutes ago. I'd head to the Process station now if I were you.

Lola: What the--uh, okay? Let's, uh, let's go get processed...

Rhadamanthus: And the rest of you put all this crap away. Some evil nuns are dying in a bus crash tomorrow. So I want this place spotless.

Demon 2: Hey, I got tickets to the '19 Black Sox fighting a pack of wolves tonight. I can't really be doing overtime.

Rhadamanthus: The wolves have Ty Cobb, asshole. So spoiler alert: the Sox are losing. Get in the grooves, there. It shouold be gross. You should feel gross if you're cleaning right.

Demon 1: And this--I can't--do we have a step stool anywhere?? I was made to put bees in traffic cop's ears! Not clean up party fouls.

Rhadamanthus: Well, you should've thought of that before you pulled this stunt, Hornetius, Keeper of the Honey.

[Lola can talk to Rhadamanthus.]

Lola: You're probably, uh, used to this, but I-- we have a couple of questions...

Rhadamanthus: Wrong. You want the door, there. I'm not a door. Go down the road. The Processor will explain everything.

Welcome to Hell[]

[Lola and Milo must exit out the door into Bobolyne Park.]

Milo: Oh my God, Lola, we're dead! We're fucking dead and there's a god! [groans]

[The camera zooms out to reveal that the two are standing in Hell as the title of the game, Afterparty, fades in. A giant demon walks across town in the background.

Milo: There's a God and we're dead! Jesus Christ, Lola! Holy shit! We're dead and--and--and there are demon janitors!

Lola: Yeah--how did we even die?! I mean--I don't even remember how we got to the party...
Milo: Was there a party?! What do I know!

Lola: Milo, get a grip! Remember when Alpha Phi said you won a date with Jessica Rabbit?
Milo: Yeah, they spiked my coffee with LSD and I made out with a rosebush, but this isn't a prank, Lola! Nobody put VR lenses in our contacts! This is really happening!

Milo: There are demon anythings! This is real! It's--it's all real!

[A demon walks past them.]

Bobolyne Local Demon: Hey.

Milo: Hi, hey, how's it goin'?

[Rhadamanthus exits from the door behind them.]

Rhadamanthus: Yeah, Tuesdays are always slow, the custodians got bored, you know how it is... But the Processing Station's just down the way, there. Start walkin' you can't miss it.

[He walks back inside. Lola can walk around the town.]

Milo: I... can't even remember, like... when did we go to that party? Was there a party? How'd we even die?

Lola: I can barely remember anything.

Milo: Look at this place! What are we even standing on? Is this a rock? Why is it sticking to my shoes! You know what, screw it. I don't even--this has to be a mistake! We--we had plans. And people can't die if they have plans. And they can't get sent to Hell if they babysat their neighbors' kids for free.

Lola: Yeah, this feels, like, wine and sushi wrong, we should--we should, uh, ask the Processing Station guy. Hopefully it's a person and not like an automated ATM..

Lola: Look, right now I can maybe remember twenty full days of my whole entire life. So I can't really say with absolute certainty I didn't purposefully run over a giraffe at some point.

Milo: Ugh--I just can't believe this is happening! Hell cannot be real! It just doesn't make any sense! It's cheating! The whole universe shouldn't be that train station where I had my socks stolen.

Lola: Hey, Milo, I'm as surprised as you are, okay? My Mom made me go to church until I was twelve. I mean, I--I just sat there and read Mad Magazine until I stopped hearing, "Can I get a witness?"
Milo: Just--this is wrong. Way wrong.

Lola: Hey, don't look at! I held out hope for something after the blimp explosion I planned on dying in.
Milo: Just--this is wrong. Way wrong.

Milo: Ugghghgh... Just--this is wrong. Way wrong.

Milo: And--and there better be somebody at this station whose job it is to file paperwork somewhere... And--and--and we'll--we'll get this--they'll fix it, it'll get fixed. We're--we'll be fine.

Lola: Or they won't and this is our new existence.
Milo: [Deep sigh]

Lola: ...sure.
Milo: You--you kinda paused there before you said, "sure," do you--do you know that? It kinda makes it sound a little--like you don't believe it.
Lola: ...yeah.
Milo: [Deep sigh]

Milo: [Deep sigh]

[Lola must go downstairs to the security floor, where she can look out a telescope.]

Lola: Wait wait wait, look at this--it says the "Scales of Judgement." Where "Osiris weighed Satan against a feather in a drunken bet to see who gained the most weight over winter break."

[She must go downstairs again, where Sam Hill greets them.]

Sam: Hey--hey, either one of you guys, Jimmy Boulanger? James Whitney Boulanger? Tu t'appeles comment?

Lola: What? Jimmy who?
Sam: Okay, well, judging by your complexion you are probably not the plantation owner who was drowned by his kids, so.

Lola: No, neither of us are whoever you're talking about, so... don't, like, hurt us, please.
Sam: Wrong vocation, but don't worry, I'm not too insulted.

Milo: We're not--we don't know a--a Jimmy Boulanger.
Sam: Well, you know, strive for the stars, maybe you will someday.

Sam: Well, sorry to bother ya, have a good one.

[Lola will walk past a peddler.]

Peddler: Hey, hey kids--hey, you wanna buy a rug--listen--I got dodecahedrons, punch bowls... Uh--uh toilet covers with St. Michael's face on 'em--

Lola: Sorry, maybe we'll uh--maybe we'll come back later.

Peddler: Yeah, they all say that!

[Lola will eventually reach the processor demon.]

Processor Demon: Okay... Marcy Sullivan? Marcy Sullivan?

Marcy: Oh, y-yes, h-here, here.

Processor Demon: Marcy. How you doin'?

Marcy: Uh, not too good--

Processor Demon: Yeah yeah I know, just proceed down to table three, if you please, thank you very much. Take as much--take all day to get there, yeah--there ya go, okay... Alright now... Lola... Lola Woolfe? Is there a Lola Woolfe here? Lollaaa Woolfe...

Lola: Uh, sir, I--we think there's been a mistake, since uh--
Processor Demon: Please hold all stupid questions and dumb comments till after this part so I don't have to deal with it, thank you.

Lola: Uh, present.
Processor Demon: Ah you still have your mouth, great.

Processor Demon: Cheese and rice, okay...

Processor Demon: How about Sang Bong? Is Sang Bong here?

Milo: Milo. You're up.

[Control switches from Lola to Milo.]

Processor Demon: Sang. Bong. Anybody know this guy? Maybe some of you went in the same mass murder?

Milo: Uh, sorry, but what--what is all this for?

(Said "We think there's been a mistake...)
(Didn't)
(Said "We think there's been a mistake...)

Processor Demon: You know, I ask myself that very same question every morning.

(Didn't)

Processor Demon: Please hold all stupid questions and dumb comments till after this part so I don't have to deal with it, thank you.

Milo: Uh, I--my friends usually call me Milo...
Processor Demon: A little overeager pluralizing "friends" there, but okay, sure.

Processor Demon: Okay, we'll do it this way. You two, wonder twins. Your new names are Lola and Pisshog.
Lola: But--

Processor Demon: This--okay, this is weird. It says you two are going together.

Lola: What does that mean?

Processor Demon: Proceed on to table two, please. [Groans] I'd like to get home before my wife gets the good spot in the garage. Alright, moving--moving right along... Is there an Abby here? Abigail Cunningham?

Abby: H-here, yes, I'm here.

Processor Demon: Yes, good, that's you. Miss Cunningham, did you die with any metal on you? Any pieces of tin?

Abby: N-no, I don't think so...?

Processor Demon: Sometimes the Aztec judges mistake it for a bribe... I've seen guys end up somebody's bocce ball just cause they forgot they were wearing a dreamcatcher. Okay Abby, table four's got your name on it.

Abby: Do you--do you know if--if--is my Mom, uh, here?

Processor Demon: Probably! I mean, if she used air conditioning or... ate tuna. Table four, please.

[Milo must sit down at table two.]

Milo: "Table 2," okay, that's--this must be us. You know, it's kind of funny, I--I'm kind of... I feel like I'm sort of adjusting already. Like... I've just--I'm getting some level of emotional control, at least, that--

Lola: Oh my God, Milo, we're dead! We're fucking dead and we're in Hell! How was this not hitting me before?! We are in Hell and we are dead! Oh, Jesus Christ, Milo, I can't believe it! What are we doing here?! Why are--what is happening?!--^[1]

Milo: Yeah, I know, it's-- there doesn't seem to be any bright sides here.
Lola: Right?!

Milo: Get a grip, Lola! You were the rock! Don't make me the rock!
Lola: Ok--I can't be the rock! I am not fine! How was I fine, this is-- this is insane! Literally the worst thing that could possibly happen to us is happening to us right now!

Lola: We are so totally completely screwed! [Deep, angry sigh]

The Personality Audit[]

[A demon, Barbatos, walks up to the pair.]

Audit Demon: Hi, guys! I'm Barbatos. No relation to the island, which-- I hate that I even have to say that now. I'll be doing your Personality Audit before the Processing commences. I have your file right here on my phone... sorry, I'm coming from the gym.

Lola: Look, we--there has--there's been a mistake, we don't--we don't even know why or how we died, so--

Audit Demon: Yeah, you know how when you're a kid, you stop remembering your infancy past a certain age? It's because your brain reconfigures itself to make more room. Ditto here. So when you pierce the mortal veil only the important stuff stays. Phone numbers, the smell of your mother's hair... All of that garbage gets dumped like a red-headed boyfriend.

Milo: So, okay, so... do you know how we died?
Audit Demon: I surely... don't. No sir, no ma'am, not my department. I don't do Collections.

Milo: But I can remember Lola, I can remember my parents, what I wanted to do after school...
Audit Demon: Then that and ten other things are the stuff you cared about when you were alive.

Lola: I can remember some stuff, though, 'kay? Mostly... Milo. And... school.
Audit Demon: Then that and ten other things are the stuff you cared about when you were alive.

Lola: Wait wait-- 'make more room' for what? We're dead.

Audit Demon: And how! You're gonna be here for a very long time. Like... for eternity. And a lot of new, mostly painful memories need their baby rooms made up before delivery. Which means the spank bank is getting converted, whether you like it or not.

Lola: Look, I know what this is. I've seen white guys bribe hotel clerks in movies, okay? Just tell us what you want to let us go home.

Audit Demon: Hm? Oh! Sorry, I wasn't listening.

[The floor opens up beneath Milo and Lola, causing them to fall into another room and land harshly.]

Milo: [Yells in fear]

Lola: [Yells in fear] Ow.

[They get up, and Milo cracks his head back from its unnatural angle.]

Audit Demon: Okay! This is novel, you two going together. Normally that's reserved for murder suicides and moms with albino sons. But we'll tag team it, alright? Answer the following questions without thinking. Milo, regardless of the truth, have you ever suspected a lover was cheating on you? There are no wrong answers. Well... except that one.

Milo: Uh, actually... It's hard to remember, but I want to say... yeah, I think I have.
Audit Demon: You think you have, okay, cool.

Milo: Uh, no, not really.
Audit Demon: "No, not really." Okay, cool.

Lola: Milo?
Audit Demon: That's okay, I like trying to guess the answers, anyway. And your hair tells me, yes, paranoia had been a deciding factor in your life.

[Control switches from Milo to Lola.]

Audit Demon: Alright, Lola. Which image is closest to representing what was your ideal life? Closest, remember. And don't focus on the hair or the clothes.

Lola: Okay, even though I'm sure this is a trap... the exec running shit.
Audit Demon: I would have guessed that one for you! I would have, that's so funny.

Lola: Of these? The, uh, the woman with her family, probably.
Audit Demon: Uncritical companionship and species propagation, okay, got it.

Milo: Well, I mean for Lola, I'd guess it's--
Audit Demon: Yeah, leave the guessing to the professionals, alright? I'll just put down the executive, cause... I don't know why, it's late, sue me.

Audit Demon: You guys--can I just say, you're doing really well.

Milo: Really?

[The floor drops them down again into another room.]

Milo: [Yells in fear]

Lola: [Yells in fear]

[As they get up, spotlights shine themselves on the two.]

Lola: Come the fuck on, man--

[A third spotlight shines on a suspended cage holding a mangled body.]

Audit Demon: Okay, you see that head over there?

[The body's head falls onto the ground, followed by the spotlight.]

Lola: Uh huh... I mean ughghgh!

Audit Demon: Alright, fling that thing up into the hamper like you're George Gervin.

[Lola must pick up the severed head and aim it towards the basket.]

Audit Demon: Good hand-eye coordination! I'll put you down as "functioning mammal..."

Audit Demon: Good job!... is what I'd be saying if you made the shot, since that was the test here. I'll just put you down as "hands included, but questionable proficiency..."

[The floor drops them down again into another room.]

Milo: [Yells in fear]

Lola: [Yells in fear]

Audit Demon: Lightning round! This is a Word Association, so just say the first thing that pops into your head. Ring!

Milo: Oh, wedding!

Milo: Uh, phone?

Lola: Uh, whatever?

[The glass wall behind them pounds and begins to crack.]

Audit Demon: Lola! Drugs!

Lola: No thank you.

Lola: Yes, please.

Milo: Uh, intense?

[The glass wall behind them pounds and cracks.]

Audit Demon: Milo! Crowds!

Milo: Joy?

Milo: Uh--tired.

Lola: Escape.

[The glass wall behind them pounds and cracks.]

Audit Demon: Milo! I mean, Lola! Break!

Lola: Like breaking bones?

Lola: Like taking a break?

Milo: Uh, you mean like--like breaking the law?

The glass wall behind them pounds and cracks.

Audit Demon: Ho ho ho, what could this be? Hmm?

[The glass wall behind them begins pounding repeatedly. Lola and Milo's reflections walk towards them and start punching the wall.]

Audit Demon: All the way from the deepest, darkest broom closets of your mind...

Milo: Lola... what's--

Audit Demon: The reigning pride of your ceaseless sorrow... the Sultan of Revulsion, the Drain on your Brain, the pebble in your shoe you just can't get out, I give you, your... Personal Demon!

[Wormhorn breaks through the glass and floats in the air, waving before landing on the ground.]

Wormhorn: How in tarnation are you, man! I am just so excited to be workin' with you -- with anyone really-- I am just so ready for this shit, we are gonna be a team, a real partnership, I want you to know that -- Oh crap. There's two of you. I-I'm so sorry, little lady. I didn't see you there. Let, uh, let me start over, okay? I'm Sister Mary Wormhorn, and--and I will be assisting you guys with your mental anguish here in Hell! We're gonna be brain bunkmates! You're hungry. I'm hungry. You're sad, I'm--I mean that means I'm doing my job!

Lola: Yeah. Hi.
Wormhorn: Hi!

Lola: Jumping Christ, what is--what are--

Wormhorn: Isn't that great!

Audit Demon: Sister Wormhorn here is your Personal Demon. "Slow down, Barbatos! What does that mean?" Well, it's a comfort inhibitor only you and other demons can see. And it's so during your "off hours" there's still somebody to nudge you into traffic sometimes.

Lola: "Off hours?" What does--what does that mean?

[The floor falls through once more into the floor of the reception desk, throwing Milo and Lola back into table two. Lola must walk over to the right, where the Processor Demon is speaking to several people in a cage.]

Processor Demon: Yeah, Dev, no--

[A cage materializes around Milo and Lola, to their surprise.]

Processor Demon: --the fact that you only ate free-range chicken doesn't change anything. Okay, now that you have all been appointed your Personal Demons... We can now assign your torture! Your torture will take place during regular office hours by a certified sadist... Exempting holidays and Medusa's birthday. Even though I don't know why we bother... The bitch still says she's thirty-nine.

Lola: Her torture?! I thought--doesn't Hell just like generically suck?
Milo: Yeah, I didn't, know there were seat assignments.
Processor Demon: I would think it an apparentness that cannibals and canoe tippers shouldn't get the same treatment. But yes, you all get different shit that happens to you.

Lola: "Office hours?" Do we--do people get, like, time off?
Processor Demon: Hey, Norma Rae, it ain't for the people, it's for the demons. You think getting whipped for ten hours is hard? Try swinging the Cat O' Nine Tails all the live long day, you'll pray to trade seats.

Processor Demon: Abigail Cunningham?

Abby: Yes?

Processor Demon: Your bones will be broken every day by a ball peen hammer for the sin of repeatedly misusing the repress lane in grocery stores.

Abby: But I always have more than fifteen things!

[A glowing hole opens up underneath Abby's feet, and she falls through.]

Abby: [Screams as she falls]

Lola: What?! She wasn't even that bad!

Lola: Oh my God. Milo. She's--

Processor Demon: Dev Sadana and Marcy Sullivan?

Dev: Uh... no?

Processor Demon: It's you, I can--we just did this like two minutes ago.

Marcy: He knows.

Dev: Oh my God, Marcy, will you just back me up on something for once?

Lola: Sir! Um... Sir, excuse me, but we--we are actually good people!
Processor Demon: I know you're eager to start eating worms and pissing sand but this will be just a moment.

Lola: Milo, this is it, this is--we got to get out of here!
Milo: Lola, what the hell do you think we can even--

Processor Demon: Now... for robbing all those liquid stores, Dev will be suspended from a pole by his genitals--

Dev: WHAT?!

Processor Demon: --while children use your head like a tetherball, weather permitting. Marcy, your tits will be consumed by snapping turtles, only for them to re-grow larger every day-- --giving you intense back pain when you jog.

Marcy: But--but--we--we only robbed Jewish liquor stores!

[Portals open up beneath Marcy and David.]

Marcy: [Screams as she falls]

Dev: [Screams as he falls]

Processor Demon: Now, Milo and Lola. For the sin of--

[A nearby clock glows and sounds off as Abby, Marcy, and Dev's cage disappears.]

Processor Demon: For the sin of being too late to get assigned a punishment... you get to wander the city until tomorrow, have fun, see you later, I'm going to get drunk.

[The Processor Demon walks back to his booth as Milo and Lola's cage dissipates.]

Lola: Wait! Um, what is--what's our thing gonna be, our--our torture?
Processor Demon: Our hours are nine to six, guys.
Milo: Can't you just tell us now?

Lola: Wait! What was our crime, our--our sin?
Processor Demon: Our hours are nine to six, guys.
Milo: Can't you just tell us now?

Milo: But, uh, what--what does that mean, exactly?
Processor Demon: It means our hours are nine to six.
Milo: But--

Processor Demon: Come back in the morning when we're open--

Milo: Okay, but--but what are we supposed to do until then?

Processor Demon: Sight see. Meet people. Might as well carve out your shitting hole. And hey, don't worry. You'll be having maggots forced up your nose soon enough.

[The Processor Demon walks off-screen and dissipates with a puff of smoke.]

Another Ride[]

Milo: Well what the Hell are we supposed to do now?

[As the walk to the right, Sam walks towards the two.]

Sam: Hey! You two coulda told me that guy got another ride.

Milo: What?

Sam: Boulanger. Jimmy? I was lookin' for him earlier. The guy got another ride, that's all. You coulda fuckin' told me.

Lola: Huh? The guy got another 'ride'? Are you, like, his-- his friend?

Lola: We're, um, sorry? We didn't know we were supposed to tell you anything, we just--we just got here.

Milo: I'm--we're sorry, we really don't know what's going on.

Sam: I'm just fuckin' with you, sorry, you're confused--it's--I'm--I'm being mean. I'm a--a psychopomp. Friend of Urshanabi, tooth of Phlegyas... Charon's lost dog?'

Milo: Uh huh.

Sam: I'm a-- I'm a cab driver. A ferryman, to be, uh, specific.

Milo: Oh, a psyCHO-pomp.

Sam: Yeah, you--you got it.

Lola: What would Hell need cab drivers for. I don't know aware you are of the infrastructure here but I just fell through the floor into a phantasmagorium.
Sam: Yeah, no, that, uh... that'll happen.

Lola: Uh, I'm sure the answer to this is no, but... can you, like, ferry us out of here.
Sam: That-- depends. Where do you wanna go?

Home. Earth.
Anywhere but here.
(Say nothing.)
Home. Earth.

Lola: Um. Home. Topside. Earth, if--if--if that's--if that's possible.
Sam: Home. Mm. 'The props assist the house, until the house is built--' Yeah, doctors do warn that you don't get to take the drapes when that fastball catches the side of your head.
Milo: You're saying we're stuck here, she's saying we're stuck here--
Sam: No, it's, it's just-- it's a tall order, that's all.

Anywhere but here.

Lola: Uh, honestly, just like--just anywhere but here. For starters.
Sam: I like the low expectations.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Um... I don't even know... I don't even know what's... where anything is.

Milo: Where's your, uh, where's your--your car? Cab?
Sam: Oh, uh, back yonder. Need to get somewhere?
Milo: Um... I mean... yeah, we--we'd like to get... get home, I guess. Back alive.
Sam: Home. Mm. 'The props assist the house, until the house is built--' Yeah, doctors do warn that you don't get to take the drapes when that fastball catches the side of your head.
Milo: You're saying we're stuck here, she's saying we're stuck here--
Sam: No, it's, it's just-- it's a tall order, that's all.

Sam: Look, I just clocked in, but I need a fare, you guys look clean enough... You wanna roll with me on a chore I gotta do? It's at 1st and Izzard. I gotta see about a friend, but I'll introduce you to some people. Eh? I'm Sam, by the way. Sam Hill, short for Samantha... short for Salathiel Machidiel.

Milo: Milo.

Lola: Lola.

Sam: Mr. Milo, Miss Lola. I'm nicer than I look. What do you say. I promise I won't bite.

Lola: I'm getting the same feeling I did when that guy in the van tried to sell me a raccoon... I'm choosing to trust this.
Sam: And what the fuck else are you gonna do with your night, right?

Lola: Yeah, I don't think--
Milo: Great! Yeah, that's--that'd be great, just--thanks, we-- We couldn't have run into you at a better time. We're, like, brand spanking new, so... This is-- this is a big help.
Sam: And what the fuck else are you gonna do with your night, right?

Milo, no!
Okay, I guess.
(Say nothing.)
Milo, no!

Lola: Milo! What are y--this--we have no idea who this person is. Sorry.
Sam: No offense taken. Other than calling me a 'person'.
Milo: Lola, I'm not just standing here until that thing comes back and tells me how many frog pancakes I need to eat every day-- Let's do something. She seems, you know... not... that demonic?
Sam: And what the fuck else are you gonna do with your night, right?

Okay, I guess.

Lola: Okay, I... I guess. If this is literally the only thing we can do here.
Sam: Well, I mean, you could stand around until you get your assigned torture. If it helps, you're already dead, so... not a lot can ruin your day more than it already is.
Milo: Exactly.
Sam: And what the fuck else are you gonna do with your night, right?

(Say nothing.)

Lola: I don't think--
Milo: Yeah, that's--that'd be great. Just--thanks.
Sam: Well, it's a little outlandish-- a little 80's buddy comedy, and... to tell you the truth, it's better shown than explained.

Milo: We're... interested. Intrigued, uh, you might say.
Sam: And what the fuck else are you gonna do with your night, right?

Sam: C'mon, my ride's this way. Won't be a long trip.

Milo: Uh, so, uh.... Hell, huh?

Sam: Yeah, 'the days have worn away,' haven't they. I could tell you cats were new. Dead-eyed and pig... tailed, so I guess I'll hit the questions everyone has... First of all, whatever church you went to, whatever faith--they were a little right and a lot wrong-- And if you didn't go to church, you were kind of right, too. It's not like God takes attendance... Uh, reincarnation's a thing, but it's kind of like having triplets... It's pretty rare. Usually means there were a lot of hormone supplements involved. And if you don't know why you're here--

Milo: Yes?

Sam: I can't tell you.

Milo: Because you don't know or--

Sam: Because I don't know. Only your assigned Processor Demon and Lucifer himself would be privy to your permanent record. Which is a good thing, trust me. You don't want the shit-heels down here having any more ammunition for nicknames. They can be as brutal as Irish schoolchildren.

Lola: So... what exactly gets you thrown down here? Or, um, generally speaking, I--I guess--
Sam: Uh, being a giant dickhead. Letting dickheadishness prevail over lawful headishness. But don't think it makes you unique.

Lola: We, uh, we think there's been a mistake when it comes to our, uh, permanent imprisonment--
Sam: Yeah, no. If you're down here, you're supposed to be.
Milo: Says who?
Sam: Says your mother and her maker.

Milo: Okay, alright, but... we couldn't have been--I just--I just don't think we were that not good...
Sam: Yeah, well Yahwel didn't consult with you when He invented gravity, either. The rulebook was written in permanent marker.

Sam: This ain't the DMV and you didn't lose your tags-- That double helix you call your DNA is a merry-go-round God set in motion at the Cape of Good Hope. But it drives you jackanapes to kill and eat and fuck each other over and over--^[2] It's a wonder any of you made it to Elysium. It's not your fault, of course. Blame the first of you.

Lola: Yeah, well, I mean... okay, sure, but--but also we... you know.
Sam: You know, it's a long night, maybe you'll have me convinced by the end of it.^[3] Fair warning, I'm a lot older than you. And I'm pretty stuck in my ways. Cab's just over here.

Lola: C'mon, Sam, humans aren't that bad. We do--we have our bright spots, our good moments--some people don't even lock their WiFi!
Sam: You know, it's a long night, maybe you'll have me convinced by the end of it. Fair warning, I'm a lot older than you. And I'm pretty stuck in my ways. Cab's just over here.

[Lola must walk across the island to Sam's boat.]

Sam: Here's my little bundle of joy. I should give her a name, but never really had the time though. Or the desire. Hop on in, but mind the leather.

[Lola must eventually get into Sam's boat. If she doesn't immediately, Sam will start talking.]

Sam: It's perfectly safe, don't worry. It has a floor for your feet and seats for your ass--every uh--everything a vehicular transport should need. Any uh... any day. Whenever you're ready... to get into... my car. Or... boat, whatever you want to call it. Speedboat, if you will. Speed-car-boat--if you--just whenever you want to get into the thing that will take you to the next... part of this. I'll... just be standing here. Waiting. And ready. To take you. Ferry, I should have--it's--it's a ferry, it's a ferry.

[Lola and Milo get into Sam's boat.]

Milo: Oh--okay. It's--uh--the... the seat's wet.

Sam: Oh yeah, that's probably urine. Okay, everybody in? Great!

[The cab drives off.]

First Drive[]

[Sam drives across the river as Lola and Milo sit in the passenger seat.]

Sam: So... you're dead, you're in Hell, it's bewildering, I know. But like moving to a new place or cutting up a body, it's best to just focus on one thing at a time. So, for instance, what the fuck are we driving on right now? This is the River Styx. It's an immaterial, trans-dimensional spirit-course that connects all the little islands of Hell. And provides ferrywomen like a job. It used to cost money... But then someone upstairs finally realized we don't really have an economy down here. So now it's free to the public.

Lola: Huh. I thought the River Styx was like a myth. Like... cat outfits what they actually enjoy wearing.

Lola: Um, "islands" of Hell? Hell isn't just like one big landmass?

Milo: Okay, that's... nice of them, I guess.

Sam: What you think of Hell is what's called the Nine Circles, the, uh, conturbation where everyone gets tortured during punch in. But outside the Nine Circles is an infinite chain of islands we call, "Nowhere." And it's what you're in now. God's coloring book, I guess you could say? Everything comes from the abstract, the abyss. The "outer realm" where He set his dark materials. It's a long story. Longer than we have time for. Right now, at least... But hang tight, we're almost there.

Down 1st and Izzard[]

Sam: Okay, here we are. Watch your step getting off. I know sometimes you kids like to play at the shore, but you fuckers sink fast, so... And I ran outta the house without my flippers today, so. Just keep your eyes on each other's toes.

Lola: Hey, I played water polo in gym class voluntarily, okay? Milo and I can eggbeater like our lives depend on it.
Sam: I'm sure you can, Lola. I'm--I'm sure if you were on the Titanic, we'd have a lot more Polish people today. But things are a little different here, so just do what I say and stay out of the river.

Lola: "Play at the shore?" How young do you think we are?
Sam: Look, until you turn two hundred you should require a car seat. Your brain's basically a litter box a cat died in.

Milo: You've had to jump in after people?
Sam: Well sometimes they'll have like a cool watch or something, you know. Shame for that to get lost.

Sam: So not that either of you asked, but this is 1st and Izzard-- I think the tourism board calls it "The Bludgeoning Capital of Nowhere." So, uh, use that information as you will. Just don't shake everybody's hand, is what I'm sayin'. And look at peoples' shoes when you talk to them.

(If interrupted by hanging people during making of the next choice)

Sam: Anyways, like I was saying, this is 1st and Izzard. There's a lot of cultural stereotypes about these people and none of them are especially flattering. A lot of sweat and hair. A "wet hay ride" is a euphemism for sex here.

Lola: "1st and Izzard?" Why is it called 1st and Izzard?
Sam: How the Hell am I supposed to know? Why is New York called New York?
Milo: It's named after the Duke of York.
Sam: Oh thanks, braniac. Why don't you lecture us on what a rhetorical question is next.

Lola: So, like, people live here?
Sam: Uh, well, nobody really lives in Hell. We're all just kinda part of it.

Milo: But we're, like, we're okay, right? We're safe.
Sam: Safe as houses.

Milo: Wait, why'd he come here? If it's so dangerous--I mean, these are the types of people you think we should know?

Sam: They're the only types you can know. If you wanted a different crowd, you probably shouldn't have drowned all those kittens.

Milo: We didn't drown any kittens, okay? I would never do that.

Lola: Yeah, you're pretty allergic.

[Lola and Milo will walk past three hanging bodies from the lampposts, which begin to shout at them.]

Hanging Man: Hey hey! Sam! Sam!

Sam: What!

Hanging Man: Did you-- did you hear the one about the blind guy who walked into a bar?

Hanging Woman: He walked into the table and chairs next!

Hanging Man: Hahaha!

Hanging Woman: Hohoho!

Sam: Get some better material!

Hanging Man: How?!

[Lola can talk with a demon roasting foood over a garbage dumpster fire.]

Lola: Um, what are you guys eating?

BBQ Demon: Whoever he was, he tastes like a prick.

[The group will walk past a vomimting demon.]

Sam: Hey! Excuse me, we're trying not to get dumbass all over our pants here.

[Eventually, the group will reach the Schoolyard Strangler.]

Bouncer: I warned you like eighteen Goddamn times; you'll get your stomach back when you learn to behave.

[The bouncer tosses someone out onto the streets.]

Bouncer: Sam. Hey, how's it going.

Sam: Eh, pretty good, pretty good. Is, uh, Forny in there?

Bouncer: Forneus, yeah. He's fiddlin' with his dick somewhere. Are the kids with you?

Sam: Yeah, they're cute, right? I'm playing tour guide on my coffee break.

Bouncer: Alright, well. Anything happens, I get their hair.

Sam: Okesmokee. Who's drinkin' cause I'm buyin'. Just kidding. You can drink for free, 'cause we're in Hell.

Lola: Is Forneus like a, uh, a demon drinking buddy or something?
Sam: He's a middle manager in the Fifth Circle. Sometimes he makes requests, you know, specific souls for his department... I think some tech start-up guy had a heart attack sport-hunting homeless people in Portugal, so... maybe it's that.

Lola: So, we're gonna be alright in there. Right?
Sam: Sure. Just, uh, tuck your arms into your shirt sleeves.

Sam: So, whenever you're ready... The door is just right here for entry into the first bar of your magical adventure. Where we can drink and talk more. And everything will progress.

[Lola can talk to the person who was thrown out by the bouncer, lying unmoving on the pavement.]

Lola: You, um, okay?

Milo: Uh--I think he's taking a time out.

[Lola must enter the Schoolyard Stranger.]

Lola: Here goes nothing...

Tommy's Death Day Party[]

Entering the Party[]

[They enter the building, where someone collapses from their bar seat across the room. Thomas Tulaney walks by with a birthday hat on his head.]

Thomas: A bottle for everyone! Is that crazy? It's fun, right?

[Closer to the entrance, Danny is shown arguing with a doll demon at a table.]

Danny: My balls hadn't dropped yet! How would I think that was funny?!

[At the end of the room, a demon, Artesius, lands his ball in a cup during a game of beer pong.]

Pong Demon: BOOM! Just drink it, don't even look at me. Who's next?!

[Forneus walks towards the group as they approach the bar.]

Forneus: Well if it isn't the smelliest pile of puke in all of Nowhere, Samantha Hill! How the Heckfire are ya?

Sam: Hey, Forny! Perfect timing. Guys, this is Forneus. Forneus, this is Milo and Lola.

Forneus: So you adopted two human children and those are the names you gave them?

Sam: I didn't pick their names.

Forneus: But you did adopt them.

Sam: They're not mine, I'm just showing them around!

Lola: We're not kids, alright! I got a savings account and everything!

Lola: We looked adorable at the Person Pound, okay? She was powerless to resist.

Forneus: Tommy's having his party upstairs. Wanna drink?

Sam: You read my mind.

Milo: Wait, Sam--

Sam: Relax! We'll get into your thing in a bit, just follow me.

Sam: What uh--what's the problem?
Milo: Look, we--we didn't want to get into it earlier but we--we actually wanna try and get home, if uh--if that's--
Sam: Okay, yeah, alright, that's, uh, that's cool, uh, yeah we can--we can get into it in a bit, just, uh--just follow me, okay?

Milo: Uh, um, a--alright.

[Sam and Forneus walk up to the bouncer, who now guards the door leading upstairs.]

Forneus: Forneus? With one F? We're just going upstairs to, uh, Tommy's deathday party.

[The bouncer steps aside.]

Sam: See you up there, kids.

[Lola can speak with the bartender.]

Lola: Um, excuse me, bartender, do you have, like, a menu or...

Bartender: Ok, ok! Gimme a second, miss, a woman ordered a Bitter Lemon Drop and I'm trying to remember if I got any eggs. Come back in a minute.

Milo: Whatever. Let's just go upstairs with Sam, Lola.

[Lola must attempt to go upstairs with Milo.]

Lola: Um, excuse me.

Bouncer: Private party.

Lola: But our friend just went up.

Bouncer: Sam? She's on the list. You ain't.

Lola: But, sir, we really need to talk to our friend. It's urgent.
Bouncer: Well, you have any other part of forever to sort it out. Talk to her, then.

Lola: You don't even know our names. How do you know we're not on the list?
Bouncer: I'm looking at you, That's more than enough information.

Lola: Uh, what if we buy you a drink? How's that sound?
Bouncer: The drinks are free.
Milo: How about we, uh, get your drink for you?
Bouncer: Demons have this thing where we can turn our ears on and off. I'm turning mine off now.

Lola: Look, if you don't want any drama, you'll slither out of the way before I take your kneecaps.
Bouncer: I can tell this is your first time having Hellcohol, so I'll give you a pass on issuing threats. But I'd have a seat now if I were you.

Lola: Okay, you're a handsome stranger, I'm an available human-- Why don't you let us squeeze past and I'll let you make me eggs benedict in the morning?
Bouncer: I can't cook. Also, I really don't like you.
Lola: [sing-songy] I'm not hearing a no...

Drinking with Tommy[]

[Tommy walks downstairs and passes the bouncer.]

Bartender: Tommy Boy! The man o' the hour...

Thomas: Hey, Father Vandyke.

Bartender: Get over here! I got a new cocktail I need reviewed.

Thomas: Well, I'll happily be your willing test pilot.

[Tommy takes a seat at the bar.]

Milo: I think that's the guy having the party upstairs. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Lola: I don't wanna wear a--
Milo: Get him to invite us up, yes. Let's get a drink.

Lola: Uh, get him to invite us up?
Milo: Get him to invite us up, yes. Let's get a drink.

Lola: [Sighs] We should get him to invite us up. Let's get a drink.

[Milo can attempt to talk to the bouncer.]

Milo: You look a little tired. Maybe you wanna take a break?
Bouncer: I might need to break something, yes.

Milo: I think, uh, the Devil wants to talk to you about, uh, where you get, uh, your, uh, cologne?
Bouncer: Remind him that he got it for my birthday.

Milo: [Sighs] How'd you get this job, anyway?
Bouncer: I was born from the scream of a dying king to do one and only one thing. Keep losers from partying.

Milo: Is there anything I can bribe you with? I left all my money in my other pants.
Bouncer: Unless it's Pennies from Heaven, I'm not interested.

Milo: Do you have to, like, lift weights or are you just, I dunno, made like this?
Lola: There's probably an "exercise", "exorcise," joke in there somewhere, right?
Bouncer: I don't think so, no.

Milo: By chance have you maybe had second thoughts about letting us up there?
Bouncer: Can't say that I have.

Milo: Can you just do me a favor and just--just go to the bathroom or something for ten seconds?
Bouncer: Demons don't have to go to the bathroom. It's just something we do for fun.
Lola: Could you do it for fun now?
Bouncer: No.

Milo: A friend is asking for you outside. A, uh, dear friend, someone you'd--you'd really like to see again.
Bouncer: That doesn't sound like me.

Milo: Okay, this--this is the last time I'm gonna ask, alright, so really think about it, okay? Do you think I'm attractive?
Lola: No!
Milo: What? Oh yeah, I mean can we go upstairs?
Bouncer: Enjoy your evening.

[Milo must get a drink from the bartender.]

Bartender: Alright, Tommy, sorry for the wait. What can I get ya?

Thomas: Oh, geez, I don't know... What's, uh, what do you recommend?

Bartender: Top shelf? A case of Lung Batter just came in.

Thomas: Oh God, too bitter.

Lola: Hey, uh, Tommy? Or, erm, Thomas, I should--I should probably--

Lola: Excuse me, barkeep, we would like a, uh--

Milo: [coughs]

Bartender: Hey! Can't you stupid pieces of shit see there's a conversation happening here?!

Thomas: [light laugh] Vandyke! It's okay! They're new--you're new, right? How you liking Hell so far? Was the suicide pact worth it? Or eating fifty raw eggs-- I don't know what young people are into nowadays.

Lola: It's not the--the worst place I've been to. That gas station off of Freemont'll still, ya know... I mean, I don't know about you, Milo, but I've seen scarier versions of Hell in Tales from the Crypt.
Milo: Let's be fair, it's scary, I'm scared, I don't--nobody take it as a challenge.

Lola: Well, it's supposed to suck, right? Would it be insulting if I said I'm kind of surprised to still have all my teeth?
Bartender: No, the insults here are typically more deliberate.

Milo: We, uh, can't really remember what got us here...
Bartender: Yeah, death'll do that.

Milo: She's Lola, I'm Milo. We're actually just trying to--

Thomas: Wait wait wait, you're new, we gotta have a toast. Do a shot with me, c'mon. Vandyke, three Brass Bulls, if you please.

Bartender: Sure thing. If you ate before you got here... You might wanna pre-throw up.

Lola: Uh, sure. Our livers are unkillable, might as well take advantage.
Milo: Wow, really? Guys, you should be honored. Lola is not the type of person for spontaneous, uh, revelry.
Thomas: Perfect, let's go.

Lola: We only have tonight to get out, Milo, before we're chewed up by serpents with baby heads or whatever, so... Maybe we should keep our heads on straight.
Bartender: "Get out?" You see any escalators around here?
Thomas: C'mon! One shot, really.

Milo: Uh, yeah, that's not the-- the worst idea in the world? Right?

Bartender: Okay, Katzenjammer Kids, listen up... Above ground booze is watered down milk, but here... this shit ain't two percent.

Thomas: Father Vandyke's been serving Hellcohol since Jesus was still overcharging for kitchen cabinets.

[The bartender pours their drinks, and they all take one.]

Bartender: Around the bend, let's go.

Thomas: Cheers!

[Lola must down the drink. Before doing so, she can wait, prompting extra dialogue.]

Thomas: Uh, Lola, the drink's not gonna bite you. Just, uh, just put the glass to your mouth and tip it upward. Whenever you're ready.

Bartender: Just drink the fucking thing!

[The three drink together.]

Milo: [coughing from bad drink]

Thomas: Ahh, goes down smooth. Now, you should notice you feel a little... empowered, right? Maybe a little freer?

Bartender: Or if you have eyeballs you'll notice you have an extra choice floating around in your brain.

Thomas: Yes, it could be said that you are now unshackled from your previous concerns of societal appropriateness.

Lola: Okay, but what if my last drink was a sip of champagne at New Year's I thought was apple juice?
Bartender: Then it's pretty fair to say that you wasted your youth.

Lola: Sounds just like college.

Lola: Hey! You're right! Feels kinda weird.^[4] Like I grew an extra toe.
Thomas: You'll get used to it.

Milo: Cool! I mean... cool?

Bartender: But be careful what you order. Different drinks affect different people different ways. Like, you know... for instance--

Drunk Idiot Demon: Hey! Jim Jum! What the fu--what the shit is that you got on your head, hahahaha.

Milo: Uh, sir, I'm not, uh, Jim Jum--

Drunk Idiot Demon: Sure you are, Jim Jum! Why I even called you--you last-- Uh, yesterday morning? At night! Yeah. You should really get a-- an answering machine, man.

Please leave, sir.
You have the wrong guy.
Please leave, sir.

Lola: Uh, excuse me, sir, but could you please--

You have the wrong guy.

Lola: Uh, buddy, we don't know any Jim Jum. 'Kay? You've got the wrong guy.

Drunk Idiot Demon: Remember that--that dance, man, when you scored all those points in the, uh, the wheelbarrow?
[If Lola drank her beer, the bartender pours everyone new drinks.]
Milo: What?
Thomas: C'mon, guys, this is a prime opportunity here to really utilize your drunken spirit! You gotta Brass Bull in you. So use it!
Drunk Idiot Demon: You remember [belches] Kristin? Boooy, was she ever a--you heard she got married?

(Say "Can we have some privacy?" or "He's not Jim Jum." or nothing)
Get the fuck outta here!
(Say "Can we have some privacy?" or "He's not Jim Jum." or nothing)

Can we have some privacy?
He's not Jim Jum.
Can we have some privacy?
Lola: Um, sir, could we please have some--
He's not Jim Jum.

Lola: That's Milo. This is not--he's not--

Drunk Idiot Demon: Are you still workin' the House of Knives? That hostess with the--she's down to party, right?
[If Lola drank her beer, the bartender pours everyone new drinks.]
Bartender: Oh, for Lucifer's sake, will you tell this moron to fuck off?
Drunk Idiot Demon: What was--what's her name? Mary? Mary... Mark? No, Mark's a dog's name... It's great to see you, man, this is great.

(Say "Uhhh..." or "Huh?" or nothing)
Get the fuck outta here!
(Say "Uhhh..." or "Huh?" or nothing)

(Say "Uhhh..." or "Huh?")
(Say "Uhhh..." or "Huh?")
Lola: Uh... I... don't...

Drunk Idiot Demon: [belches loudly] [laughs] We're--this is great, we're gonna hang out all night.
[If Lola drank her beer, the bartender pours everyone new drinks.]
Milo: Lola? Little help?
Drunk Idiot Demon: [giggling]

(Say "Guhhh..." or "U ghg ughhgh" or nothing)
Get the fuck outta here!
(Say "Guhhh..." or "U ghg ughhgh" or nothing)

(Say "Guhhh..." or "U ghg ughhgh")
(Say "Guhhh..." or "U ghg ughhgh")
Lola: Guh...

(Variant 1)
(Variant 2)
(Variant 3)
(Variant 4)
(Variant 1)
Drunk Idiot Demon: Did you--shes took--you have your car here, man?
(Variant 2)
Drunk Idiot Demon: Your voice changed. Did you-- are you sick?
(Variant 3)
Drunk Idiot Demon: What happened to your-to your pants? Why are they like that?
(Variant 4)
Drunk Idiot Demon: Where's Sally? She finally leave your ass?

[If Lola drank her beer, the bartender pours everyone new drinks.]

([Stammer mindlessly] or [Mindlessly stammer] or say nothing)
Get the fuck outta here!
([Stammer mindlessly] or [Mindlessly stammer] or say nothing)

([Stammer mindlessly] or [Mindlessly stammer])
([Stammer mindlessly] or [Mindlessly stammer])

(Variant 1)
(Variant 2)
(Variant 3)
(Variant 4)
(Variant 1)
Lola: Excuse me, guy, but--but--but you've got the wrong--
(Variant 2)
Lola: This is Milo. He's not--he's clearly not--
(Variant 3)
Lola: Uh, can--can you, uh, please, just--
(Variant 4)
Lola: Sir? Sir, we're--Milo's not--
(Loop back to Drunk Idiot Demon's last message.)
Get the fuck outta here!
(Continue onwards.)
Get the fuck outta here!

(Continue onwards.)

Get the fuck outta here!

(Continue onwards.)

Get the fuck outta here!

(Continue onwards.)

(Continue onwards.)

Lola: Hey! Dickhead! Get the Hell out of my friend's face before you start pissing me off!

Drunk Idiot Demon: Jesus, you--you don't have to raise our voice at--at me. I know when I'm not wanted. I can--I can read body languages. Where's the latrine, anyway...

Milo: See ya later!

Thomas: See? Having an extra little bit of confidence can really help keep the sailing smooth down here.

Bartender: Or, you know, it can get the shit kicked out of you. Whichever side the coin lands on. But like I was saying: Brass Bulls tend to make people a lil' ornery, but... Try different drinks for different results. Christ, I sound like a fucking car commercial.

Pong Demon: Tithead Tommy, are we having our rematch or have your balls not grown back yet?

Thomas: [Laughs] Hey, I'm coming over there, alright! Nice meeting you kids.

[Tommy walks away with the Pong Demon.]

Milo: Crap, we should--we're missing our chance, we should go ask him. Right? I mean, he's our ticket upstairs. To Sam, and, uh, her info.

Lola: Okay, let's get him.

Lola: Um, yeah, but we should probably get a drink first.
Milo: Don't have to twist my arm!
(Continue to "Milo can get a drink from the bartender.")

Milo: C'mon.
[They get up.]

[Milo can get a drink from the bartender.]

Milo: Uh, bar keep? What's, uh, on the menu this morrow's eve?

Bartender: A fine selection, lemme tell ya.

Milo: Uh, the, uh, the last one, there...
Bartender: One Bloody Stool, comin' up for Milo here, he wants a big Bloody Stool.

Milo: Uh, just give me a Famous Last Words.
Bartender: Okay, Famous Last Words.

Milo: Uh, the Great Emathian sounds pretty cool.
Bartender: A Great Emathian, alright.

Milo: A Pear of Anguish? Is it good?
Bartender: Don't ask me, I just work here.

Bartender: Girlie, what's your poison?

Lola: Uh, just same as him, I guess.

Milo: I thought... don't the demons torture the humans? How come everyone's just hanging out like it's Happy Hour at Chili's?

Bartender: Look, nobody here wants to be doin' what they're doin'. It's a job. And people understand that. Most people. And when you're shift's over you drink with whatever danging eyeball's in front of you. The nicer ones, anyway.

Milo: I don't know why but it makes this somehow even more depressing.

Milo: It's a job? Then who's the boss?
Bartender: I'll give you a hint. He co-wrote the Bible with Santa Claus. It's the Big I Am. The Million Dollar Man. God.

[The two get up. Afterwards, they overhear an argument between Danny and the doll demon.]

Danny: I thought we were friends. How could you not tell me?

Doll Demon: Why would I need to tell you dolls can't really talk!

Bouncer: Can it, you two! I warned you once, already. One more outburst, you and everyone near you are getting their feet nailed to the top of Mt. Vasectomy.

Lola: Oh wait. Maybe we should just egg those two idiots on? The bouncer will have to deal with it, and then we can go upstairs.

Milo: "The bouncer will have to--" How do you even know that'll happen? Doesn't that seem-- like, uh, advanced?

Lola: Hey, whatever you wanna do! I'm just a squirrel tryin' to--tryin' to--ugh, nevermind. I'll follow your lead. [chuckles] Dick.

Milo: [laughs] Okay.

Schoolyard Strangler Bar Options[]

[Afterwards, Milo or Lola can return to the bar and receive another drink. There is a chance someone will already be in line before the bartender can serve Milo and Lola. After a certain amount of times, the game will skip straight to the drink choice screen]

Line Demon: Uh, two Grave Robbers.
Bartender: What kind of whiskey?
Line Demon: Well if I knew I would get the third degree I wouldn't have even bothered!
[The demon leaves, and the bartender turns to Milo and Lola.]
Bartender: What can I get ya?

Line Man: Is, uh, Sheila, uh workin' tonight?
Bartender: No. And she told me to tell you she doesn't date humans, so please stop driving by her apartment.
Line Man: I'll... take it under consideration.
[The man leaves, and the bartender turns to Milo and Lola.]
Bartender: Pick your poison, kids.

Line Woman: --and then this jackass has like the nerve to get all mad that I ran over his cat. Like, "Hello!" If you didn't want someone to kill your pet maybe keep it indoors. Then, right on cue, out comes the shotgun, and I'm like--
Bartender: Here's your drink.
Line Woman: Oh! Thanks.
[The woman leaves, and the bartender turns to Milo and Lola.]
Bartender: Refresher?

Line Demon: Do you guys serve human drinks here?
Bartender: Drinks that humans drink or drinks with humans in them? 'Cause the answer for either is no.
[The demon leaves, and the bartender turns to Milo and Lola.]
Bartender: Wanna switch it up?

(Milo Variants)
(Lola Variants)
(Milo Variants)

Milo: Can you make me a Bloody Stool? If you have time.
Milo: A, uh, that one. There.
Milo: Can I get a Bloody Stool, please?

(Lola Variants)

Lola: Can I get a Bloody Stool?
Lola: Can you make me a Bloody Stool?
Lola: A Bloody Stool, my good man.

(Milo Variants)
(Lola Variants)
(Milo Variants)

Milo: Make me a Famous Last Words.
Milo: If you're not busy, a Famous Last Words.
Milo: Famous Last Words.

(Lola Variants)

Lola: Get me a Famous Last Words.
Lola: Another Famous Last Words.
Lola: One more Famous Last Words.

(Milo Variants)
(Lola Variants)
(Milo Variants)

Milo: Great Emathian sounds good.
Milo: Another Great Emathian. Or... yeah.
Milo: I think I'll have a Great Emathian.

(Lola Variants)

Lola: Another Great Emathian.
Lola: Uh, one Great Emathian, I guess.
Lola: Great Emathian.

(Milo Variants)
(Lola Variants)
(Milo Variants)

Milo: Another Pear of Anguish, if you kindly.
Milo: A Pear of... what is it again? Yeah, that one.
Milo: A Pear of Anguish... I think.

(Lola Variants)

Lola: A Pear of Anguish, please.
Lola: Another Pear of Anguish, please.
Lola: One more Pear of Anguish.

Blood Pong with Tommy and Artesius (Optional)[]

[Milo can walk over to Tommy, who's playing beer pong with the Pong Demon.]

Milo: Hey, fellas. Beer pong, huh? My--my dorm was next to the guy who won his league tournament.

Pong Demon: That's awesome! You know what'd be even more awesome? If you could stop talking and never start again.

Thomas: Hey now! Artesius, Consumer of Negligent Fathers, that's not cool. Milo, right? You wanna play a round? It's really simple. Easy to learn, hard to master, right?

Milo: Actually, we're--this is kinda embarassing, but we came over to ask if you could, uh, invite us upstairs?
Lola: Our friend, Sam Hill, is up there and we really need to talk to her about something.
Thomas: Uh, yeah, maybe? I mean, we're kind of a rowdy crowd. Maybe let's just play a round, first?
Lola: Sure, Milo will play you.
Milo: I will?

Milo: Awesome, yeah, definitely. I've always wanted to play, I've just never, you know, been--
Thomas: Asked to? Yeah, it's okay, I can tell.

Milo: I've, uh, never played before. Is it like normal Pong? Cause in that, the ball bounces back...
Pong Demon: You catch on quick! Did you die drinking bleach thinking it was just really painful water?
Thomas: Look, it's easy...

Your friend should shut his sweet mouth. (Flirty Floozy)
Your friend better watch it. (Prison Bully)
Your friend should shut his sweet mouth. (Flirty Floozy)

Milo: Hey, tell your friend to shut his sweet, wet mouth before I take him out back and give him an education in manners.

Your friend better watch it. (Prison Bully)

Milo: Tell your diseased-looking friend to shut his damn mouth before I take him out back and give him an education in manners.

Lola: Yeah, school's in session, so don't be late. He doesn't like writing... tardy slips.
Pong Demon: Oh? And what are you gonna do about it if I don't?
Thomas: Artesius, c'mon now.
Pong Demon: No, I wanna hear it from the big man. C'mon.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" or "Let's just play."
You're getting me all hot and bothered. (Flirty Floozy)
I'll mess you up, boy! (Prison Bully)
(Say nothing.)
"Nothing! Nothing at all!" or "Let's just play."

Milo: Uh, nothing will happen, nothing at all. Let's just play, okay? Uh, keep things civil. I'm sure Lola doesn't want anyone's blood on her clothes.
Lola: Your blood--
Milo: Or his blood, I mean--wait, can demons--do demons bleed?
Thomas: Let's just play, c'mon.

You're getting me all hot and bothered. (Flirty Floozy)

Milo: I can't tell if it's your hideous face or your trash heap musk, but you're getting me all hot and bothered over here.
Pong Demon: Well, I can't tell if this is intimidation or if you're just trying to take me out for an awkward coffee date.
Lola: Yeah, neither can I. Wanna splash some water on your face?
Thomas: Let's just play, c'mon.

I'll mess you up, boy! (Prison Bully)

Milo: Hey, I'll mess you up, alright. I have like six million hours of fighting games under my belt. And studies have shown you can learn by osmosis.
Pong Demon: Well, can't wait to see your learnings.
Thomas: Let's just play, c'mon.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: You're a real cock gobbler, you know that?
Thomas: Yeah, of course. It's kinda his job. If you beat your kids, he's gonna eat your dick.
Pong Demon: Most this quarter in any division.
Thomas: Let's play a round, c'mon.

Lola: Uh, we're just trying to find our friend, but thanks anyway.
Thomas: We'll be here!
Pong Demon: Away from you!
(Skip to "If they rejected the pong game before, (...)")

Pong Demon: Lola? Okay? You and me, bright eyes. I'm going to wreck you.

Milo: Lola? Do you want to, uh, to play?

Lola: Uh, let's get a rain check. Yeah. I heard the party upstairs is pretty cool, though, so.
Pong Demon: "Let's get a rain check." Can this doofus be anymore of a dingus?
Milo: Hey! So--so she says things like "rain check." That doesn't make her a--a dingus!
Demon 3: But it does make her a doofus.
Pong Demon: Come back when you have some hair on your balls.

Lola: Uh, yeah, sure. Might as well learn Blood Pong while I can still say I'm new.

Lola: Let's dance.
Milo: Fuck him up, Lola!

Lola: That was your first mistake. Your second will be not shaking my hand after I destroy you.
Milo: Fuck him up, Lola!

Lola: I dunno, I kinda like Milo's and your's energy together more. Can't I just be an impartial observer?
Pong Demon: I want you, not your pickle jar opener.
Milo: Yeah, it's okay. Right now I'd rather watch and see what, uh, the consequences are.
Pong Demon: What. Say. You!

Uh, in a bit...
Let's dance.
Uh, in a bit...

Lola: Uh, let's get a rain check. Yeah. I heard the party upstairs is pretty cool, though, so.
Pong Demon: "Let's get a rain check." Can this doofus be anymore of a dingus?
Milo: Hey! So--so she says things like "rain check." That doesn't make her a--a dingus!
Demon 3: But it does make her a doofus.
Pong Demon: Come back when you have some hair on your balls.

Let's dance.

Lola: Let's dance.
Milo: Fuck him up, Lola!

Milo: Let's--let's put a--a pin in it, for now.
Pong Demon: Come back when you have some hair on your balls.

(If they rejected the pong game before and return)

Milo: Hey, uh, Father Eater. Still wanna play my friend?
Pong Demon: I still wanna annihilate your friend, yes.
Lola: Rock and roll, bitch.

Pong Demon: Gather round, everyone, this chickadee thinks she's a rooster, already. Well I eat people who eat roosters for breakfast.

Crowd: Ooooooo...

Milo: Hey, alright, you make more well wishers with honey than with vinegar...

Thomas: [Laughs] No, it's okay, guys! We really pride ourselves on our ability to trash talk down here. It's like... even if you lose... if you got in a few good verbal jabs along the way, a few witty rejoinders...

Pong Demon: Yeah. So take your shot, shithead.

Thomas: Or you can just call eachother names, you know, whichever's faster.

[Red solo cups materialize on the table as Lola takes aim.]

Pong Demon: Oh, are you chicken, now? Should we bring out the oven, get a roast going? Throw the fuckin' thing!

[During the first three rounds, as Pong Demon is throwing his ball, Lola will get the opportunity to trash talk him.]

Lola: Don't miss...

Lola: You're, uh, going down, ass--asswipe.

Lola: Don't get too comfortable. This'll take about as long as your dick.
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

Lola: Wait, should I tell the hostess to get us a high chair? Or can you see over the table?
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

Lola: Hey, uh, Artesias? The ugliest babies come from what sexual position, again?
Pong Demon: How the fuck should I know?
Lola: Well ask your Mom for me, would ya?
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

Pong Demon: Yeah, you already threw your life away so you should be in practice. Shit or flush, honey.

Lola: No batter, no batter, no batter... sa-wing, batter...

Lola: Why--why bother? You'll probably just, like, miss...

Lola: Hey, shouldn't there be an Amber Alert right about now? This asshole's skills are missing.
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

Lola: Are you worried that if you lose, your friends will like us more? Cause... too late.
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

Lola: I can tell you're going for some kind of a look, dude, but I don't know if you know how far you're missing.
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

Pong Demon: Spoiler alert: she's a fucking idiot. Shake and bake, skin bag! Shoot it or lose it!

Lola: Throw some strikes! Wait, what is it called when it goes in?

Lola: You--you're just bad at this!

Lola: Tell me the truth... when you were born, the condom manufacturer had to issue an apology, right?
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

Lola: The problem with things like you is that they don't even know how fucking stupid they are-- The bartender here could say, "Drinks are on the house," and you'd get a damn ladder.
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!
Pong Demon: Ha ha ha!

Lola: Look, I'm really sorry you look like that, but losing to me isn't going to help.
Crowd: Ooooooo...
Thomas: Ha ha ha!

[As either Lola or Pong Demon succeed or miss, lines of dialogue are spoken. After each success one player obtains, the other takes a drink from their cup and tosses it aside..]

Pong Demon: If I could feel bad about anything, I'd almost feel that for you.
Pong Demon: Does your family know you're this bad at this? Because someone should tell them.
Pong Demon: Someone put her out of her misery, Jesus.
Pong Demon: Typical.
Milo: Don't worry about it.
Milo: You'll get it next time.
Milo: Good try!
Milo: Oof, close!

Pong Demon: You get lucky in Hell once a century, so I hope that was worth it.
Pong Demon: First you graduate clown college, now this.
Pong Demon: Which angel's ass did you tickle for that one?
Milo: Thank God you're playing.
Milo: Awesome!
Milo: You're good!
Milo: Nice!

Pong Demon: Fuck.
Pong Demon: If I had a controller, I'd throw it.
Pong Demon: Fuck this!
Pong Demon: Eat my shit, goddamnit.
Pong Demon: [scoffs]
Pong Demon: C'mon!

Pong Demon: See that?
Pong Demon: There we go.
Pong Demon: Ha ha ha!
Pong Demon: Enjoying this, yet?
Pong Demon: Boomshakalaka.

Milo: Picture victory and victory will be yours!
Milo: Lola, it's all you, you got this.
Milo: Lola, let's go!
Milo: C'mon, Lola.
Milo: You can do it, Lola.
Milo: You can do it!
Milo: Lola, I think you're up.
Milo: Just throw the thing in the thing, Lola, and you'll have done what you should.

Pong Demon: I cannot believe this shit! My arm was tired from stabbing and eating fathers all day! This isn't fair--this isn't fair!

Good game, man.
Hey! I won!
Hahahahahaha! (Drunk)
(Say nothing.)
Good game, man.

Lola: Hey, c'mon, good game, man. You kept it... close?
Milo: Oh please, you flattened him! He can't remember where his fucking house is!

Hey! I won!

Lola: Hey! Oh I cannot believe it! I won!
Milo: And you lost! Even though you're bigger and have lights shooting out of your eyes.

Hahahahahaha! (Drunk)

Lola: Ha ha ha ha ha!
Milo: Ha ha ha! Yeah!

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Did that sting? It looked like it stung.

Pong Demon: God! This is gonna ruin my whole week.
Thomas: [Laughs] Man, you got the luck of a white Protestant, kid. I'm inviting them, alright?
Pong Demon: Eh... they're goofy looking enough.
Thomas: You guys wanna hang out, more, I'm throwing a little party upstairs. Just tell the big guy your name, I'll put you on the list.
Milo: Awesome, thanks.
[Thomas and the Pong Demon walk away.]
Milo: You're awesome. Let's go get Sam before he looks at us again and changes his mind.

Pong Demon: Boom. What'd I tell you! Huh? Humans are good for two things... Beating them in beer pong and eating their babies.

Yeah. Whatever.
You're good!
I wasn't even trying. Dick. (Liquid Courage)
Watch your back. (Prison Bully)
Eat a dick. (Flirty Floozy)
(Say nothing.)
Yeah. Whatever.

Lola: You're ten million years older than me and barely won. Good job.
Pong Demon: I barely play this! I'm better at Hell's version of quarters, which is quarters but less evil.

You're good!

Lola: What can I say. When you're good, you're good, and you are good.
Pong Demon: And when you're a little baby shitbird... you're you.

I wasn't even trying. Dick. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Hey, dick-for-brains, I wasn't even trying, what do you think about that.
Pong Demon: What do I think about it? I think I can smell a liar when they're a cat fart away from me.

Watch your back. (Prison Bully)

Lola: Watch your back, Artesius. My hobbies include not losing, and plotting intricate revenge scenarios when I fail my first hobby.
Pong Demon: You should try quilting.

Eat a dick. (Flirty Floozy)

Lola: Go do your job and eat a dick, buddy.
Pong Demon: I was going to on the way home, what do you think about that?!

(Say nothing.)

Milo: And demons are good for--for one thing! They're--they're good... uh... for uh...
Pong Demon: At everything, yeah, we know.

(Made a good comeback)
(Didn't)
(Made a good comeback)

Thomas: Alright, alright. The kid's still a hoot, right?
[Thomas will reference the last drunken comeback Lola made.]

Liquid Courage
Prison Bully
Flirty Floozy
Liquid Courage

This won't take long.
I'm gonna declare an Amber Alert.
You were born a mistake.
This won't take long.

Thomas: "This'll take as long as your dick!"

I'm gonna declare an Amber Alert.

Thomas: "Shouldn't there be an Amber Alert?"

You were born a mistake.

Thomas: "An apology from the condom manufacturer!"

Prison Bully

Bring out the high chair!
Your friends like us more...
You're a goddamned idiot.
Bring out the high chair!

Thomas: "Bring out the high chair!"

Your friends like us more...

Thomas: "Your friends like us more!"

You're a goddamned idiot.

Thomas: "Drinks are on the house!" C'mon, she's a howler.

(Say nothing.)

You're fucking gross, dude.
Christ, you're ugly as shit.
I'm sorry you look like that.
You're fucking gross, dude.

Thomas: "Ask your Mom for me?"

Christ, you're ugly as shit.

Thomas: "Sneak up on a mirror!"

I'm sorry you look like that.

Thomas: "Sorry you look like that!"

Thomas: C'mon, she's a howler. I'm inviting them, alright?
Pong Demon: Eh... they're goofy looking enough.
Thomas: You guys wanna hang out, more, I'm throwing a little party upstairs. Just tell the big guy your name, I'll put you on the list.
Milo: Awesome, thanks.
[Thomas and the Pong Demon walk away.]
Milo: You're awesome. Let's go get Sam before he looks at us again and changes his mind.

(Didn't)

Thomas: It was, uh, nice meeting you Milo. Lola. Work on those comebacks! I'll be around.
Milo: Shit, We're getting freezed out. It's like Marcy's birthday all over again... except without the E Coli outbreak.
Lola: Let's just see what else is going on.

Milo: Need a drink?
Lola: Got one. I'm good.

Milo: [Sighs] Oki Doki.

[If Milo and Lola successfully got invited, they must go to the bouncer and head upstairs.]

Milo: [clears throat] Ahem...

Bouncer: Forget something?

Lola: Good sir, I believe we're on... the list.

Bouncer: Your parents must be proud.

[The bouncer steps aside.]

Milo: Thank you!
Bouncer: [flat] You're welcome.

Milo: You know what? You know what-- they are proud of us!
Bouncer: I just said that.

Milo: Hey, you know-- we-- we should be friends, seriously. What's your name? Do you-- do you have a name, do demon bouncers have names or are you like-- like a doorknob or something.
Bouncer: [deep sigh] I hate this job.
Lola: C'mon, buddy, let's keep the pogo stick hoppin'.

Milo: Know your place, or I'll be happy to give you an education. My office hours are between eight and four thirty and I don't work Jewish holidays.
Bouncer: [deep sigh] I hate this job.

Milo: And I'll see you... on the dance floor. For dancing.
Bouncer: [deep sigh] I hate this job.
Lola: C'mon, buddy, let's keep the pogo stick hoppin'.

Provoking Danny and the Doll Demon (Optional)[]

Lola: Hey, uh, guys, having--having a problem over here? 'Cause maybe we can exacerbate the issue into a real disturbance--I mean, uh, help with whatever your thing is.

Danny: Look, if you work here or something, relax. I'm not gonna get into a fist fight with this asshole. I've been kicked out of enough bars in Hell to know the punishment's almost never worth it.

Doll Demon: I didn't think you'd take it so seriously!

Danny: How could I not take it seriously? I was six!

Lola: Yeah. Yeah, no, we don't work here. Do I look like I work here?

Lola: Alright. Nevermind. Enjoy your, uh, evening. I don't know why I said that part. I don't work here.
(Skip to "Left mid-conversation".)

Lola: Yeah, I do work here, buddy, so it's therapy time or I'm tossing you out on your ass. Now what's the issue?

Lola: Hey, is this asshole giving you shit?
Danny: Am I the asshole or is he the asshole--
Lola: [over him] That-- that remains to be seen. Asshole.

Lola: Yeah, I wasn't really listening to any of that, but can you guys, like, get us upstairs? There's a couple of, uh, whatever you guys are into waiting for you to dance with them...
Danny: "Whatever I'm into" wouldn't be so easily swooned, honey.

Doll Demon: Don't worry about Danny, okay? He's just a little steamed 'cause he found out his favorite stuffed animal from childhood--

Danny: Georgie!

Doll Demon: Right, *Georgie,* the talking platypus. Well, he could only talk 'cause I was possessing it all the time.

Danny: And you don't think that's a betrayal!

Doll Demon: It was a joke! I'm happy to see you, man!

Danny: I don't know you man!

Lola: Wait, I'm confused... the demon was your doll? What's happening?
Doll Demon: Okay, look, I had like two months shore leave saved up and--
Danny: So he decides to inhabit a little boy's doll!

Lola: And so, why are you pissed? This sounds like something every little boy prays to the Tooth Fairy for.
Danny: My principal and six kids died in a school fire he started!
Doll Demon: Not from the fire! From the smoke!

Lola: Jesus, what a scary motherfucker. And I thought the shapes my slinkey made were off-putting.
Danny: Yeah, you don't mess with a boy's childhood like that. I mean, did you even like Norman Rockwell?
Doll Demon: Hey, it was a goof!
[Danny gets up.]
Danny: It wasn't a goof to me, dickwad!
Doll Demon: Hey! If I have to warn you one more time--
Danny: I'm sitting! I'm sitting!

Lola: Eh, if you were me, and you aren't cause you're a bit of a wimp, but if you were me-- --you'd quit yappin' and just sock the son of a bitch.
[Danny gets up.]
Doll Demon: Hey, it was a goof!
Danny: It wasn't a goof to me, dickwad!
Doll Demon: Hey! If I have to warn you one more time--
Danny: I'm sitting! I'm sitting!

Lola: That--that is so great. Jesus. I mean, not that I can talk--I used to hump my stuffed animals before I knew what the word "burgeoning" meant.

Danny: I got sent to an institution 'cause no one would believe me! I still can't take a piss without carrying a spork for protection!

Doll Demon: Okay, okay, calm down, I don't want the bouncer taking any of my good organs. And anyways, you asked me to staple your baby sister's feet to the floor.

Danny: I was six years old! I thought the Easter Bunny was real-- I-I didn't comprehend what was going on!

Lola: Uh, do either of you know Thomas by chance? Maybe... get us on his Death Day list?
Danny: If you wanna go upstairs, the door's right there.
Lola: Uh, with a very large demon blocking it, so can you, uh, just--

Lola: Um, why are you in Hell, anyway?
Doll Demon: He ran a Ponzi scheme on some nurses.
Danny: You said you didn't look at my file!

Lola: Boy, his cavalier attitude towards your PTSD must make you pretty fucking mad, right?
Doll Demon: It's nothing worth getting angry about! I just fooled you for nine straight months, that's all!

(Danny hasn't stood up yet)
(Danny has stood up before)
(Danny hasn't stood up yet)

[Danny gets up.]
Danny: It wasn't a goof to me, dickwad!
Doll Demon: Hey! If I have to warn you one more time--
Danny: I'm sitting! I'm sitting!

(Danny has stood up before)

(Skip to "Danny stands up and pulls out a knife (...)")

Lola: Hey, don't let this little assface call your shots, Danny-- If you want drama, make the damn drama-- he fucked up your whole life!

(Danny hasn't stood up yet)
(Danny has stood up before)
(Danny hasn't stood up yet)

[Danny gets up.]
Danny: It wasn't a goof to me, dickwad!
Doll Demon: Hey! If I have to warn you one more time--
Danny: I'm sitting! I'm sitting!

(Danny has stood up before)

(Skip to "Danny stands up and pulls out a knife (...)")

Lola: Danny, c'mon. You had to know. Maybe you even enjoyed it a little? Right? You sick weirdo.
Doll Demon: Of course, he enjoyed it! You loved when I broke your dad's leg or made your mom think the cat could talk.

(Danny hasn't stood up yet)
(Danny has stood up before)
(Danny hasn't stood up yet)

[Danny gets up.]
Danny: It wasn't a goof to me, dickwad!
Doll Demon: Hey! If I have to warn you one more time--
Danny: I'm sitting! I'm sitting!

(Danny has stood up before)

(Skip to "Danny stands up and pulls out a knife (...)")

Doll Demon: Look, I just came over to say, "Hi," okay? And I don't hold any bad feelings about you plunging that crucifix into my felt and cutting off my vacation early...

Danny: You don't have any bad feelings?! You don't have any!

Bouncer: Keep it down, guys, or I'm coming over there. And you're not gonna like it when I do.

Lola: Man. Friendships, huh? Makes you wonder why they're not called friend-slips. Right? 'Cause they're hard to--they're hard to keep a hold of?
Milo: Ugh, this isn't going anywhere. We'll just see you guys around.
Danny: What you're gonna see is my foot up this guy's ass is what you're gonna--
Doll Demon: Oh, hush.
(Skip to "Left mid-conversation".)

Lola: Well, uh, Danny, we'll, uh, see you around... I guess?
Danny: What you're gonna see is my foot up this guy's ass is what you're gonna--
Doll Demon: Oh, hush.
(Skip to "Left mid-conversation".)

Lola: Oh dear Lord, can you just fuck this little demon shitstain up, already?!
Doll Demon: [laughing] Hey, what the Hell did I do except push your Grandmother out through your highrise window?

Lola: Stomp 'em into the ground, Danny, c'mon! What are you waiting for! He's sitting right here!
Doll Demon: [laughing] Hey, what the Hell did I do except push your Grandmother out through your highrise window?

Lola: You know, you could really cut the sexual tension here with a damn butter knife.
Danny: Sexual tension! You think I even like this guy?
Doll Demon: Hey, what the Hell did I do except push your grandmother out through your highrise window?

Milo: Well, you both seem like very well-adjusted individuals but we're, you know, gonna--gonna take a lap. Maybe we'll see you later?
Danny: Goodie.
(Skip to "Left mid-conversation".)

(Left mid-conversation)

Milo: Yeah, uh, we, didn't exactly get them to cause a scene, did we? But if you wanna keep poking the beehive?
Lola: I don't know. Maybe we should try your thing--talking to Tommy, just getting on the list.
Milo: Whatever you wanna do!
[Lola and Milo can--or, if they failed to appeal to Tommy, must--speak with Danny and the Doll Demon again.]
Milo: Hi again!
Doll Demon: Yeah, Hi--Danny, what do you want me to say, huh? [Laughing] I'm sorry for making everyone think you wrote those messages in blood on your Mom's bathroom mirror, alright?
Danny: Don't laugh! This shit isn't funny!
[Lola and Milo can--or, if they failed to appeal to Tommy, must--speak with Danny and the Doll Demon again.]

(Say "Whoops, nevermind. [Leave]" or "I'm not getting involved. [Leave]" or nothing)
[Laugh] (Drunk)
(Say "Whoops, nevermind. [Leave]" or "I'm not getting involved. [Leave]" or nothing)

"Whoops, nevermind. [Leave]" or "I'm not getting involved. [Leave]"
"Whoops, nevermind. [Leave]" or "I'm not getting involved. [Leave]"

Lola: Uh, nevermind, I thought I had something to do with this.
Danny: You don't.

[Lola and Milo can--or, if they failed to appeal to Tommy, must--speak with Danny and the Doll Demon again.]

"Sorry... [Leave]" or "Thought I forgot something... [Leave]"
[Laugh at Danny] (Drunk)
(Say nothing.)
"Sorry... [Leave]" or "Thought I forgot something... [Leave]"

Lola: Sorry, thought I forgot somethin'.
Danny: You didn't.
(Loop back to start of tab.)

[Laugh at Danny] (Drunk)

Lola: [Trying to hold back laughter but can't]

(Say nothing.)

Milo: See you guys around...
(Loop back to start of tab.)

[Laugh] (Drunk)

Lola: Okay, okay, that's--I'm sorry, but it's funny, Danny, c'mon, you have to have a sense of humor about these things.
Danny: What things?! It was a possessed toy destroying my life!
Doll Demon: [Laughing] you should have seen what I wrote.

[Danny stands up and pulls out a knife, aiming it towards the Doll Demon.]

Danny: That's it, you sack of shit! You're gonna regret making me love you--I mean drowning that farmer's kid!

Doll Demon: You'll never make me regret that!

[The bouncer comes over and picks up the two by their necks.]

Bouncer: Hey, guess what guys? You won! Wanna know what you win?

Doll Demon: No.

Bouncer: Ten years in the Throat Cutter! And it hasn't been washed in centuries!

Danny: But it'll be dirty!

[The bouncer teleports away with the two. A demon walks up to the bartender.]

Demon 4: Hey, Vandyke? Where's the nearest singles bar.

Lola: Hey! My plan worked! The bouncer left! Let's head upstairs, talk to Sam before he comes back.

[Lola must head upstairs.]

Leaving the Party[]

Lola: This--uh--wait, is this even the same bar?

[A demon starts talking to them. Lola and Milo can choose to either listen to him or keep walking past onto the balcony.]

Demon 2: Welcome, welcome, to Tommy Tulaney's Death Day Celebration! I saw you two talking to Tommy downstairs--are you a victim or a fan?

Lola: Wait, the--the guy we were--that's Thomas Tulaney? The serial killer?

Demon 2: Kidnapped, tortured, and killed thirteen young men over a period of six years, yessiree bob!

Thomas: Never caught, though!

Milo: Uh, not that this isn't probably obvious, but... what's a Death--
Demon 2: A Death Day? Yeah, words can be confusing. This is Tommy's first year in Hell. We like to go full helicopter mom for the paper anniversary, don't ask me why.

Milo: But-- but he was-- he was so nice to us.
Demon 2: Yeah, you can't really slaughter a litter of boys in total anonymity without a few social graces.

Milo: This is really, really gross, guys. I mean, I know-- I know we're in Hell and you're technically a monster--
Demon 1: Thir-teen!
Crowd: Thir-teen!
Demon 1: Painful deaths!
Crowd: Painful deaths!

Milo: Just out of, uh, morbid curiosity... what's the punishment for somethin' like that?
Demon 2: Centaurs stomp his intestines out every hour and twenty minutes.
Lola: What happens during the rest of his, uh, day?
Demon 2: While his innards grow back, they regale him with boring stories about their friends' dating situations-- --the stomping part's really the break from that, to be honest.

Milo: Yeeschghgh! I can't believe we were sitting right next to him!

(Played beer pong)
(Played beer pong)

Lola: Sitting? You played fucking beer pong with the guy!
Demon 2: Oh yeah, he's pretty good at that.

Lola: Have you seen Sam?

Demon 2: Yeah, she's over on the balcony talking with Forneus.

Thomas: Hey, thanks for--for coming out, really, I appreciate it. I can't believe it's been just a year. Feels a lot shorter... and longer, you know?

Demon in Crowd 1: Oh, definitely.

Thomas: Was, uh, Capaneous not able to make it? I thought I saw him check, 'Yes' on the evite...

Demon in Crowd 1: He wanted to. He really did. It's stupid, but he's gained so much weight, recently--

Thomas: You're kidding me, that's not--

Demon in Crowd 1: No, that's not the reason, he--he actually joined a gym, if you can believe it. And he didn't want to lose on the free days they give you for signing up? I guess they expire in like a week.

Thomas: So... he had an extra week.

Demon in Crowd 1: Or less than a week, I don't know. You'll have to talk to him.

Thomas: Well... I'm just disappointed, that's all.

[Milo and Lola must walk out onto the balcony.]

Forneus: It won't take long.

Sam: How do you know it "won't take long?" Something like this could take all fuckin' week.

[Forneus notices the two kids, clears his throat, and starts walking away.]

Forneus: Lady. Gentleman.

Sam: Forny. God, that guy. You give him an inch, he takes a really long conversation. Sorry that took a while. How'd you even get up here? Someone up there doesn't mind you.

Lola: Milo here almost started a bar fight and the bouncer left his post. Is there anything but wrong lessons to take from that?
Sam: Wow! I'm impressed! Phil got involved and you still have your feet?

Lola: We sorta made friends with Thomas the Night Scalper Tulaney, so... yay.

(Won against the Pong Demon)
(Lost but appealed to Tommy)
(Won against the Pong Demon)

Milo: Lola beat his buddy in blood pong.

(Lost but appealed to Tommy

Milo: Lola here lost to his buddy in blood pong, but talked such good smack he invited us up.

Sam: Wow! I'm impressed! You're a little old for Tulaney... But with Milo's head of hair, I can-- I can see the appeal.

Milo: Lola's... overstating things. It was beginner's luck, really.
Sam: "Beginner's luck is only possible if you try," Milo. Lee Harvey Oswald taught me that.

Milo: Hey, we're-- we're cool, okay? I-- I-- I-- uh, I, uh...
Sam: Yeah, you obviously died jet skiing with-- with super models, I-- we can see that now.

Milo: What, uh, what did Forneus want? You guys seem pretty, uh, secretive.
Sam: Don't say "secretive" like that, it's disgusting. But I can't really get into it cause I don't really want to. I'll just say I think his eyes are bigger than his stomach.

Lola: Listen, Sam... it's been a fun, uh, hour or however long we've been here, but... We really--we really wanna get out. If possible. We just--we want to go home.

[Sam walks over to the balcony railing, overlooking the skyline.]

Sam: See that big mansion down the way? The one having the party? That's Satan's house. He throws a rager every night, invites the fuckin' universe... tries to keep everybody's spirits up. You see Hell's been in a bit of a... low period, recently. And by recently I mean like the last thousand years. Nowhere and the Nine Circles... they used to be a place of--ya know--creativity... ...of uncompromised refusal to go to bed when you're told. We were the... scribbled-in margins in God's field guide, you know? And now... well... Now people just like to get shitfaced. And I don't really know who we are anymore.

Milo: Okay, but why are you telling us this? I feel like I'm talking to my Uncle about how great Brooklyn used to be--
Sam: I'm telling you this cause it deserves context.
Lola: What deserves context?

Milo: Oh, so Hell's terrible, is that what you're saying? Why am I not shocked?
Sam: Look, I'm telling you this cause this deserves context.
Lola: What deserves context?

Milo: Get to the fucking point, Sam-- if you want us to sign a petition to bring a baseball stadium here or something--
Sam: Look, I'm telling you this cause this deserves context.

Lola: What deserves context?

Milo: Just tell us how to bust out of this joint, okay-- I don't need the history lesson.
Sam: Look, I'm telling you this cause this deserves context.
Lola: What deserves context?

Milo: You're... hitting on me, right? Cause I'm getting strong, uh, flirty vibes--
Sam: No, Milo, no, but hey, other than your species, complexion, height and personality, you're exactly my type.
Milo: Thanks!
Lola: What's the end of the page here, Sam?

Lola: What's the end of the page here, Sam?

Sam: You see, chums, there's one old practice that's stayed around... And Satan has a standing offer... to anyone who wants to try... You outdrink him, you outparty him, you earn his respect... he opens the door and lets you go back home. Back to Earth. Alive. To do whatever you want to do until you die of something else.

Milo: Wait wait wait, he-- he "opens the door?" What does that mean? He can let us go-- any of us, at any time, but he just chooses not to?
Sam: Look, I know you're like twenty two so you think you're Einstein's smarter cousin, but... it's knottier than that.
Lola: How much knottier?
Sam: Christmas lights in a storage bin knotty.

Milo: Okay. Well... has anyone ever, like, done it?
Sam: Oh sure. I mean, not since... when was Buddha farting around, again?
Lola: Five hundred years before Christ.
Sam: Okay, well, there ya go. And I think there was a velociraptor before him.

Milo: Why didn't you say so? This is gonna be like inviting a mini-pig to a being adorable contest. We can skip the pageantry, just lead us directly to the ring ceremony.
Sam: [laughs] I appreciate the confidence.

Lola: Okay, so, yeah, okay--um... but you're saying the only way out of Hell is... outdrink the Prince of Lies?

Sam: We call him the Prince of Partying down here, but, yes,, you have to outparty the Prince of Partying.

Lola: Okay.

Sam: Lola. Milo. Welcome to the show. Now if you don't mind, I got other fares to pick up, so if you wanna head to Lucifer's... now's the time.

Lola: Well there's nothing else to do, so... yeah, let's go.

[After getting outside, Lola begins to speak with Sam.]

Lola: How, uh, long have you been a cab driver? Or, uh, a-- a psycho- psychopomp?

Sam: Oh, a good long while. Since I've been here, really. You know, it's hard to complain-- I get to meet interesting clans such as yourselves-- Drift in and out of peoples' peccadillos-- I think my life'd make a good CBS sitcom, you know? I don't go on many adventures, but... I feel like I'm always strangely getting involved in random folks' deaths.

Milo: So if you're a ferryman-- woman, how did you get assigned that particular job? Is it like sixth grade P.E. where you sign up on a clipboard and hope you don't get square dancing?
Sam: Wait, you didn't like square dancing in gym class?
Lola: [chuckling] Who likes square dancing in gym class?
Sam: I would-- are you joking? But anyways, demons are born to do what they do.

(If was interrupted mid-speaking)
(If was interrupted mid-speaking)

Sam: But anyways, demons are born to do what they do.

Sam: It's called versification. "Doggerel--" it's written in their souls, conscripted since the angels came. The angels, like Lucifer... changed everything.
Milo: Satan's an angel?
Sam: The angel.

Milo: So... ever take an famous people? Like-- who would you say was your most interesting fare?
Sam: What, like in the last year?
Milo: Sure.
Sam: I took a woman once who had gotten sent to Hell-- the 1st Circle, mind you, so...

(If was interrupted mid-speaking)
(If was interrupted mid-speaking)

Sam: But anyways, I-- I took a woman once that was sent to the 1st Circle, which, you know, it's--

Sam: ... not that bad, but still-- she'd be ascribed her because she wore gold most of her life.
Lola: Wait, seriously?
Sam: Yeah, some book forbids it, I forget which one, and God made it a tenet for like a weekend in the 2nd century. She was the only one I'd ever actually met that was punished for it, though. The rules change all the time... ...it's sometimes hard to keep up with the tide.

(Asked one of the previous two questions)

Sam: Anyways... my ride's just up here.

[While walking past the lampposts, Wormhorn appears lounging on top of one of them.]

Wormhorn: Hey! My skin sponsors!

Wormhorn: The guy that thinks no one ever cheated on him--

Wormhorn: The guy that thinks everyone cheated on him--

Wormhorn: --and the gal that thinks she's going to run a mid-level ad agency one day, reach for the stars.

Wormhorn: --and the gal that wants to be a housewife with one and a half kids, reach for the stars.

Wormhorn: Havin' a good adventure so far? I'm just about to clock in, just wanted to-- wanted to let you know. Just so you're... aware. I'm really excited to hit the ground blazin'. I think we're gonna be a good team.

Milo: Uh, okay? Cool? I mean... it's not like we have any choice in the matter, right?
Wormhorn: Nope! Having insecurities and being as smart as a dolphin are a package deal. But we'll have fun. Or I hope we will. I'm still-- I'm still new.

Milo: Uh huh... and... what does that mean, again, exactly?
Wormhorn: Oh, it means I'll be popping up here and there to mentally and spiritually agonize you... To the-- to the best of my ability, of course, I'm still new.

Sam: Personal Demons are like mayflies or-- or dimestore gossip, kids, they flare up like fireworks from the chorea imaginativa-- the-- the-- the pits of Unus Mundus, but they can only hurt ya if, you know-- you're too poor to afford therapy.

Wormhorn: Yeah, it's hard, okay-- animals, plants give demons somethin' to work with-- Most organisms fear being eaten or-- or not dying quickly enough while being eaten-- But humans are afraid of, like, not making money. Or dying before using a sex swing, like-- You people get nervous when you see a car drive on the sidewalk--how am-- how am I supposed to work with that?

Sam: It's your job, Mary. More than your job-- it's like the entire reason you have thumbs.

Wormhorn: Yeah I know, I know, I'm not complaining.

Milo: Well... good luck? I'll try to act really, uh, sad or whatever when you show up with a picture of my favorite dead Aunt.
Wormhorn: Oh, c'mon, I think we can do a little better than that!

Milo: Can't you just, like, leave us alone? Go play a round of Hell golf, take the-- take the day off?
Wormhorn: Can you 'take the day off' from having to go to the bathroom? Then no, I can't take the day off.
Milo: Well actually some days I don't go at all, so--

Wormhorn: Anyways, I'll see you around when you least expect it mwhahahaha. Oh, quick reminder--

Wormhorn: Crowds... against 'em? You didn't like 'em, right?

Wormhorn: Crowds... like 'em? You liked 'em, right?

Wormhorn: Crowds... you wanted to escape 'em? You didn't like 'em, right?

Wormhorn: Whatever, I'll look at my notes. Byeeeeeee.

[Wormhorn disappears and the three continue on towards the taxi.]

Sam: Alright, Satan's place is on Welkin Way. I figure you'd want to get there spittely-lick if you're itching to get home before your oatmeal cools. So. Whenever you're ready, we'll head over.

[Milo and Lola must get into the cab.]

Milo: [weakly] Alright, let's uh... let's meet, uh... Lucifer.

Sam: Spoken like a true necromancer. Next stop... Welkin Way.

[They drive off.]

Drive to Welkin Way[]

Milo: So... how is Satan. Like... as a person? Or... you know what I mean.

Sam: Well that's the million dollar question, isn't it, what's the Little Horn like, and-- Honestly... it's-- he's complicated. You know-- I think he gets a bit of a bad rap, and, to speak frankly, he deserves most of it... But it's not like he made all the rules, you know. He was just the first one to break 'em.

Milo: So... what's, uh, what's Satan like? Do we-- do we call him Satan, or the-- the Devil-- What's his-- actually, am I caring too much about what Satan wants? That's probably not a good thing, right?

Sam: First of all, take a-- take a couple breaths. Morningstar's used to the whole, you know... ‘Wow, it's really you, I can't believe it' celebrity fawning song-and-samba. Everybody falls into the reverence trap-- Cyrus the Great woulda shaken his hand, I mean you can't help it. But there's only two things you gotta know about the Little Horn, okay? The first is that him and his Dad had a falling out-- --after Lucifer thought he could run the family business better than his old man. He started the War, he lost the War, and so he ended up here-- --in Abaddon aka Hell aka The Place Where It Smells Like A Wet Anteater Even In Winter. And second... he didn't make the rules. But he has to enforce them. Think of him like the first kid sent to detention, and forced to become, like, a hall monitor. He knows he's a bit of a goober. And he doesn't like it anymore than you do. But he still finds time to graffiti the bathroom every once in a while.

Lola: You, uh, you ever met him?
Sam: You're gonna meet him in like ten minutes, Lola, do you really think I haven't met him, yet?
Milo: That's not saying yes...
Sam: [over him] Yes, I've met The Devil, okay, we know each other.
Milo: Well?
Sam: [a beat] As well as anyone, I guess. As well as any ferryman, anyway.

Did you two date or something?
You sound awfully cagey...
Did you two date or something?

Lola: What, did you two, like, date or something?
Sam: [laughs] No, sweetheart, Satan could find a way to kill a damn cactus let alone a relationship. He's very, uh, committed to himself, let's say.

You sound awfully cagey...

Lola: You sound awfully cagey there, Sam... I feel like I'm talking to my cousin about her trip to Jamaica with Raoul.
Milo: Yeah. What's going on?
Sam: I'm taking you to where the Devil lives, Milo, that's what's going on.
Milo: I was actually asking about Vicki-- did she-- you don't think she slept with Raoul, do you-- I mean, he's too short for her--

Lola: Okay, but he's, like, evil, thought, right? Like he invented evil?
Sam: We're talking about the serpent and the forbidden fruit, now? Well, if you ask me... he didn't invent evil. He invented dissent. Opposition. The idea of... going another way. Of putting chocolate milk in chocolate cereal and not caring if it tastes like too much. Of calling your tree house your house and your house your dirt box. Of doing your own thing. That's all.

Smells like bullshit.
Sounds like you're defending him.
Smells like bullshit.

Lola: [scoffs] Smells like bullshit, to me. Lots of assholes would say they're just ‘going their own way.'
Sam: I never said it didn't make him an asshole.

Sounds like you're defending him.

Lola: You know, I can't help but feel like you're defending him, Sam.
Sam: Morningstar doesn't need defending, Lola. He's got the best attorneys in the universe down here.

Sam: Okay, I can see the lights-- almost there. Hold on.

The Line[]

Sam: Welkin Way, last stop, watch your--watch your head.

[The three get off the boat.]

Sam: This place used to be... actually nevermind. You gotta do the hike, might as well let you discover it for yourself. Luke's is the only house--it's the big one at the top. And remember... a night out drinking usually starts a little apprehensive--songs of humanity's secrets only you and your makes know the lyrics to. Have fun. Text me at any cab stand if you need a ride somewhere! I'm usually just cleaning up puke, so.

[Sam drives off.]

Milo: You know, I always get nervous before walking into parties, like--I get the idea that everyone is gonna turn and look at me right when I get there and just know... That guy isn't cool enough to own a pair of sunglasses.

Lola: Well, don't worry about it, yet. See that giant ass line of people? I don't think we're getting in for a while.

Milo: No, there's--there has to be another way. Let's check it out.

[Lola can attempt to interact with the taxi sign.]

Milo: Wait, we shouldn't--we shouldn't leave yet until we figure out if we can meet Satan.

Lola: Ugh, okay. Mr. I Don't Want To Go Without Performing Our Entire Purpose For Being Here. I guess you're right.

[Lola can eavesdrop on and talk to a guy and woman in line.]

Woman In Line: Ughhh, my feet are really sore. They got me pushing boulders up mountains all day now-- It's good for your hamstrings but some cardio wouldn't hurt, you know?

Guy in Line: Your feet are sore--you're not the one wearing heels.

Woman in Line: I just--it gives you a little oomph. I like it when you're taller than me.

Guy in Line: I'm just saying, heeled boots for a guy isn't the best anniversary present. It's the equivalent of giving a woman the number to a plastic surgeon--"I love ya, honey, but what I'd really love is for you to have bigger tits."

Woman in Line: It's not exactly the same thing.

Lola: Is this the foundation of a--a house or something? I thought only Satan lived here.

Guy in Line: Well, yeah, now, but back in the day, this used to be the fuckin' Grover's Corners of Nowhere.

Woman in Line: Yeah, it wasn't just Satan. His Fallen Angel pals and him used to have the whole block.

Milo: Why'd they move?

Woman in Line: Eh, some folks just like switchin' up the zip code every thousand years, who knows.

[Lola can talk to two demons in line.]

Milo: This is the line to get into Satan's party, right?

Verin: None other. where's your sleeping bag and coffee pot?

Lola: Hold it! C'mon, guys, there's gotta be some faster way. Haven't any of you seen Adventures in Babysitting? If a bunch of white fourth graders can get into a jazz club--

Canfield: There's a faster way, definitely. We see people cut through every night.

Verin: Some people.

[Milo and Lola turn away.]

Milo: Let's just keep on. Maybe we can convince whoever's at the door to let us in. I mean, we don't even want to, like, "party". We just want to outdrink Satan, bada-bing-bada-boom. It'll take like ten minutes.

Lola: Alright, let's try it.

[Lola must speak with the first elevator demon.]

Lola: Um. Hello?

Elevator Demon 1: Hi! I'm Gooseneck! I'll be your First Floor Carriage for the evening. It's the only way up. Unless you somehow smuggled in rock-climbing gear.

Lola: Uh. Is this.. safe? Heights kind of give me a little anxiety...
Elevator Demon 1: Oh, I'm very safe. My last inspection and renewed certification was three months ago by one Misha Vasiliev. And she would know better than anyone, being here on account of shoving three different people down elevator shafts. Just let me know when you want to go up one.

Lola: Oh--yes... as long as this is, uh, Hell's version of an elevator and not, you know, something that's gonna, like, heh, mutilate us.
Elevator Demon 1: Oh, Heavens no, but I can understand the concern, seeing where we are and all.

Milo: Um, maybe give us a minute? And--I mean... as long as it's--as you're, uh, sturdy?
Elevator Demon 1: Oh, absolutely. My last inspection and renewed certification was three months ago by one Misha Vasiliev. And she would know better than anyone, being here on account of shoving three different people down elevator shafts. Just let me know when you want to go up one.

Initial launch lines

Elevator Demon 1: Have all your belongings with you? Great, let's go.
Elevator Demon 1: Two customers! Let's head up.
Elevator Demon 1: Don't--don't hit your head there Great, good, you're doing so well.
Elevator Demon 1: Watch your--your knees, there, okay--all in? Great.
Elevator Demon 1: Going (up/down)! One--one floor, (up/down).
Elevator Demon 1: Headed on (up/down)!
Elevator Demon 1: Two customers! Let's head (up/down).

[The elevator demon takes off.]

Lola: Ohhh shit, Jesus.

Milo: Whoahh.

Elevator Demon 1: Watch your--your knees, there, okay--all in? Great. Sorry, it's a little bumpy. I had quesadillas this morning.

[The demon lands on the second level, and Milo and Lola get out.]

Elevator Demon 1: Second floor! Dish mops, hand towels, and segregated washrooms! Just kidding! This obviously isn't a department store from the 40's. You're in Hell.

[Lola can eavesdrop on and speak to a human and demon in line.]

Demon in Line: What time is it?

Human in Line: A half hour after you asked me the last time--

Demon in Line: I mean how long have we been standing here, jackass?

Human in Line: Standing in line or standing in this exact spot?

Demon in Line: Pick one.

Human in Line: Uh, this exact spot something like two days.

Demon in Line: --and how long in line.

Human in Line: I don't know. I remember people were really excited about faxing things-- "Hey, fax my ass!" God, I don't miss the eighties.

Lola: More ruins... You know, I'm surprised the devil would let anybody live on his property. You'd think he'd want Zanzibar all for himself.

Human in Line: Oh no, quite the contrary. From what I've heard, Satan's a real people person, you know?

Demon in Line: Yeah, but didn't him and his friends have some kind of falling out?

Human in Line: Maybe they just got sick of the line.

[Lola must speak with the second elevator demon.]

Lola: Hi, we'd like to--

Elevator Demon 2: Yes, I'm perfectly safe, Christ. We all get inspected every ninety days. Do you think demons can only hold jobs they're unqualified for?

Elevator Demon 2: Look, lady, just because I'm a demon in Hell doesn't mean I'm going to "mutilate" you-- Heaven forbid. Do you cross the street when you see a gorgon carrying the groceries too?

Milo: What? No!

Elevator Demon 2: Pfft--whatever.

Lola: Uh, sorry, but are you--are you--aren't you the exact same demon on the first floor?
Elevator Demon 2: I'm Finial, the Second Floor Carriage.
Milo: Ah, different--different name. Okay. We'd like to, uh, go up please.

Lola: Yeah yeah yeah, just take us up one, okay?

Milo: Can we, uh, we just go up one? We'd like to get to Satan's house, please.

Elevator Demon 2: Hop aboard, Slim Jims. Headed on up!

[The elevator demon takes off.]

Lola: Whoa, alright, take it--take it--take it easy...

Elevator Demon 2: I can't control the weather patterns, ma'am, and turbulence accounts for only two percent of falls. Third floor. Everybody out.

[The demon lands on the third level, and Milo and Lola get out.]

Initial launch lines

Elevator Demon 2: Goin' (up/down). Hold onto the sides.
Elevator Demon 2: Two (up/down). Doors closing.
Elevator Demon 2: Two organ donors, headed (up/down).
Elevator Demon 2: Headed on (up/down).

[Lola can eavesdrop on and talk to a man and girl in line.]

Man in Line: "I am going on a picnic and I am bringing apples, bananas, carrots, donkeys, earworms, footballs, aaaannnd..."

Girl in Line: There's a time limit here...

Man in Line: What comes after F?

Girl in Line: G.

Man in Line: I'm bringing... uh, shit.

Girl in Line: Time's up--

Man in Line: Gadzooks! I'm bringing--I'm bringing gadzooks.

Girl in Line: That's not a thing you can bring.

Man in Line: Let's change the game up--c'mon--I'm sorry I'm being whiny-- It's just my arms are starting to weigh me down.

Girl in Line: How about twenty-one questions? Only minerals?

Man in Line: Fine. I'll start--I'll think of one... just, uh, just gimme a minute.

Lola: Hey, so this ferris wheel from my nightmares looks like it's seen better days...

Milo: Maybe turning the island into a horrifying amusement park scared Satan's neighbors away...

Girl in Line: Nah. They used to die for this shit.

Milo: Then why'd they move? What was the falling out?

Man in Line: As long as it keeps the foot traffic away... don't know, don't care.

[Lola must speak with the third elevator demon.]

Lola: Hiya. Can we, uh--

Elevator Demon 3: Yeah yeah, I'll take you up. Don't have any time to learn nothin' about somebody, I guess.

Elevator Demon 3: First of all, I'm not the "same demon." I know you mother fuckers all think we look alike, but I'm Spandrel. The Third Floor Carriage.

Milo: No no no, we--we don't--

Elevator Demon 3: Best get in quick since Satan only knows when the last time I've been inspected! You wanna check my ass for tags, check my balls, see if I've been fixed?

Elevator Demon 3: And second, yeah, I've been inspected, honey, what-- You wanna check my ass for tags, check my balls, see if I've been fixed?

Elevator Demon 3: Let's just hurry you along before I accidentally mutilate you. Cause apparently that's all we demons are good for! Mutilatin'!

Milo: Okay, we've--we're getting a little in the weeds, here.

Elevator Demon 3: Hey, I'm just doing my job. I don't give a damn what you all think.

Lola: I, um--we're sorry, okay, we're just--just trying to get to Satan's house.
Elevator Demon 3: Oy, it's alright, it's just--this is my shit I'm unloadin' onto you, don't-- Don't worry about it. [sighs] It's been a long night. Cage is in motion! Headed up, people.

Lola: We'd like to go a level up, please. If this place even has an end.
Elevator Demon 3: Oh, it does. You're almost there. But, uh, watch the attitude. Sometimes our claws slip if we're not feelin' the vibe.

Milo: Please, just... we just want to get to Satan's? Uh--is it close?
Elevator Demon 3: Almost there. But, uh, watch the attitude. Sometimes our claws slip if we're not feelin' the vibe.

Initial launch lines

Elevator Demon 3: Cage is in motion! Headed (up/down), people.
Elevator Demon 3: Goin' (up/down)! Two cold ones.
Elevator Demon 3: Watch your shit, don't drop it through the cage, I'm not diving down to get it.
Elevator Demon 3: Cage closing, going on (up/down).

[The elevator demon takes off.]

Milo: Ugh, why didn't Satan just make more stairs?

Elevator Demon 3: Cause Satan likes to keep demons employed, that's why. Fourth floor. Get the fuck out.

[The demon lands on the fourth level, and Milo and Lola get out.]

[Lola must speak with the fourth elevator demon.]

Lola: Uh... h--hello.

Elevator Demon 4: Hi! I'm Baluster, your Fourth Floor Carriage. Wanna go up?

Lola: Great! Great, that's--yes, thank you.

[The elevator demon takes off.]

Milo: Your, um, associates seem a bit on edge, tonight.

Elevator Demon 4: Only the bottom and top floors have bathrooms.

Milo: Oh, okay.

Elevator Demon 4: Fifth floor! The tippity top. Xibalba. 616 Welkin Way! Everybody out!

[The demon lands on the fifth level, and Milo and Lola get out. While walking to the house, they overhear two men talking in line.]

Jerry: Oh shit, Jerry-- I mean Terry, Bicker's blowing up. Ugolino has an extra invitation.

Milo: Um, sorry, but what's-- what's Bicker?

Terry: It's the social media down here. Look at your phone, it comes pre-installed. There. See? You can get good info on what's going on in Hell.

Jerry: What's the commercials say? "Geo-tagged, user-specific--"

Terry: It's a nice way to distract from the perpetual torment.

Jerry: Or to just post pictures of your pets lying in sunlight.

Lola: Cool. Thanks for the tip. No problem.
Jerry: Now back of the line before I cut you!

Lola: Those, uh, posts aren't about us, right? I mean, there's probably another Milo and Lola here--
Jerry: No it's about you. You'll rarely see posts not about you, it's pretty user-focused.
Terry: I mean, what's the point of social media if it's not a mirror reflecting your every insecurity?

[Wormhorn strolls up to the entrance with two friends behind her.]

Wormhorn: Hey, it's Milo and Lola! Still on that mission to get out of Hell, huh. I'll just be going into the party now with my special VIP invitation! Aren't you coming? Oh wait... you can't.

Lola: Um, can we just go in with you? You can, like, mentally torture us in there if you want?
Wormhorn: "Um, can we just go in with you? You can, like, mentally torture us in there if you want?"

Lola: Are you, like, um, tormenting us now, or something?
Wormhorn: Yes, that is--that is the idea. See you inside! Or not! Cause you suck!

Milo: We'll see you inside!
Wormhorn: No, you-- we're-- I'm torturing you, this is mental torture.
Milo: Well you're just being mean, then, aren't you?
Wormhorn: That's the idea!

Wormhorn: Laugh at them, ladies.

Wormhorn's Friend 1: [cackling]

Wormhorn's Friend 2: [cackling]

Milo: Look, screw that thing, Lola, let's just check Bicker and find other people with a spare invite. Okay, cool, look-- here. There's... I see two of 'em, and we only need one.

Lola: Whatever, we'll take what we can get.

Milo: There's... there's a demon who says he needs help apprehending someone... and a woman-- Lynda-- who says she has an invite to give away. She just wants someone to get her a drink. This'll be downright easy!

Lola: Awesome, let's get back to Sam and track down these fools.

Lola: Yeah, it's not gonna be that easy. See this huge line? If it was that simple they'd all run off an bargain with these losers.
Milo: Nah, they're all just-- Wasn't it you who told me about that test that proved people would wrongly stand in a longer line-- just cause everyone else was doing it?
Lola: It wasn't me but whatever, it beats waiting around. Let's get back and text Sam to pick us up.

[Lola can speak to the doorman.]

Lola: Is this the, uh, the VIP entrance?

Doorman: What gave it away? Was it the everything? Move to the side if you don't have passes.

Lola: Okay, you're a demon with needs, I'm a demon w--a human with needs. What can we do to make this happen.
Doorman: You can go and get yourself an invitation.
Milo: Are you sure?
Doorman: Wait, you know, actually, let me check my math on--yep, that would be the only thing.

Lola: All we want to do is talk to Satan. That is it. Badda bing, badda boom. It'll be like we were never standing here bothering you.
Doorman: It's going to really feel like you were never standing here bothering me when you leave and I forget you exist.

Milo: Okay. Looks like those guys weren't kidding. I think we need to get an invite.

Doorman: You do.

Lola: Yep, we should regroup with Sam, figure out our next step. This is a dead end.

Doorman: It is.

Lola: Alright!

[Lola must go back to the fourth elevator demon.]

Elevator Demon 4: Wanna go all the way to the bottom or take the long way?

Lola: Eh, we'll take the scenic route. One floor at a time, please.
Elevator Demon 4: Sure thing.
[The elevator demon takes Milo and Lola down one floor. They must take each successful elevator demon, whose dialogue can be seen above.]

Lola: Express, please. The full ride.
Elevator Demon 4: You got it!
[The elevator demon takes Milo and Lola to the lowest floor.]

Elevator Demon 4: Well... lemme know whenever you wanna go somewhere!

Initial launch lines

Elevator Demon 4: Goin' back down!
Elevator Demon 4: Check your ankles, wallet chains--purses, okay.

[Once back down, Lola must return to the dock and text Sam, who arrives moments later..]

Sam: So... all partied out? Normally people are more covered in blood and viscera. But far be it from me to tell you how to live.

Lola: We didn't even get in, there's a line around the fucking world back there.

Lola: Hey, Sam, you could have warned us about the eternal line to get in. I heard someone talking about the fucking Jolof Empire-- that shit hasn't been around for like 500 years!

Milo: We didn't step one foot in the door, there's a--a huge line that wraps around the whole island.

Milo: We have a plan, though, there's--some people have invites, and some people have--have spares, so--

Sam: So you wanted to get invited to cut the line, yeah, I don't need the damn transcript. Who's tree do you wanna shake first?

Lola: There's a demon in, uh, Bobolyne Park? He says he needs help catching somebody--

Milo: But there's also a human woman who just wants a drink. So--

Lola: But we know it can't just be that or else it would've already been done. So.

Sam: Huh. A classic case of too many good ideas. It's like the Thirty Years War all over again. Guess you got some picking to do!

[Milo and Lola must choose to either follow the human, Lynda, or the demon, Fela.]

Milo: Let's try Lynda, first... right? I know it sounds too easy, but... maybe it is.
Lola: I just want on the record that this is a trap, okay? A trap of inconvenience!
Sam: You're not like crazy fans of Lynda's, right? Cause she's not too big into autographs. Or meeting people.
Lola: Why would we be fans? Did she, like, murder a--a deposed... baby... king or something--?
Sam: She used to be the lead singer of that witchy-witch band Mercury Wyrm back in the 70's.

Is she famous?
You think she'll give us her invite?
Is she famous?

Lola: So... she's famous, right?
Sam: Yeah, but just, you know, be, uh, cool. And don't bring up her old band.
Milo: What happened with her old band?

You think she'll give us her invite?

Lola: But do you really think she'll give us her invite just for buying her a drink?
Sam: Uh, maybe! If that's what she said. She could use the company. But, you know, it might not entirely be up to her.
Milo: What does that mean?

Lola: Let's do the demon guy. Sounds like he needs help--it'd be, uh, it' be nice to do some good at the same time, right? Maybe we're gonna be tracking down a mass murderer or something?
Milo: I'm kind of hoping it's not that, but, yeah, sure.
Sam: Mm, looks like he works at the school. I wouldn't worry about it. But maybe I'm wrong. I usually am.

What do you think they need?
What school?
What do you think they need?

Lola: Why? What do you think they need--
Milo: Yeah, who are we catching?

What school?

Lola: What school?
Milo: There's a school in Hell?

Sam: Eh, let's leave the spoilers till your second playthrough.

Milo: What does that mean?

Sam: Let's leave all the annoying questions till then, too, okay?

Sam: Next stop, Little Rantalia.

Sam: Next stop, Bobolyne Park.

[Sam drives off.]

Invite Drive[]

Milo: Hey, so, speaking of, like, uh, music... [chuckling] Was any of that stuff about playing records in reverse to hear Satanic messages--
Sam: Was it real? Oh yeah! And not just records! TV shows, commercials-- You know bus stops have those automated recordings? Play 'em backwards and you'll hear Satan whispering Chinese nuclear codes.
Milo: Oh.
Sam: But Lucifer and rockstars have a real history, it's true-- Somethin' about needing to--to scream your ego out into the conjectural void-- is really attractive to unhallowed spirits, I guess.

Do people make music here?
Anyone famous here?
Do people make music here?

Lola: Is there music in Hell? Like... different from Earth?
Sam: Like has the chronographic and ethnological diversity in a supernatural environment developed unique harmonic genres?
Lola: No, just, like, what kind of fucked up music do demons make?
Sam: Oh, every song's about one thing, doesn't matter who's making it. "Why won't Tina call me back?"

Anyone famous here?

Lola: So, is there anyone, like, actually famous down here? Like musicians we would know?
Sam: Of course, I mean-- most famous people are down here. It's really difficult to reach a certain social stratosphere without seriously abusing, like, a small town's worth of humanity.

Sam: But music-- the creative arts has always been a thing for the damned. Slavery let the self-possessed invent crap like trumpets and it's hard to really break from that lineage, you know? Anyways, we're almost there. Don't let on that you know Lynda. She's kind of embarrassed about her solo album, Helicopter Fuck House.

Milo: So, Sam, you said there's a--there's a school, here?
Sam: Yeah, the Nastrond School of Physical Suffering and Mental Anguish. Go Wildcats! It's where demons learn how to hurt meat puppies like you most, uh, most effectively. More pertinent to your personal predicament-- It looks like your little soon-to-be-friend, Fela, works there in, uh, Bobolyne Park. It's also where you guys just--just were. If you remember like... ten minutes ago?

What's Bobolyne Park like?
Did you go to the school?
What's Bobolyne Park like?

Lola: What's Bobolyne Park like? You know, when people aren't being "processed?"
Sam: Oh, just your typical college town. Every Spring, the students dress the trees up in goat carcasses--every Fall, the slime moats set on fire. Nothing too unusual. Picture South Bend but without all the secret Nazis.
Milo: I think at our school they'd sometimes hang, like, socks from mailboxes, so... yeah, pretty similar.

Did you go to the school?

Lola: Did you go to Nastrond? To learn how to be a psychopomp?
Sam: No, I'm strictly autodidactic down here. Not to say I haven't had teachers, just, uh, not to do this job.
Milo: So, uh, how'd you get this job?

Sam: Rightio! Almost to Bobolyne! Hold on to something, the uh--the tides can be a little choppy comin' in.
Milo: Okay. Uh, thanks for the info.
Sam: Well, Merry fuckin' Christmas. And, uh, just remember that when you sign for the tip.

Helping Fela (Optional)[]

Arrival[]

[Sam's boat pulls back up to Bobolyne Park.]

Sam: So this place should look a little familiar. You got processed here. Remember?

Milo: Yeah, I remember--

Sam: Remember that? When you were processed?

Lola: Yes, we remember--

Sam: Course you do! You don't forget a thing like that, your first promenade through Hell. Alright-- the guard post is up there, right above the bookstore. It's usually more busy on a-- what day is it? Tuesday? But... you know, whatever. It's your story.

[Sam gets back in her cab and drives off.]

Milo: I'll be honest, now that we're actually here... I'm having second thoughts.

Lola: Why?

Milo: Cause we picked a damn demon over a human being-- like, I know Sam seems cool, but... It feels like we're choosing a movie with subtitles when we just need something to fall asleep to. But I was just saying, like, I hope Fela's, uh, neat and everything, but... Trying to get a demon to help reads like an unnecessary risk. Like, why make this harder than it has to be. Right?

Lola: Yeah, this could be harder than whatever Lynda really wanted, sure, but it could also be easily--^[5]
Milo: "Just as easily be easier--," that's--

Lola: Yeah, you're just a little steamed cause we picked my plan over yours.
Milo: Yeah, what a crazy-ass plan, getting a woman a drink, what was I thinking?
Lola: Milo, c'mon, you know that was more than a jog to the ATM-- that woman wanted something else.

Milo: I just don't want this to be a repeat of March Madness.

Lola: Oh c'mon!

Milo: You were a hall monitor for a month and got half the school detention! Serpico would've let some of those-- Jack Smogor had a broken leg! You think he didn't want to get to lunch on time?

Lola: I was good at my job, okay? Jefferson Junior High didn't know what to do with all my shine.

Milo: Okay, just-- let's just see what's going on and hope this Fela guy's not on like a coffee break.

[Lola and Milo can examine the bookstore.]

Lola: Oh, I think it's a bookstore. It's nice that they still let people read.

Milo: Eh, check out the window display. Looks like a lot of self-help books about dating, autobiographies from ex-Senators, and... what's... "Irene Iddlesleigh?"

Lola: It's probably best we don't know.

[Lola and Milo can wander back to the Processing station and look at it.]

Lola: Ugh, this place again... Why does everything here smell like damp socks!

Milo: Don't worry, we're not gonna end up like... what was that guy's name again?

Lola: Which guy.

Milo: The, uh, the guy that robbed those liquor stores.

Lola: I don't even know what you're talking about--

Milo: The guy that-- nevermind, you were probably distracted by the fact that we were dead and in Hell.

Meeting Fela[]

[Lola and Milo must go upstairs, where Fela is outside the security building.]

Fela: Yeah yeah yeah no, look--yeah, I'm trying to get out of here, but--

Lola: Campus Security. Hopefully that's our guy on the phone.

Fela: I need to find the asshole first, Felicia. Mr. Rhadamanthus was very clear about-- I know an invite to Satan's is--I'll get invited again, I'm employee of the month like every other week! Look, as soon as I figure out which--which, uh, which dick and balls it is, I'll run out there and pick you up, okay? I'm--I would be working on it right now but I'm talking to you! Okay, I'll--I'll call you back when it's done.

[Lola and Milo must speak with Fela.]

Milo: Um, pardon me...

Fela: Oh Jesus, not again. How do you test humans keep escaping your pen? Okay, you two, I know the sacs smell bad but you can't just--

Lola: We're not--no. Are you Fela? Cause we're here for the spare invite to Satan's party? Your, uh, Bicker post?

Fela: Ohhhh, that. Yeah, I'm the guy you want.

Lola: Great! I'm Lola, this is Milo.

Fela: Uh huh. You look a little young... uh, random question-- were you, uh, detectives on Earth? Killed by a serial killer in a game of cat and mouse? I only know what cops are like from the TV we get here.

Milo: Yes. Detectives. Very, very, very... good... detectives.
Fela: Well I've never met a detective before but you sure talk the talk!

Milo: Uh, why does that matter? Do you need something detected?
Lola: Cause I'm really good at finding loose change in my socks!

Lola: What's the, uh, the thing you need found? Or person? Or... I guess that's it.

Fela: I just need a little help with a work thing. I'll, uh, explain on the way.

Lola: On the way to what?

Fela: Feisty's, the, uh-- Well, they call it a sports bar, but it's really just a rathole with six half-broken TV's and twenty IPA's.

Lola: So a sports bar.

[Fela begins walking towards Feisty's.]

Fela: Sorry, we sorta skipped introductions. I'm Fela, I run the campus security here at Nastrond. The job's easy enough--- Mostly catching 'example humans' the teachers use to show students where to shove cattle prods-- But recently it's been the opposite problem. Some assholes have been sneaking into Hell and the fuckers are still alive.

Lola: What?

Fela: Yeah, these twenty something pre-med idiots will put themselves into comas to vacation here-- It does a real number on the, uh, the--the gateways. It's like plugging in the wrong cord-- Smells like burning horses.

Milo: Okay, but why would anyone ever do that? It took me ten minutes to regret sneaking into that abandoned mental asylum-- and that only resulted in five tetanus shots in my neck.
Fela: It's just kids comin' here to party. For some, Miami ass just ain't enough. And some of the Catholic sororities use it for hazing, but it--it depends, you know, on the county.

Milo: Wait, that's actually, like, possible? You can come to Hell when you're still alive?
Fela: Oh yeah, definitely. This place only locks one way, you know, metaphysically speaking.

Fela: Anyway, this morning, Debbie down in dispatch told me the head-count's off. One too many. I've already checked the grounds so it's gotta be one of the folks at Feisty's.

Lola: So... why don't you just go in and get him? Or her.

Fela: Cause these Waldoes are tricky-- they know what I look like now. I need someone on the inside, a human to pick 'em out. And you two are just human enough to pass. You are-- you are humans, right? I'm not talking to like a tree right now...

Milo: Okay, so if we do this... you'll give us your extra invite?
Lola: Yeah, you're not gonna take whoever you were talking to on the phone?
Fela: Felicia? No. My roommate doesn't have dibs, that's-- I was just trying to make her feel better for accidentally eating my pants. So don't you worry about it! Once the interloper's caught, you'll get the invite, fair and square.

Milo: Okay, that makes enough sense but how are we supposed to 'pick 'em out?'
Fela: By using the tools of the security guard-- guile, gumption, a photographic memory, and, uh... I'm forgetting the last one but it's probably like a big flashlight.

Lola: We're human, we know what humans do.

Fela: So you detectives wanna help me out or not?

Fela: So you guys wanna help me out or not?

Lola: If it gets us into Satan's, we're your people.

Fela: Thank ye Gods. I could use the night out. Feisty's is just down the street, here-- won't be a tick.

[Milo and Lola can look at a statue.]

Lola: Hey, it's the Nastrond School mascots. A leopard, a lion, and a... she-wolf, hmmm.

Milo: "Established at the onset of humanity's 'Axial age' to combat ignorance of the flabby creatures' quickening development." I wonder if they let people take classes.

[Milo and Lola must approach the Feisty's.]

Fela: Hey, here we are. Before we go in, I've gone ahead and pre-prepared a backstory--cover story, if you will-- You two are Blasphemers from the Plain of Burning Sand come to try out their hot wings, and...

[A blue baby bonnet pops into existence on Fela's head.]

Fela: ...I am-- well it's self-explanatory, really-- I'm your child, your dead child you made with your bodies. While you were still living, of course, but you-- you made me with sex, with your sexual organs, I think that's how humans put it. Makes sense? Everyone-- you understand your-- your backstories-- cover stories.

Milo: I'm, uh, sorry, Fela, but I'm not really, uh-- just how does this make sense?
Lola: Yeah, are there really babies in Hell? Wouldn't they just get like a pass?
Fela: Um, no one really gets a pass for being a selfish, narcissistic sociopath. Babies get the fucking express lane here.
Lola: ...but--

Milo: Yeah, lookin'-- lookin' good. From here, at least. I left me, uh, my glasses at home.

Lola: You're supposed to be a very, uh, diseased baby, right? That's the story here?
Fela: No. I'm a perfectly healthy dead baby in Hell.
Lola: ...but--

Fela: And last but not least, we should have a password, just in case things go wrong and we have to regroup. Like uh... I'm not really good with coming up with passwords. Most of the time I just use one-two-three. I shouldn't have told you that.

Milo: Oooh, what about-- what about "The Falcon has left the nest?"
Fela: Oh yeah, cool, that-- it makes us sound like we're Georgian spies or something.

Milo: Why don't we just say "Let's re--"
Lola: What about-- what about "Wonderful weather we're having tonight?"
Fela: Oh yeah, cool, that-- it makes us sound like we're Georgian spies or something.

Fela: Oh! I'll just work the word, "cantaloupe," into a phrase. If I say cantaloupe, you know shit's gone wrong.
Lola: Uh, yeah, cool. I like cantaloupe. The food.
Fela: It's the best, right?

Lola: Uh, okay! Anything else?

Fela: Uh, not that I can think of. You guys seem legit, though-- thanks for helpin' me out.

Lola: Yeah, sure.

Fela: We should like... get a drink after this. Right? We should hang out.

Lola: Uh--

Fela: To be entirely candid, it's been a slow period, socially-speaking, for me-- A lot of times I talk into my phone when it's not even on. I like to pretend there's someone on the other line. But there never is.

Milo: Surrreeeeee. Sure.
Lola: Yeah.

Milo: Um, maybe! Like, let's just see where the night takes us.
Lola: And if the night takes us away from you and everything about this then maybe the planets just weren't aligned.

Fela: Okay, well we can just-- we'll circle back on that, later, that's-- it's fine. Well, whenever you're set, let's go get this tourist!

Entering Feisty's[]

[Milo and Lola must go inside the Feisty's.]

Milo: Whoa, okay, so this is what this place looks like during normal hours?

Fela: Yeah, this actually used to be a pretty cool dive bar called the Fowler's Snare. Got made into a Feisty's when the owner tried possessing a puzzle box and got stuck. They do make good cauliflower nuggets, but chain bars give me the fuckin' creeps. I'll meet you at the bar-- we should get a drink, first.

[Fela and Lola walk to the bar, and Milo must follow them.]

Botis: Holy shit! Fellatio?! Is that-- it's you, isn't it-- what the fuck, man!

Fela: Aw, shit-- shit--

Fela: "The Falcon has left the nest!" I repeat, "The falcon has left the nest!"

Fela: "The weather is really wonderful tonight, right? Don't you think? About the weather?

Fela: Uh, I really love cantaloupes, guys. Like hugely. CANTALOUPES are the best!

[Fela begins rushing away as Milo and Lola follow him.]

Milo: You're already pulling the ripcord? We just got here!

Fela: Yeah well I didn't know this disguise was so shoddy!

Fela: Just... you might not be detectives, but you have functioning eyeballs, and that's enough.

Fela: Just... you're detectives. You said so yourself, and why would you lie about something so trivial!

Fela: Find the person that doesn't belong. I'll be, uh, I'll be right outside when you're done.

[Fela begins to exit the bar.]

Football Fan: Hey! Fellatio! Why you dressed up like that, you big fuckin' weirdo!

Fela: *sigh*

[Milo and Lola must get a drink from the bar before doing anything else.]

Feisty Bartender: Welcome to Feisty's! Please notice and appreciate all of our playful doodads and shit on the walls. Now, what are you pups in the mood for?

Milo: Uh, I guess I'll have a Bang Bang.
Feisty Bartender: One Bang Bang comin' up.

Milo: One... Giganticide? Is this a big drink?
Feisty Bartender: You'd think that, wouldn't you, but it's like calling a tall guy, "shorty," or a smart guy, "fuckin' asshole."

Milo: One Frightening Visitor, please.
Feisty Bartender: Here's a little tip-- you can hold the mug in either hand.

Milo: I think I'll try a, uh, a Ling Chi.
Feisty Bartender: Alrighty. Just don't drink this one too fast, it can leave a bruise.

Lola: I'll have the same.

[The bartender pours them both a drink. Across the room, someone begins speaking.]

Charlie: Alright, alright, attention everybody-- Look, I know how finding ourselves in Hell is a bit of a bummer!

Crowd: Booo!

Charlie: I certainly wish Michelle and I could've gotten married before our party bus plummeted over that cliff, but-- Let's not let our untimely deaths ruin what could still be the best bachelor's party of all time!

Crowd: Woo!

[The camera pans back.]

Lola: Alright. Let's get to investigating. Uh-- maybe we should talk to Charlie, first? Let's sniff out the meddler, bet it takes less than ten minutes.

Milo: Hey, after you.

Feisty's Bar Options[]

[Lola can go back and order a different drink from the bartender. Prior to ordering, one of the following variants will play out; the first three will only occur once, while the lone variants will cycle through.]

Bar Demon: No, I used to play-- not professionally, but in college before I tore my, uh, whatever cuff.
Feisty Bartender: No shit?
Bar Demon: Yeah, but now I just possess pigskins, make 'em fly into old lady's faces.
Feisty Bartender: I'll watch out for you on the Wide World of Sports. What can I get you young'uns.

Bar Woman: So what happens if they win?
Bar Man: They go on to the next round.
Bar Man: And what happens if they win that round.
Bar Woman: They'll go on to the Championship.
Bar Woman: And so what happens if they win the Championship--
Bar Man: Look, this only ends in the heat death of the universe so let's just stop before we get there, okay?
Feisty Bartender: See anything you like?

Bar Human: I wanna bet my third-born on the Mississippi Berundas covering the spread.
Feisty Bartender: You can bet the still-living souls of spouses or direct children-- but only if you were married at the time at your death and your children still love you.
Bar Human: You guys should print out fuckin' instructions.
Feisty Bartender: Next!

Feisty Bartender: Drinks are on the house, 'cause they always are.
Feisty Bartender: What can I get for ya.
Feisty Bartender: Want anything?
Feisty Bartender: Want a refill? Or try somethin' new?
Feisty Bartender: Don't look too long, your face will freeze like that.
Feisty Bartender: Want to get somethin'?
Feisty Bartender: Want somethin'?

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: One Bang Bang, please.
Feisty Bartender: One Bang Bang, comin' up.

Milo: I guess I'll have a Bang Bang.
Feisty Bartender: A Bang Bang? Sure thing.

Milo: A Bang Bang, if you, uh, can.
Feisty Bartender: One Bang Bang, just a sec.

Milo: One Bang Bang, I guess.
Feisty Bartender: A Bang Bang, okay.

(Lola variants)

Lola: One Bang Bang, please.
Feisty Bartender: One Bang Bang, comin' up.

Lola: Guess I'll have a Bang Bang.
Feisty Bartender: A Bang Bang? Sure thing.

Lola: A Bang Bang, if you please.
Feisty Bartender: One Bang Bang, just a sec.

Lola: One Bang Bang.
Feisty Bartender: A Bang Bang, okay.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: A Giganticide? Thanks.
Feisty Bartender: One Giganticide, comin' up.

Milo: One, uh, Giganticide.
Feisty Bartender: Another Giganticide, okay.

Milo: A Giganticide... I think.
Feisty Bartender: A Giganticide for the human.

Milo: A Giganticide sounds fine.
Feisty Bartender: One Giganticide, alright.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: A Giganticide, thanks.
Feisty Bartender: One Giganticide, comin' up.

Lola: One Giganticide.
Feisty Bartender: Another Giganticide, okay.

Lola: A Giganticide, I think.
Feisty Bartender: A Giganticide for the human.

Lola: A Giganticide sounds okay.
Feisty Bartender: One Giganticide, alright.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: One Frightening Visitor... for me.
Feisty Bartender: The Frightening Visitor, okay.

Milo: A Frightening Visitor, thanks.
Feisty Bartender: A Frightening Visitor headed your way.

Milo: I'll take a Frightening Visitor.
Feisty Bartender: One Frightening Visitor, comin' for ya.

Milo: Yeah, I'll, uh, I'll have a Frightening Visitor.
Feisty Bartender: Another Frightening Visitor on it's way up.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: One Frightening Visitor.
Feisty Bartender: The Frightening Visitor, okay.

Lola: A Frightening Visitor, if you've got the time.
Feisty Bartender: A Frightening Visitor headed your way.

Lola: I'll have a Frightening Visitor.
Feisty Bartender: One Frightening Visitor, comin' for ya.

Lola: Yeah, I'll take a Frightening Visitor.
Feisty Bartender: Another Frightening Visitor on it's way up.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: I'll take one... Ling Chi.
Feisty Bartender: A Ling Chi, you got it.

Milo: One Ling Chi? Yeah, that. Thanks.
Feisty Bartender: One Ling Chi, comin' up.

Milo: I'll have a Ling Chi, please.
Feisty Bartender: A Ling Chi for the guy. Or girl.

Milo: One, uh, Ling Chi.
Feisty Bartender: One Ling Chi is on its way.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: I'll take a Ling Chi.
Feisty Bartender: A Ling Chi, you got it.

Lola: One Ling Chi, please.
Feisty Bartender: One Ling Chi, comin' up.

Lola: I'll have a Ling Chi, thanks.
Feisty Bartender: A Ling Chi for the guy. Or girl.

Lola: One Ling Chi.
Feisty Bartender: One Ling Chi is on its way.

[Lola can speak to Anthony.]

Lola: Heya.

Anthony: [low growl]

Lola: You're--not, um--pre-med by any chance are you?

Anthony: [low growl]

Lola: Thanks for the stirring conversation.

[Lola can speak to a football fan on the couch.]

Lola: Hey, uh, fellow hooligans. What are we watching?

Football Fan: The Carnal Malefactors are getting their asses handed to them by the Virtuous Pagans.

Lola: Oh. What's the score?

Football Fan: Eh, it's like soccer. The score doesn't matter until it does, but hey-- at least it's boring.

[Lola can attempt to go outside.]

Milo: Uh, wait-- we haven't really talked to that many people, yet. We should probably at least try to figure out whose the, uh, trespassser, right?

Lola: I'll be honest... my legs are tired and I just want to take a nap on any bench outside.

Milo: Come on, don't go to the party dark side... this is the one you wanted to do! Let's just talk to a few more people...

Lola: Fine.

[Lola can look at a man pinned to a dartboard.]

Lola: What's this guy's deal?
Charlie: Oh Barry? Barry can never handle the sauce so we always prank 'em. Honestly, I think the demons took it a little far this time, what with crucifying him onto a dart board, but-- Funny's funny!
[Lola pulls a dart out of the man.]
Barry: Yowcha magoucha far fig newgon!

[Lola pulls another dart out of the man.]
Charlie: Ahhh--party animals deserve party hats!
Lola: Party hats? Is this, like, a clue fountain?
Or a waste of time. This guy has like eighteen dicks and thirteen vaginas drawn on him.

[Lola pulls another dart out of the man.]
Charlie: Yahh--Nice to meet you Greg!

[Lola pulls another dart out of the man.]
Charlie: Ahh--don't drive over the cliff!

[Lola pulls another dart out of the man.]
Charlie: Yahh--I can't believe Charlie's all growns up!
Milo: I think he's had enough.

Conversation with Charlie (Optional)[]

[Lola can speak with Charlie.]

Charlie: Right, so Michelle--that was my fiance's name-- My angel had the keen foresight to have her bachelorette party at home-- She reads in some magazine article that every wedding should have a theme-- And she decides that ours is going to be "Opposites Attract." Since everyone we ever met used to say we were polar opposites of each other. I thought it was a dumb idea, but you know what they say... for better or worse. [laughs a little] She wanted her family to sit on the groom's side and vice-versa. She really got involved with it.

Lola: Hey, mazezl tov on the, uh, almost marriage--
Charlie: Thank you--
Lola: --but have you noticed anyone acting... suspicious at your party this evening?
Charlie: Uh, why?

Lola: Hey, mazezl tov on the, uh, almost marriage--
Charlie: Thank you--
Lola: --but you died for real, right? Like, you're sitting in an urn somewhere or being planted under a tree by a college roommate...
Charlie: Uh, yeah, I'm dead. What are you talking about?

Lola: Your wife-to-be sounds like a real winner, champ. Sorry you'll never get to run it into the endzone.
Charlie: Yeah, well, I mean... you either live to see your soulmate waste away painfully of pancreatic cancer-- or you die first, banging strippers on your rented, eighty-five percent suede party bus.

Lola: Charlie is it? You're gonna spill your bleeding guts on the floor, loverboy, and I mean right now.
Charlie: Huh? What are you talking about?
Lola: Just tell me what you know!
Charlie: Know... about what?

Lola: Aw, that's sweet. "Opposites Attract." It's like something out of a movie about competing brides or something. It is a shame that you didn't get to marry her.
Charlie: Yeah, well, I mean... you either live to see your soulmate waste away painfully of pancreatic cancer-- or you die first, banging strippers on your rented, eighty-five percent suede party bus.

Charlie: Do I... have we met? Cause I don't... think... we did.

Somebody's here alive.
That's classified.
Mind your own business! (Drunk)
(Say nothing.)
Somebody's here alive.

Lola: Someone here is alive--like has a pulse and gets dandruff and everything-- and we are trying to help a little demon security guard with catching them.
Charlie: [chuckling] Shit, really? Feels a little mean trying to catch him, like you're-- betraying all of humankind working with demons on the side of celestial corporal punishment, but, you know, who am I to judge?
Milo: So is anyone acting strange?
Charlie: Uh, I dunno--I noticed Pete's not drinking. And that guy can normally imbibe by the barrel.

(Spoke with Pete before)
(Didn't speak with Pete before)
(Spoke with Pete before)

Lola: Oh yeah, Pete. That guy.

(Didn't speak with Pete before)

Lola: Okay. Pete. Thanks.

That's classified.

Lola: That's, uh, Defcon Alpha level classified, sir-- we are working directly with campus security-- and we need to know right now if you've noticed anything unusual about anyone tonight.
Charlie: Uh, I dunno--I noticed Pete's not drinking. And that guy can normally imbibe by the barrel.

(Spoke with Pete before)
(Didn't speak with Pete before)
(Spoke with Pete before)

Lola: Oh yeah, Pete. That guy.

(Didn't speak with Pete before)

Lola: Okay. Pete. Thanks.

Mind your own business! (Drunk)

Lola: Mind your own damn business, 'kay?! I'm asking the questions, and you're supplying the answers!
Charlie: What?
Milo: Spit it out! Who's acting weird?!
Charlie: Uh, I dunno--I noticed Pete's not drinking. And that guy can normally imbibe by the barrel.

(Spoke with Pete before)
(Didn't speak with Pete before)
(Spoke with Pete before)

Lola: Oh yeah, Pete. That guy.

(Didn't speak with Pete before)

Lola: Okay. Pete. Thanks.

(Say nothing.)

Charlie: Okay, well, I don't really know what you're referring to, so...

Party Demon: So anyways--
Charlie: Anyways, the Bachelor party-- my best man Pete and Barry brought all this fertilizer-- That's the name of a new drug that makes you forget your nieces and nephews-- But after we got on the bus, things got a little foggy after that...
Milo: These names--Barry, Pete... Lola, are you taking, like, notes, here?
Charlie: Notes? What are you talking about? Hello? Strangers I just met?

Somebody's here alive.
He didn't say notes.
Don't listen in! (Sports Fanatic)
Boring! (Liquid Courage)
We like your wedding idea! (Cheeseball)
Somebody's here alive.

Lola: Someone here is alive--like has a pulse and gets dandruff and everything-- and we are trying to help a little demon security guard with catching them.
Charlie: [chuckling] Shit, really? Feels a little mean trying to catch him, like you're-- betraying all of humankind working with demons on the side of celestial corporal punishment, but, you know, who am I to judge?
Milo: So is anyone acting strange?
Charlie: Uh, I dunno--I noticed Pete's not drinking. And that guy can normally imbibe by the barrel.

(Spoke with Pete before)
(Didn't speak with Pete before)
(Spoke with Pete before)

Lola: Oh yeah, Pete. That guy.

(Didn't speak with Pete before)

Lola: Okay. Pete. Thanks.

He didn't say notes.

Lola: He didn't say notes, he said, "Are you taking any goats, here?"
Milo: Yeah, we were, uh, sheep farmers in our previous lives.
Charlie: What would a sheep farmer need with a goat?
Milo: Oh, you think you're so smart, don't you?

Don't listen in! (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: Hey, don't listen in on our playbook, buddy, it's not--wait, how can someone listen in on a playbook?
Charlie: Okay, uh, nevermind.

Boring! (Liquid Courage)

Lola: BORING! Skip to the good part! Like who's really dead down here and who isn't?
Charlie: What?

We like your wedding idea! (Cheeseball)

Lola: Oh, uh, we're thinking of getting married, so... gotta make sure we don't miss any good tips. Were you gonna get a chocolate fountain, or just like a regular ol' water-based thing?
Charlie: Uh, neither.

Bar Demon: [laughing] Hey, Charlie! Come do some shots with me, guy! To you, dodging the biggest fuckin' Florida ass-wide bullet of your life!

Charlie: Malphus! Dark Saint of the Sore Throat That Lasts More Than Two Days, I'll, uh, I'll be right over!

Milo: Well that sucked. We didn't get anything out of that.
Lola: At least we can cross Charlie off the list officially. You'd think the guy would make his life sound more interesting if he was lying.

Milo: Okay, well, we know a certain Pete and a certain Barry were on the bus with him.
Lola: So they might not be the ones we're looking for... unless they are.

Lola: Let's check out some other, uh, perps.

Milo: Potential perps--

Lola: Potential perps.

Conversation with Pete (Optional)[]

[Lola can speak with Pete.]

Lola: How those drinks coming? [chuckling] I'm Lola, this is--

Pete: Yeah I'm Pete, what is it, what do you want? What? What? What is it? What?

Notice anyone suspicious?
Why so jumpy?
You're the cheater, aren't you! (Sports Fanatic)
AH-HA (Liquid Courage)
Relax, buddy. Just confess. (Cheeseball)
(Say nothing.)
Notice anyone suspicious?

Lola: Uh, notice anything like, uh--or anyone suspicious? Like--have you, I dunno, glanced in a mirror recently...?
Pete: Look, just-- just leave me alone, okay? I make small talk about as well as I make balloon animals, so beat it.
[Lola and Milo walk away.]
Milo: Well that's a stonewall if I ever saw one.
Lola: Yeah. He's definitely a person of interest, but he's not giving us much. Let's question some other people.

Why so jumpy?

Lola: Why are you so jumpy? Huh? You know you're already dead, right?
Pete: Look, just-- just leave me alone, okay? I make small talk about as well as I make balloon animals, so beat it.
[Lola and Milo walk away.]
Milo: Well that's a stonewall if I ever saw one.
Lola: Yeah. He's definitely a person of interest, but he's not giving us much. Let's question some other people.

You're the cheater, aren't you! (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: Oh, you're the goddamn cheater, aren't you?! I can--I can smell 'em from their jockies a mile away!
Pete: A cheater?! What, on my--my taxes? Sure. On alimony? Maybe. On my current wife? Of course! On my mistress? Sometimes! My second mistress? Only every third Wednesday.

AH-HA (Liquid Courage)

Lola: AH-HA! It's you isn't it?
Pete: How'd you put it together?
Milo: "How'd we put it together?!" I can't believe you're just admitting to this right now! I thought this strategy only worked in cartoons!

Relax, buddy. Just confess. (Cheeseball)

Lola: Relax, buddy-- it's a party, take a load off. Let go of some of that stress. Drink some tea, get a massage, turn yourself in-- if you, uh, have anything to turn yourself in for...

(Say nothing.)

[Lola and Milo walk away.]
Milo: Well that's a stonewall if I ever saw one.
Lola: Yeah. He's definitely a person of interest, but he's not giving us much. Let's question some other people.

Pete: Cut the shit.

(Spoke with Greg and Eliza)
(Spoke with Charlie)
(Spoke with Greg and Eliza)

Pete: I saw you talking to that-- to that woman, and-- and that guy, Greg?
Milo: Greg?
Pete: Greg! Askin' him things, stirrin' up trouble! The point is you're pokin' your nose where it don't need to be poked! That what gets you off? Watching people squirm?!

(Spoke with Charlie)

Pete: I know what you're up to-- Asking questions, stirring up trouble... I saw you talking to Charlie, alright? Grilling him? The point is you're pokin' your nose where it don't need to be poked! That what gets you off? Watching people squirm?!

So what if we are?
What do you mean by that?
You cheated to get here, didn't you?! (Sports Fanatic)
AH-HA (Liquid Courage)
Relax, just turn yourself in. (Cheeseball)
So what if we are?

Lola: Hey, so what if we are, huh? We're not here to celebrate Charlie's bus crash, we're here to solve a-- a case of mistaken identity.

What do you mean by that?

Lola: Uh, what do you, uh, precisely mean by that?

You cheated to get here, didn't you?! (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: Oh, you're the goddamn cheater, aren't you?! I can--I can smell 'em from their jockies a mile away!
Pete: A cheater?! What, on my--my taxes? Sure. On alimony? Maybe. On my current wife? Of course! On my mistress? Sometimes! My second mistress? Only every third Wednesday.

AH-HA (Liquid Courage)

Lola: AH-HA! It's you isn't it?
Pete: How'd you put it together?
Milo: "How'd we put it together?!" I can't believe you're just admitting to this right now! I thought this strategy only worked in cartoons!

Relax, just turn yourself in. (Cheeseball)

Lola: Relax, buddy-- it's a party, take a load off. Let go of some of that stress. Drink some tea, get a massage, turn yourself in-- if you, uh, have anything to turn yourself in for...

(Chose one of the drunken options or spoke with Charlie/Greg & Eliza first)

Pete: I'm sorry. That mall Easter Bunny told me I shouldn't lash out at people... The truth is I'm not even supposed to be here, and, uh, if it wasn't for Charlie, you know, I wouldn't--I wouldn't be.
Milo: Out with it! How'd you do it, huh? Self-asphyxiation? Those medical, uh, pad things?
Pete: I tried to drive the party bus with my erect penis.
Milo: Um... I'm lost.

Huh?
What?
That's awesome! (Sports Fanatic)
AH-HA (Liquid Courage)
And... uh, how would that work? (Cheeseball)
Huh?

Lola: Huh? You sort of jumped the guard rail, here.

What?

Lola: What? I--I'm failing to see the connection.

That's awesome! (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: That's awesome! That works? You just--you do that and then you end up here? You're a realw inner, man, lemme tell you, that is hilarious.

AH-HA (Liquid Courage)

Lola: AH-HA! So you do admit to putting your dick on... the... wait, what did you just say?

And... uh, how would that work? (Cheeseball)

Lola: And that works... uh, how?

Pete: I was just trying to make them laugh! But my cock isn't as good as a steering tool as I was led to believe... Thank God Charlie doesn't remember I'm the one that crashed the bus.
Milo: Due to your maypole--
Pete: Due to my pork sword, yes--
Milo: Okay but wait, hold the phone... you're not the guy who snuck into Hell, though? You really died in the wreck?
Pete: Listen, can you work with me on this? Can we--let's make a deal, alright? If you're looking for somebody, I think I know who it is... But you can't tell anyone about my skin flute accidentally killing my best friend and almost everyone he likes. Sound fair?

You're on.
No deal.
(Say nothing.)
You're on.

Lola: You're on, Pete. Now what can you tell us?
Pete: Okay, that Greg kid would be the first person I'd look into. But you didn't hear that from me.

No deal.

Lola: No, no, no-- I need all my options open. I don't wanna get cornered in a moral conundrum later.
Milo: No deal, Pete. If that's even your real name.
Pete: Whatever. Just... keep my trouser monkey under your hat, okay?
Milo: Phrasing.

(Say nothing.)

Pete: Whatever. Fine, forget it.

Conversation with Greg and Eliza[]

[Milo and Lola must speak with Greg, Eliza, and Rakshasas at their table.]

Rakshasas: So, Greg, tell me again-- how, exactly, did you become the unquestioned Grand Emperor of Earth?

Greg: Oh, such a long story. My good friends, Han, Indiana, and, uh, Richard Kimble were, like, arrested-- by, uh, the current, well, previous Grand Emperor, Dick Deckard. Thankfully, a law had been passed to prevent gerrymandering... and I won the election in a landslide, regardless. Naturally, I banished the fallen king, to, uh, Dinotopia. Whew, right?

Lola: Uh, those are just movies Harrison Ford starred in.
Greg: Yeah, everyone always says I was handsomer, but there's-- there's definitely a resemblance. But all those movies and novels and children's toy lines, yeah, based on my life story.

Lola: Hey, uh, do you-- or has anyone seen or noticed anyone acting suspicious?
Greg: Uh, suspicious? [chuckling] Other than you two asking weird questions, no, nobody I can think of. Do you even know the Bachelor? Charlie?

Lola: Uh, you know Pete? That guy over there? With the dick?
Greg: Um, yes--?
Lola: He said you weren't invited to this party, bro. So you wanna tell us what's going on or do I have to call campus security--
Greg: Yeah, you're right-- I don't know anyone here from Adam. Who cares. It's an open bar. There's no doorman, no curfew. I can sit here and drink for as long as I want.

Lola: Wow, this-- this routine takes some guys, I'm actually impressed. It's like watching someone do backflips near broken glass.
Rakshasas: Mm? What are you talking about?
Greg: Uh, they're just nervous, probably. It's not every day people get to meet an Emperor, y'know.

Lola: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Milo: BAH-HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Rakshasas: Why are they laughing?
Greg: Nerves... probably. It's not every day people get to meet an Emperor, y'know.

Lola: Oh, the Grand Emperor of Earth! Your majesty, this is an honor.
Lola: Uh, yeah, thanks, my, uh, my disciples! Greetings!

Rakshasas: You know, the drinks here actually aren't very good.
Greg: We're in a Feisty's, so no-- they're not gonna be very good.

How'd you die, by the way?
Do you?!
Don't move the goalposts. (Sports Fanatic)
You're lying to this demon. (Liquid Courage)
Of course we know him! (Cheeseball)
How'd you die, by the way?

Lola: How'd, uh, you die... if you don't mind me asking?
Greg: I had a musculoskeletal disease, and, uh, time finally expired at thirty three.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

Do you?!

Lola: Um, do you know the bachelor, Chucky?
Milo: Charlie.
Lola: Charlie? Cause it looks like you're more interested in greasing the dry hump wheels with this demon instead of partying with your 'friends'.
Greg: Uh, I just met the guy tonight. I'm not here for his thing, I'm here for my thing.
Milo: What's your thing.
Greg: You're lookin' at it.

Don't move the goalposts. (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: Hey, don't move the goalposts, Greg. There's too many men on the field and we're trying to figure out which one's getting put in the penalty box.
Greg: Well it ain't me, alright? I died fair and square from a musculoskeletal disease at age thirty three.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

You're lying to this demon. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: You're fucking lying to this demon, Greg-- you're just rattling off movie characters Harrison Ford played!
Greg: Yeah, everyone always says I was handsomer, but there's-- there's definitely a resemblance. But all those movies and novels and children's toy lines, yeah, based on my life story.

Of course we know him! (Cheeseball)

Lola: Uh, of course we know him. We played softball on his intergender... squadron.
Greg: Oh, did you, now? Must have been some league.

Rakshasas: And so as the, uh, Grand Sovereign of Terra Firma, your responsibilities are... what, exactly?
Greg: Oh, this and that. Mostly defending all of humankind from various, uh, plagues. ...by directing... disease, uh, research.

Why's the "Emperor of Earth" in Hell?
How'd the "Emperor" die so young?
Just drop the act! We know it's you! (Drunk)
Why's the "Emperor of Earth" in Hell?

Lola: Uh huh, so... why would the "Emperor of Earth" end up in Hell? Surely, the people considered you a wise and benevolent ruler...
Greg: Oh, they did, definitely, they'd throw flowers at my feet-- even on Valentine's Day when flowers are expensive, but, uh... a musculoskeletal disease turned me bitter and... selfish, I guess. I lost the fight with it at thirty three.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

How'd the "Emperor" die so young?

Lola: Uh huh, so... how'd the "Great Emperor of Earth" die so young? Surely someone of such stature would have the resources to keep kickin' until at least, uh, like forty eight.
Greg: You'd think that, wouldn't you. But unfortunately I had a, uh, musculoskeletal disease since birth. I lost the fight with it at thirty three.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

Just drop the act! We know it's you! (Drunk)

Lola: Okay, just drop the act, pal, we know it's you.
Greg: You know I'm who?
Lola: You're the one that doesn't belong here! Not really.
Greg: If you mean that it's unfair that a musculoskeletal disease since birth condemned me to die at a very young age-- then yes, thank you, I agree, I don't belong here.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

You're lying to this demon.
How'd you die, then?
There's unspoken rules, though. (Sports Fanatic)
Why party with them? (Liquid Courage)/Why come to this bar? (Cheeseball)
You're lying to this demon.

Lola: You're fucking lying to this demon, Greg-- you're just rattling off movie characters Harrison Ford played!
Greg: Yeah, everyone always says I was handsomer, but there's-- there's definitely a resemblance. But all those movies and novels and children's toy lines, yeah, based on my life story.

How'd you die, then?

Lola: Okay, how'd-- how'd you die, then, smart guy? Jet-skiing with supermodels during a--a rescue mission for puppies?
Greg: No, I had a musculoskeletal disease, okay? Is that-- are you satisfied with that? I had it since birth, and time finally expired at thirty three.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

There's unspoken rules, though. (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: This is like baseball, though, there's unspoken rules-- you don't flip the bat off a homerun-- you don't blame the dog when you fart, and you don't just hang out in a stranger's bachelor's party!
Greg: All those things are fun! Do you even know what a bar is for?

Why party with them? (Liquid Courage)/Why come to this bar? (Cheeseball)

Lola: Okay, but why come to this bar, then? Why drink with people you don't know unless you're using 'em like the human equivalent of Anne Frank's attic?
Greg: Maybe because I like to meet people? Do you even know what a bar is for?

Eliza: Excuse me, waitress, could I have another-- another martini?

Milo: I'm not a waitress. I'm also not a woman, I don't know if you can... see that.

Eliza: Oh... pardon me, ma'am. I haven't been this twatted since the last work party at the saw mill. Sorry, I'm Eliza. Are you two, uh, part of the groom-to-be's stag show? I'm not sure who's party-part of the party and who's... Who's just buying booze, you know?

Lola: Uh, seen anyone a little too happy to be here? SOmeone maybe looks like they're sightseeing... asking for directions...
Eliza: That's a pisser. I was just-- I was just askin' for directions, wasn't I? You wouldn't be, uh, lookin' for me, would you?

Lola: No, we're, uh, auditing, but... just cause you brought it up and now I don't have to... Where are you from?
Rakshasas: Yeah, actually, where are you from? I haven't seen you around.
Eliza: A little town North of Betton Strange called, uh, Salopia. Though you'd know it better as Shrewsbury.

Lola: You cheated to get here, didn't ya! Didn't ya! Take it, Milo.
Milo: Didn't ya!
Lola: You stole bases, you paid off the refs, you-- just tell us how you did it!
Eliza: I-- maybe I have you confused for-- or you have me confused for somebody, but... I don't know what you're speakin' on.
Greg: Yeah, this is... wait, what's your name again, honey?
Eliza: Eleesha. I mean Eliza. It's funny the things you-- you forget when... you know...

Lola: You snuck under the fence, didn't ya? Didn't ya! Take it, Milo.
Milo: Didn't ya!
Lola: What, did you sacrifice a possum, carve your birthday backwards into your hands-- how'd you do it?
Eliza: I-- maybe I have you confused for-- or you have me confused for somebody, but... I don't know what you're speakin' on.
Greg: Yeah, this is... wait, what's your name again, honey?
Eliza: Eleesha. I mean Eliza. It's funny the things you-- you forget when... you know...

Lola: Yeah, definitely, Charlie and us, we go way back. Used to, you know, go horse-whipping and, uh, hobo-marking... whatever Ivy league guys do in their spare time.
Eliza: Oh, that's neat. Yeah, I don't really know anybody, uh, here. I'm still new, but-- but don't-- don't tell anybody.

Greg: Man, it's gotten really loud over here, Rakshasas, do you wanna maybe go somewhere a little more--

Rakshasas: I'm good. It was nice meeting you.

[Rakshasas teleports away.]

Greg: God dammit. Well... that's my cue, losers. See you on the flip side.

Eliza: Yeah, it's getting-- it's getting a little... late? Does it get late, here? I think I should probably-- I should be heading out, too.

[Greg and Eliza get up and begin to walk away.]

Milo: Crap, Lola... both of them... they smell like we're gonna have an electrical fire.

Lola: What does that mean--

Milo: Ultra fishy.

Lola: I told you to stop with those fucking obscure smell jokes, I'm not kidding you.

Milo: Seriously, though, Greg said he died of a disease but Pete still pointed him out to us. Double but Eliza is acting really weird, too. And nobody seems to know who she is.

Milo: Seriously, though, Pete is kinda strange-acting, but Greg was just lying to that demon, just now. But Eliza is acting really weird, too. And nobody seems to know who she is.

Milo: Seriously, though, we haven't talked to that many people, yet, but Greg was just lying to that demon. Double but Eliza is acting really weird, too. And nobody seems to know who she is.

Lola: God, this is all... reminding me of something...

Wormhorn[]

[The bar goes dark, and each of the televisions turns to Wormhorn's image.]

Wormhorn: Ding ding ding, distant memory bell-- what could be ringing?

[Wormhorn appears at the center of the bar.]

Wormhorn: Good question, Mary! Maybe it's when Lola was Hall Monitor, nervous about talking to the taller boys. Or maybe it's when she told on Cynthia Lackey when Cynthia cheated on her Algebra test! There's a lot of possibilities here! It's hard to pick just one!

Lola: Ugh, can one of you demons who can see this sideshow just kick her out, please. She's not gonna pay for any curly fries, so.
Wormhorn: Hey, you don't know that! I skipped breakfast, today. Anyways, you remembered something-- that's why I'm here--

Lola: Ugh, what is it now, Wormhorn, huh? What, are you gonna say I follow the rules too much? Put some doubts in my mind over who's guilty?
Wormhorn: Hey, it wasn't my idea to show up in the first place, pancakes! You're the one that remembered something-- wanna know what it was?

Lola: Technical foul-- double tech, automatic ejection, drop off your jersey and hit the showers, goodbye.
Wormhorn: Hey, it wasn't my idea to show up in the first place, pancakes! You're the one that remembered something-- wanna know what it was?

Lola: Hey, will you just shut up, uh, fart... face, ugh, why did I choose this drink, Jesus.
Wormhorn: Hey, it wasn't my idea to show up in the first place, pancakes! You're the one that remembered something-- wanna know what it was?

Lola: Hey Wormhorn, how's tricks. Nice to see you. Glad to see you're putting maximum effort into your, uh, your work.
Wormhorn: Well I don't get up in the morning just cause your melatonin levels have decreased! But I showed up just now for a memory you're jostling-- wanna know what it was?

Wormhorn: But unfortunately, we have to-- must like a bird of prey must pick her one child to survive.

Wormhorn: You were in the tenth grade, washing your jeans-- your dog had just been run over by your neighbor-- and you were thinking that the world was shit and people were dungbatter. And now you're looking around this bar for someone who's probably dungbatter, too-- I mean it must take a certain kind of cretin to sneak into Hell, right? And now you're standing there, wondering if you're any better.

Lola: Actually I was just wondering if I still had those jeans.

Wormhorn: You do still have those jeans-- They're in your closet-- on top of the wish chest you prayed on to shrink two inches.

Lola: Fuck you, okay-- This isn't funny, anymore.

Milo: Block her out, Lola, c'mon, she's a-- she's an undigested piece of cheese, right? A momentary mental disorder.

Milo: Get the shit out of here, Wormhorn, we're all filled up with doubts as it is, okay?

Wormhorn: Look, whatever, just make sure you pick the right gal, Local H. I couldn't bear to watch Father Christmas add more time to your sentence for wrongful prosecution.

[Wormhorn teleports away.]

Following a Suspect[]

Lola: Don't say anything, I'm fine. I really think we should go after Greg, try to get a confession.

Milo: I... don't know. Eliza seemed... weirder, to me. We could split up?

Lola: We're not splitting up, we're in a bar, in Hell. Just... pick one. You want Eliza, I think Greg... wanna talk more to Greg?

Greg. (Play as Lola)
(Say nothing.)
Greg. (Play as Lola)

Lola: Greg made up that whole bullshit story, I really think we shouldn't let him get away.
Eliza: Bye everybody! Nice to-- nice to meet you.
Milo: Alright, well... hope your instincts are sharp. Take the reigns.

(Say nothing.)

Eliza: Bye everybody! Nice to-- nice to meet you.
Milo: Well, we ran outta time on my pick. Let's just go after Greg, I'm-- I'll follow you.

[Lola can choose to leave.]
Milo: Uh, you wanna leave? We didn't even question Greg more.

Let's just go.
Okay, you win.
Let's just go.

Lola: Let's just go, seriously. Plenty of people have been swung from trees for less evidence than we have.
Milo: Yeah, I don't know if that's the uh, an analytical method we really want to follow, but... If you really wanna report to Fela based on what we know, okay.
[Milo and Lola leave. Skip to "Fela: Look, I'm at the point of the evening where (...)"]

Okay, you win.

Lola: Okay, you win, we'll stay and finish the investigation properly.
Milo: I just don't want go put somebody in a weird barbed wire tornado or something if they don't deserve it.

[Lola can talk to Greg.]
Lola: Hey, uh, Greg?
Greg: Uh huh? What is it? Do I have toilet paper on my shoes again?

Let's keep hanging out!
Tell me the truth...
Wanna watch the game on TV? (Sports Fanatic)
What's your story.(Liquid Courage)/I wanna know more about you. (Cheeseball)
(Say nothing.)
Let's keep hanging out!

Lola: Hey, uh, dude, are you leaving already? We should totally, like, keep doing... things.

Tell me the truth...

Lola: Level with me, Greg. Are you really, like, literally dead? As a doornail?
Greg: Uh, yeah. I had a musculoskeletal disease. Had it since birth, and time finally expired at thirty three.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

Wanna watch the game on TV? (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: Wanna watch the, uh, the-- actually what the Hell are they playing on TV?
Greg: Oh, it's uh like American football but, uh, Hell's version, so... --sorry-- it's just a little better for everyone involved.

What's your story.(Liquid Courage)/I wanna know more about you. (Cheeseball)

Lola: Uh, Greg, wait up! Let's get to know each other, I wanna-- I wanna know more about you. Like, for instance, why and how are you here right now.
Greg: Uh, yeah. I had a musculoskeletal disease. Had it since birth, and time finally expired at thirty three.
Milo: Oh. Uh, sorry.
Greg: Don't be. My sister always said, 'You don't deserve anything in life but the ability to complain.'

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Uh, how's it going? Let's hang out--the--the night is still young, right?

Greg: Look, I'm at the point of the evening where I'm either getting on the expressway to drunken idiocy land-- or I'm taking the slow boat to my apartment filled with human-sized cockroaches that watch bad sitcoms in the common area all night. So, if... I dunno-- you wanna play, like, a drinking game or something--
Milo: Yes! Let's-- let's do that.
Greg: Yeah? Wanna do it? You versus me.

Um, yeah, sure.
How 'bout a rain check.
I'm a championship drinker! (Sports Fanatic)
I'm just drunk enough. (Liquid Courage)
Fuck yes. (Cheeseball)
(Say nothing.)
Um, yeah, sure.

Lola: Um, yeah, sure. I mean, I might throw up on you but--
Greg: Yeah, when you talk it's hard to put liquids down your mouth, so just meet me at the table.

How 'bout a rain check.

Lola: Um, actually, how about a--
Greg: Yeah, when you talk it's hard to put liquids down your mouth, so just meet me at the table.

I'm a championship drinker! (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: Hey, boy, I'm a championship-level drinker, I've drunk enough dranks to--
Greg: Yeah, when you talk it's hard to put liquids down your mouth, so just meet me at the table.

I'm just drunk enough. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Actually, you know what? I am just drunk enough for--
Greg: Yeah, when you talk it's hard to put liquids down your mouth, so just meet me at the table.

Fuck yes. (Cheeseball)

Lola: Fuck and yes, boy, it is so--
Greg: Yeah, when you talk it's hard to put liquids down your mouth, so just meet me at the table.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: She's thinking 'yes,' I can see it, her mouth just hasn't reacted to her brain signals, yet.
Greg: Cool! Yeah, just meet me at the table.

Milo: Get him nice and liquored up and he'll spill his guts. Hopefully not literally.
Lola: You better really hope not literally cause if I get entrails on my favorite overalls I'm taking it out on your ass.
[Greg heads over to a table. Lola must follow him and sit down.]
Greg: Alright, you know how to play, right? Drink 'em, rack 'em, stack 'em. Highest-fastest "ladder to God" wins. I got outdrank by a blacksmith who cheated his knights once-- but other than that I'm undefeated. Well, on account of my being an alcoholic.

Stop stalling.
Yeah, got it.
Game on. (Sports Fanatic)
I'm already drunk, so whatever. (Liquid Courage)
Go easy on me, hahaha! (Cheeseball)
Stop stalling.

Lola: Yeah, this isn't Calculus. Let's just do it.

Yeah, got it.

Lola: Cool cool, yeah. Less stalling, more drinking. I got stuff to do tonight.

Game on. (Sports Fanatic)

Lola: Game on, bro. First quarter, hit the buzzer, start the clock, c'mon.

I'm already drunk, so whatever. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Yeah, I'm already six sheets to the fucking wind, guy. Let's just do this.

Go easy on me, hahaha! (Cheeseball)

Lola: Hey, go easy on me. I'm still pretty new at the whole being dead thing.

Greg: Okay, let's do it! Got your glass? To bad decisions.
Milo: To bad decisions.

To bad decisions.
To getting you drunk.
To bad decisions.

Lola: To bad decisions.

To getting you drunk.

Lola: To getting you drunk.

[Greg and Lola down and toss aside their drinks.]
Greg: Ready? Set? Get wrecked!

(Lola is winning)
(Lola is losing)
(Greg is almost done)
(Lola is almost done)
(Lola's tower falls over)
(Lola is winning)

Milo: Yeah, c'mon, Lola-- you're winning!
Milo: Man, why are you so good at this?
Milo: Alright, Lola, pace yourself, now, Jesus.
Milo: I'm gonna be holding your hair back at some point tonight, aren't I.
Milo: Yeah, Lola! You're ahead!

(Lola is losing)

Milo: C'mon, Lola, you're falling behind!
Milo: Pick up the pace, Lola!
Milo: I'm going to be honest-- this is not a good look.
Milo: Let's go, Lola, let's go, hurry it up!

(Greg is almost done)

Milo: He's almost at the end, Lola, c'mon!
Milo: Hurry up! You're almost out of time!
Milo: Lola, he's nearly won, let's go!

(Lola is almost done)

Milo: Yeah, Lola, you're almost done!
Milo: Awesome, you're doing it!
Milo: Keep going, keep going, almost there.

(Lola's tower falls over)

Milo: Shit! Just-- quick, just start again.
Milo: Oh no! Goddamnit, we have to start over!
Milo: Ugh, that's-- that's not supposed to happen, right?

(Lola won)
(Lola lost)
(Lola won)

Greg: Wooo, good--good game, man, good-- you're good at that.

(Lola lost)

[Try again]
(Give up or say nothing)
(Lola loses)

Lola: Want to just try again now, or maybe come back later... I don't--
Milo: Let's just do it again, c'mon!
Greg: Okay, let's do it!
[Loop back to "Greg and Lola down and toss (...)"]

(Give up)

Greg: Oh, man, that was-- that was fun. Sorry you-- you lost, but, you know... When you come at the king, you best not, uh, miss, or whatever.

Greg: God, I miss that-- that-- that feeling of, uh, not giving a shit, you know, of-- of how much I'm-- ...you can't do it, as hard, when you're-- when I'm alive, cause of the-- the medication.
Milo: What medication?
Greg: "Musculoskeletal--" yeah, yeah, that's how Dr. Slater, uh-- that's how she said it. Pronounced every syllable. But whatever, man, whatever-- we've all got a fucking hourglass over our heads, y'know-- We're all running on God's time, God's plan. Hey, I'm-- I'm on the clock here, too. Ehh, gonna run out, soon. [chuckles]

It's you, isn't it.
How'd you even do it?
(Say nothing.)
It's you, isn't it.

(Lola lost the contest)
(Lola won the contest)
(Lola lost the contest)

Lola: It's you, isn't it. You're the guy that snuck in, right?

(Lola won the contest)

Lola: It's you, isn't it. You're not even supposed to be here you silly little rabbit.

How'd you even do it?

Lola: How'd you even do it, how'd you beat the system? A sacrifice, a-- a coma? What?

(Say nothing.)

Milo: So then you'd have no issue about us telling security about your malfeasance--

Greg: I got a-- I gotta confession to make. I'm not thirty three. I'm twenty nine. But I know I'm, like, dead at thirty three. Like Christ. And the fat guy from Blues Brothers. That's what Dr. Slater said. And-- and I know I'm goin' to Hell, you know, I-- you don't go to the other fuckin' place by being a pain in the ass like I've been. I never call my Mom back, and-- and I don't even talk to my sisters. They don't deserve that, right? But I-- I like to test the waters by ODing on my prescriptions every once in a while. Just to see what the long haul here will-- will be like. They always-- they always bring me back. It's not as hard as it looks. You just gotta-- gotta measure it out.

What if you mess up?
Yeesh. That's pretty sad.
What if you mess up?

Lola: But what if-- but what if you mess up, and get the doses wrong, and-- and you don't come back?
Greg: You can't 'mess up' dyin', little girl. You can only mess up, uh, mess up livin'. And, like... your bathroom if you miss your toilet.

Yeesh. That's pretty sad.

(Lola lost the contest)
(Lola won the contest)
(Lola lost the contest)

Lola: Man, I'm-- I'm sorry, that sucks.

(Lola won the contest)

Lola: Yeesh, Jesus, motherfucker, that's pretty-- that's sad. Y'know, you're bumming me out.

Greg: I know they're looking for me, I've--I've done too much shit, here. You guys are cool, right, you're not-- you're not gonna turn me in, are you? I mean, that wouldn't be-- that wouldn't be kosher. Not that-- not that I know if I'm using that word, right...

Just don't come back.
We're turning you in.
(Say nothing.)
Just don't come back.

(Lola lost the contest)
(Lola won the contest)
(Lola lost the contest)

Lola: Leave, Greg. Get your life together, what-- what remains of it, at least. Stay above ground. You'll get enough hours down here when it's time for it.
Greg: Go walk off a pier, man-- if I wanted a-- a lecture I'd still go to church-- hear all about how I'm disappointing our Saviour. Yeah, no thanks.
Milo: Greg--
Greg: I'm leaving, okay? I-- I won't be doing this, again, you can-- you can write that shit down and mail it to me, okay?

(Lola won the contest)

Lola: You need-- you need to leave now, just go-- shhh and go. Run away. Right now, go.
Greg: Yeah... I guess I-- I guess I should be gettin' back.

Greg: The paramedics are probably kickin' down my door as we-- as we speak. It's nice to have-- to have friends. Even if they're being paid to save me.

We're turning you in.

Lola: Sorry, Greg, but we're turning you in. You've broken some serious laws of physics and religion and quantum matter to be here-- and I have no qualms about trading you for a ticket back home.
Greg: Isn't-- wouldn't that be breaking laws of whatever, too?
Milo: Don't change the subject!
Greg: [laughs] Whatever. Let's see what campus security is gonna do. See you guys-- well, see you guys never. Cause, you know... whatever.

(Say nothing.)

Greg: [laughs] Whatever. Let's see what campus security is gonna do. See you guys-- well, see you guys never. Cause, you know...

Milo: Eliza really made my arm hair stand on end... let's let Greg go and question her some more.
Greg: Uh, see ya later, guys, good to-- good to meet you.
Lola: Okay, well, there goes the "Emperor," so... let's hope Eliza or whoever here is our person of interest.
[Lola can choose to leave.]
Milo: Uh, you wanna leave? I didn't even get to question Eliza anymore.

Let's just go.
Okay, you win.
Let's just go.

Lola: Let's just go, seriously. Plenty of people have been swung from trees for less evidence than we have.
Milo: Yeah, I don't know if that's the uh, an analytical method we really want to follow, but... If you really wanna report to Fela based on what we know, okay.
[Milo and Lola leave. Skip to "Fela: Look, I'm at the point of the evening where (...)"]

Okay, you win.

Lola: Okay, you win, we'll stay and finish the investigation properly.
Milo: I just don't want go put somebody in a weird barbed wire tornado or something if they don't deserve it.

[Milo must talk to Eliza, who is standing near the bar.]
Milo: Hey, uh, Eliza?
Eliza: Oh, uh, yes? Forget something?

Tell me the truth...
Let's keep hanging out!
Wanna watch the game on TV? (Sports Fanatic)
What's your story. (Liquid Courage)/I wanna know more about you. (Cheeseball)
Tell me the truth...

Milo: Tell me the truth, Eliza... are you really, uh, are you actually dead? Like dead-dead?
Eliza: I don't know how I'd be here if I wasn't! This ain't-- [burps]--sorry-- the Metrocentre, love.

Let's keep hanging out!

Milo: We should, like, totally, uh, hang out more. Want another round?
Eliza: Uh, I don't know. I got to be-- [burps] up early to be whipped by people dressed like my Dad. So.

Wanna watch the game on TV? (Sports Fanatic)

Milo: Wanna watch the, uh, the-- actually what the Hell are they playing on TV?
Eliza: Oh, it's uh like American football but, uh, Hell's version, so... --sorry-- it's just a little better for everyone involved.

What's your story. (Liquid Courage)/I wanna know more about you. (Cheeseball)

Milo: Uh, why leave? Let's get to know each other, I wanna-- I wanna know more about you. You seem, um, interesting!
Eliza: I guess I would be in this lot. Not that-- I mean, Charlie seems entertainin' enough-- [burps] oh wow, what's that-- sorry-- for someone who probably had a gerbil growing up.

Lola: Eliza, can you just answer one question for us? Just... why are you in Hell?
Eliza: [singing] I recall my dear old brother under the Autumn light, when he was four and I was more, I pierced him with a knife.
Lola: Yeah, and you're fucking insane. You killed your brother?
Milo: Lola--
Eliza: No, y-your friend's pretty accurate, there. I was born missin' a certain capacity of reason. Some ducklings wouldn't think it fair, me being here-- what with my mental deformity. But I couldn't dampen it, it was like trying to not go to the bathroom. Not fall in love. So who's really to blame if we're all paper dolls cut by God's hand... If He slipped a little... with me. The sun rose the next morning like nothing happened. And in a way, nothing did.

I'm sorry for you.
You're still evil. C'mon.
Uh, how about them Yankees? (Sports Fanatic)
Ugh. You psychotic loser. (Liquid Courage)
At least you know who you are! (Cheeseball)
(Say nothing.)
I'm sorry for you.

Milo: I'm sorry, Eliza. Sorry you didn't find the help you needed before... you know.
Eliza}: I'm not. I'm where I belong. We all are.

You're still evil. C'mon.

Milo: You-- you can't blame God, Eliza, for your actions. Just like I couldn't blame my computer for acting weird when my parents found naked drawings of cartoon characters on my hard drive!
Lola: When did that happen?
Milo: No, I'm making it-- it's made-up--a totally made-up example.

Uh, how about them Yankees? (Sports Fanatic)

Milo: Uh, well... you catch Tanaka against the Red Sox?
Lola: Milo!
Milo: Sorry.

Ugh. You psychotic loser. (Liquid Courage)

Milo: Ugh, Eliza. I'm sorry I ever considered you a person I would potentially fantasize about defending from a biker gang of ninjas.

At least you know who you are! (Cheeseball)

Milo: Well... at least you know who you are!
Lola: Milo!
Milo: Sorry.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: That is such bullshit, Eliza. You don't blame God for your level of batshit. You blame Him when you drop your phone and it cracks on your way to buying a case for it!
Eliza: I don't blame Him for anything. I'm where I belong. We all are.

Eliza: So, uh, Shiloh?
Lola: Milo.
Eliza: Can I, uh, get your number?
Lola: Uh... he's, um...

Here it is!
Fuck no.
(Say nothing.)
Here it is!

Milo: Yeah, uh, new phone, but I think it's 666-555, uh, a three's in there somewhere--
Eliza: I'l just look you up in the directory.

Fuck no.

Milo: Don't take this the wrong way... but fuck no.
Eliza: Alright. That makes sense.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Actually, he's taken, honey. Not by me, I can't even pretend, but by someone... in Canada.
Eliza: Yeah, yeah, I-I should have known. All the good ones are taken by Canadians, aren't they?

Eliza: Anyways, it's been a gas. I'm sure we'll bump into each other again. Forever's a long time...
[Eliza walks off.]
Lola: Well that's just great, Milo, it's obviously not that crazy bitch--

(Gave Eliza your number)
(Didn't)
(Gave Eliza your number)

Lola: Who has your number, now. What do you think you're gonna do with that? Huh? The plan is to leave, not date.
Milo: And if the plan fails?
Lola: Oh, you're gonna dry hump a fuckin'-- whatever. The point is she's not our guy.

(Didn't)

Lola: She's just a pathetic brother-murderer who smells like cheap soap.

Milo: Well, I'm sorry, alright. Maybe it-- maybe it was Greg, who knows.
Lola: And I feel like we've kinda used all the water from the dishrag in here.
Milo: Maybe not.
Lola: I dunno. We can walk around a bit, but I think we should reconnect with Fela-- just let him know what happened.

Choosing a Suspect[]

[Lola and Milo must go outside, where Fela is on the phone.]

Fela: No no, I'm-- I got two humans workin' on it.

Fela: They're detectives, okay-- what else do you want me to do?

Fela: It's the best I could come up with!

Fela: They know me in there! Don't-- don't worry about it, I'll-- we'll catch the guy. The people I just told you about! They're my friends! Not like-- no, not like the last guy who ended up just stealing my pants. I'll-- yeah, fine, fuck it, I'll hold.^[6]

[Lola and Milo must talk to Fela.]

Fela: Hey! How's it going? Any luck catchin' that creep? I'm gonna be off soon. About to just head out. Cause believe me, I am ready for my shift to be over. You know?

Lola: Yeah, he's a guy named Greg, so... you know how that goes.
Fela: "Greg?"

Lola: It's some batshit crazy chick named Eliza. Cause... of course she is.
Milo: Lola...
Fela: "Eliza?"

Lola: It's some giant weirdo named Peter. He snuck in and now he's, you know, here. Just like you said.
Milo: Lola...
Fela: "Peter?"

(Pursued Greg)
(Pursued Eliza)
(Pursued Greg)

Milo: Um, I don't know why Lola's tongue tied right now, but it's a guy named Greg? He's still inside. Desperately trawling for demon strange.
Fela: "Greg?"

(Pursued Eliza)

Milo: Uh, yeah, we totally got the person! It's a--a person named, uh... Eliza! Yeah...
Fela: "Eliza?"

Fela: I was expecting like Samuel, or something, but... don't ask me why. Maybe cause that's my brother's name?... Eh, best not to think about it... Delinquency Department? Yeah-- Hi, Janie, how ya-- how ya doin'? Yeah, good, good-- anyways, we found the Waldo. Yeah, it's been a night, haha.

Fela: A meat pile named Greg. He's in Feisty's right now.

Fela: A meat pile named Peter. He's in Feisty's right now.

Fela: A meat pile named Eliza. She's in Feisty's right now.

[Two muscular demons teleport in front of Feisty's and head to the left.]

Fela: Yeah, yeah. No, it took longer than I thought, it really did. Thanks. Say Hi to Addrammelech for me. Okay. Bye.

[Fela hangs up.]

Fela: Shit, I forgot he left her for his podiatrist.

Milo: Uh, what'll happen to, uh--

Fela: Oh, nothing much. They'll take 'em and give 'em a stern talking to, you know... Right before condemning them to an eternity in the Ninth Circle-- where they'll be hacked into infinite pieces by multi-limbed, feathered serpents who do not fuck around, lemme tell you. I've see 'em in action. Woo! You gotta wear a raincoat when you go down there for lunch.

Lola: Um... isn't that punishment a little... disproportional to the, uh, crime?
Fela: Not really! They've seen what shouldn't be seen by living eyes. And God really does not appreciate frauds of any sort, you know, it's-- it's kind of a whole thing with Him.

Lola: Oh. Sounds, uh... yeah.

Fela: Thanks a lot, guys, this is such-- such a big help. I know you did it just for the invite, but--

Fela: When you get to the party, we should get that drink with me you promised me you'd have... with me.

Fela: When you get to the party, you should get that drink with me you said you'd maybe have... with me.

Fela: Sound good?

Lola: Um, I guess... if we have time...

Lola: Yeah, most definitely. You helped us out here, like-- more than you can imagine.

Milo: Um, sure! We'll, uh, look for you.

[The muscular demons walk by with the person Lola or Milo pointed towards in custody.]

Greg: What the fuck! Are you-- are you serious?! How could you mother fuckers!
Milo: Just, uh, just pretend you can't hear him.
Greg: I can hear you pretending you don't hear me you giant asshole! I'm gonna get flayed here!

Pete: What! What did I do?! I just-- I just wanted to drive the bus with my plonker!
Milo: Just, uh, just pretend you can't hear him.
Pete: Who's got a problem with that, huh? You tell me, who's-- who doesn't find that whimsical and hilarious?!

Eliza: Hey, where-- where are we going? My ride's almost here...
Milo: Just, uh, just pretend you can't hear her.
Eliza: Oh, hey, it's-- it's those guys-- I-- didn't we just talk about... something?

Fela: Alright, get out of here, you knuckleheads. Just drop my name at the entrance and they'll let you in. Thanks again, guys.

Milo: So... should we... like... talk about what just--

Lola: You know, Milo, I... I just don't want to. Okay? I'm gonna take a mulligan on this one, I just-- I don't wanna think about it, so I'm just not. There are some things that are just beyond... Like--I--I really like chocolate milk. I really like. And I-- and I donated a lot of my time to homeless shelters and animal shelters and money to organizations and-- and so fuck it, okay, I'm gonna enjoy chocolate milk without any-- pontificating about how the cows are sad and the workers are sad and the truckers that ship it are sad-- and how the agricultural industry is fucked up in countless ways and--and--so--I... I'm just--I... I am chocolate milking this.

Milo: Eh, we kinda... did this, though.
Lola: Chocolate milking it!
Milo: Okay.

Milo: Sounds good!

[Milo and Lola must arrive at the dock and call Sam's taxi.]

Lola: Where is she?

[Skip to Wormhorn's First Review.]

Helping Lynda (Optional)[]

Arriving at Little Rantalia[]

Sam: Okay, Little Rantalia, here we are, one of Hell's oldest districts, founded, uh, founded right after the war. Lots of relics, landmarks-- a carrot juice bar just opened up on the other side of town, and, uh, oh... --the Durdy Hurdy Gurdy's just down the road, there.

Lola: That's where, uh, Lynda said she wants that drink, right?

Sam: Yep! Okay, kids, text me if you need a ride. Have fun at music camp.

[Sam drives off.]

Milo: Actually now that I'm thinking about it, I think I have heard of Mercury Wyrm.

Lola: Yeah didn't they reinvent themselves in the eighties, becoming some synth monstrosity?

Milo: I've told you this a hundred thousand times before but--

Lola: "But it's always been a dream of yours to be in a band."

Milo: Yeah! I mean, I don't know if you remember, but I tried in that one talent show in sixth grade? I played a harpsichord? And classical trumpet? It was like a--like an alternating thing?

Lola: Yeah, I think it was a good decision to, uh, retire from performing after that.
Milo: Hey, c'mon, I--I know an educational jam band isn't to everyone's taste, but...

Lola: Yeah, you were, uh, you were really good.
Milo: Thanks! I know an educational jam band isn't to everyone's taste, but...

Milo: You don't, uh, you don't remember?
Lola: I, uh... no, not really. A lot of stuff is so fuzzy, you know-- don't take it personally.
Milo: No, I understand.

Milo: I think some of the faculty--or at leat Mr. Thompson liked it. He was nodding his head, at least.

Lola: Mr. Thompson lost his hearing in Vietnam.
Milo: Well... it's a beautiful country.

Lola: Yeah, he definitely seemed to like what he heard, so.

Milo: It was just so embarrassing--being up on that stage, getting booed. Or, uh, make friends... But maybe I'm just being melodramatic.

Lola: Well, none of that matters anymore, anyway. School's out, fuckos, we're done.
Milo: We're also presently done with life, but yes, I get your point.

Lola: Look, Milo, kids at that age are just dickbags. I mean, what twelve year old's even heard of Metal Machine Music--
Milo: I think that was the music teacher that said that, but the point still stands.

Milo: ...Ugh.

Meeting the Chanters[]

[Milo and Lola make their way across the island. Along the way, they pass by a group of Gregorian chanters.]

Longinus: *chanting a gregorian chant*

Athalos: *chanting a gregorian chant*

Hadrian: You two! You there! The ebony woman and the lemon man!

Longinus: Hail and well met!

Athalos: Hail and well met!

Longinus: ...Hail and ill met.

Lola: Fuck off! I get enough racist catcalling at my therapist's office, thank you.
Longinus: Oh, our sincerest apologies if we've offended you. We... aren't up on the modern descriptors.

Lola: Uh, yeah, hail and well met, my dudes.
Hadrian: "Dudes!" Did you hear that, Longinus? The maiden hath called us dudes. 'Tis an honor!

Hadrian: Okay, well! We thank you for thine time, ya gnash-gabs. We know you can hear us! We can see you still have ears!
Athalos: Won't anyone please help? The tuner, it's-- it's just right there!
Longinus: Someone will surely come along and aid us in our-- our time of need!
Athalos: And don't call me Shirley.
Longinus: Come again?
Athalos: Shirley. The name. It's a-- a bit of a reversal on how you just used the word.
Longinus: No it isn't. That makes no sense.
Athalos: Well I-- I'm just trying to lighten the mood!

(Said "'Ebony woman?' Fuck off!" or "Yeah, hi.")

Milo: Do you, uh, do you guys need something?
Hadrian: That is so kind of you to offer. We would indeed humbly ask for your assistance.
Longinus: Yes, could the Ethiopian please pick up the small whistle-like contraption resting there at my feet?
Hadrian: I'm afraid that's our tuner.
Longinus: Hadrian here dropped it.
Hadrian: One's hand tends to get sweaty...
Athalos: Much like how one's "A" is most assuredly a "C Sharp."
Hadrian: Not that we're naming names.

Tuner?
Ethiopian?!
(Say nothing.)
Tuner?

Lola: That's a tuner? And you really need this that bad?
Longinus: One of us needs it that bad...

Ethiopian?!

Lola: Um, excuse me?! Ethiopian? How the fuck did you guys die-- a burning cross fall on you?
Longinus: I don't understand that reference...
Hadrian: Oh no, it's happening again. My sincerest apologies. We don't always know the correct vernacular.
Longinus: Yes, we mean you no verbal harm.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: We'll, uh... we'll think on it.
Hadrian: T--take your time!

Athalos: But if you could please hand us the fallen vocal adjuster whenever convenient... we'd be most appreciative, thank you.
(This choice cannot run out of time.)

(Hand tuner to chanters)
(Kick tuner in to river)
(Hand tuner to chanters)

Lola: Here you go.
Hadrian: Oh! You've done it!
Longinus: A surprise for the ages. Thank you so much.
Hadrian: We certainly appreciate it. Even Longinus here is eternally grateful.
Longinus: I'm grateful, to be true, but let's not engorge the phrasing here.

Just watch what you say next time.
Good luck on your singing.
Just watch what you say next time.

Lola: Yeah, just, uh, watch what you say and how you say it next time.
Milo: Yeah, this isn't you know, 1992, or whenever you guys died.
Longinus: Of course, of course, it's just hard to keep up with current trends when your body is kept motionless and in constant agony.

Good luck on your singing.

Lola: Keep up the good work?
Milo: Yeah, can't wait to see what you do in the future!
Longinus: I can almost guarantee that, whatever it is, we'll be standing right here.

Hadrian: Thank you.
Longinus: Thank you.
Athalos: Thank you.
Longinus: Athalos, you're still flat!
Athalos: Um, what chant should we perform, now that we have our--
Longinus: The Mass of the Angels.
Athalos: That one has, um, unripened for me in the past hundred years.
Longinus: What about Stabat Mater?
Athalos: I-- well maybe it's my upbringing, but I think it's better when woman perform that one--
Longinus: Well then you pick the damn music, then.
Athalos: No, I don't wanna pick, it's-- it can-- it can be whatever you want.
Longinus: "Whatever I want--" like the Italian restaurant last winter?
Athalos: I ate the lasagna, what more do you need?
Longinus: I need you to voice your opinion so we don't argue about laundry detergent every breakfast!
Athalos: Okay, let's just... let's think on it a bit. Quietly.

(Kick tuner in to river)

Lola: This the tuner you want?
Hadrian: Yes, thank you, kindly.
Lola: Go fetch.
[Lola kicks the tuner into the river.]
Hadrian: No!
Longinus: Well... now Athalos is going to be off key forever.
Milo: Well... you are in Hell, so.
Longinus: Oh, damnable thieves--harpies, the lot of you!
Atholos: That's like the fifth person who's not only refused to help us... But has actively made our circumstances worse.
Longinus: The dwarf, the siamese twins, the ashen-faced fellow, the harlot, the floozy, the--
Athalos: Maybe it's how we are, uh, addressing the poor souls that's... potentially dismaying them.
Longinus: Possibly.
Athalos: But probably not--
Longinus: No, definitely not.

The Durdy Hurdy Gurdy[]

[Lola and Milo must enter the Durdy Hurdy Gurdy.]

Lola: The "Durdy Hurdy Gurdy." Well, by the looks of it, they serve a lot of luke warm salmon.

Milo: After you!

Lola: Oh, no no no. After you.

[They enter the building.]

Witch 1: *laughing*

Witch 2: No no no, hear to the end of the story!

Milo: Think that lonely looking woman with the haunting stare and perfect cheek bones is--

Lola: Is Lynda? Yeah, you could have just said the one with the guitar.

Prop Guitarist: Yeah, that's Lynda, alright.

Lola: [gasp]

Milo: [gasp]

Prop Singer: Oh, don't be scared... We're just the accursed souls of dead musicians, forever trapped in this shithouse of schlock-- by that wretched virago, Onoskelis.

Milo: Oh. Who's, uh, O--

Prop Rockstar: *suddenly shouting* Onoskelis! The Grand Negotiator, the Band Manager of Hades...

Prop Guitarist: And the Fallen Angel that owns the bar you're standing in. But if you wanna talk to Lynda... take the puke purple mile down to the end. Can't miss her.

Prop Rockstar: And be sure to check out our gift shop!

Milo: Hey, uh, listen... this is gonna sound weird, but, with Lynda... can I, like, do all the talking?

Lola: Why?

Milo: It's just I've never gotten to be that guy, you know, ordering a woman a drink, sliding it across the bar...

Lola: Hey, if you wanna practice your cold calling in bars, be my guest. Just remember why we're here.

Milo: Awesome, yeah, no, totally. Eyes on the prize.

[Control switches to Milo.]

Conversation with Prop Musicians (Optional)[]

[Milo or Lola can talk to the prop musicians.]

(Milo variant)
(Lola variant)
(Milo variant)

Milo: Sorry to, uh, but-- I have to ask... why are you trapped here like glittering fish in a very depressing aquarium?

(Lola variant)

Lola: Hey, so, uh, just out of curiosity... Why are you all stuck here like the saddest Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum I've ever seen?

Prop Rockstar: Oh, a sampler platter of reasons, really. I challenged Ono to a fiddle-off. Lost... cause I forgot I don't know how to play the fiddle.
Prop Singer: I sold my soul for a number one hit. Died of a chocolate overdose not ten days later. To be-- to be fair, I ate that much chocolate cause I was on a lot of heroin at the time, but--
Prop Guitarist: [over her] And I wanted to be the best guitar player in the world. Ono made it happen, and then I suffocated in a fifty two person orgy.
Lola: I'll be sure to, uh, check out your guys's stuff when I get my streaming subscription back.
Prop Rockstar: Yeah, thanks for the nickel.

(Milo variant)
(Lola variant)
(Milo variant)

Milo: Hey, what is it-- what's it actually like, being famous and playing music to huge crowds?

(Lola variant)

Lola: What's it really like... being a famous musician, I mean.

Prop Rockstar: What do you think getting courted by supermodels and-- having throngs of thousands sing your words back to you feels like?
Milo: Um, pretty good?
Prop Guitarist: Wrong. I took a hollowed-out rhinoceros horn of coke every morning just to face my butler.
Prop Singer: Getting validated from forces outside your control leads to beating up a Bouncy Castle cause it looked at you funny.
Prop Rockstar: Seek acceptance from within, my friends. And if you can't, please buy my newest EP, out tomorrow, it'll-- it'll do the trick, too, I promise.

(Milo variant)
(Lola variant)
(Milo variant)

Milo: You ever think you maybe should've just... tried your best without the aid of a demonic power?

(Lola variant)

Lola: Do you ever regret going for the easy win? You know... making a deal with a demon?

Prop Rockstar: Uh... actually, sometimes I--
Prop Guitarist: Fuck no.
Prop Singer: No, never.
Prop Rockstar: Yeah, actually no, no we don't-- we were on top of the world and lost it all. Only kings, presidents... and handsome people who are extremely lucky know what that's like.
Prop Singer: Wouldn't trade that shit for Heaven. I mean, have you seen what they wear up there?

[Milo or Lola can look at the gift shop.]

Lola: Wanna get like a hat or something? I already have The Song Remains the Same on DVD.

Milo: Nah, I'm good. I don't think we'll be able to take anything back with us, anyway.

Conversation with Three Witches (Optional)[]

[Milo can speak with three witches by the bar.]

Witch 3: No, the Salem Witch trials were actually right! They just killed all the midwives and missed us!

Witch 1: [cackles]

Witch 2: [cackles]

Milo: Oh uh, hey, excuse us-- is anyone here familiar with Lynda Landon?

Witch 1: Oh. Uh-- yeah, she's playing here tonight.

Witch 2: That's why we're here.

Witch 3: What about you?

Milo: You three, uh, wouldn't happen to know how to get into Satan's party? We're here caue we think Lynda has a spare invitation...
Witch 2: [creepy giggle] Good luck with that.

Lola: Oh no yeah, yeah, we're big fans.
Milo: We're huge fans, big huge fans--
Lola: Yeah, we--uh--we committed some pretty heinous crimes against God and man to see her play tonight.
Witch 3: Cool, yeah, us, too. I mean, those babies won't eat themselves, so..

Milo: Have you... um, seen Lynda around by chance? Maybe doing pre-show autographs?...

Witch 1: She's hanging out over yonder. But she hasn't done an autograph since '96--

Witch 2: Yeah, the sharpies down here scream when you use them.

Milo: ...Good to know.

[Milo and Lola must sit down to get a drink from the bartender.]

Line Demon: Three Bomb Squads and a, uh-- do you have anything with honey in it?

Durdy Bartender: Yeah. We have six drinks that contain wasp urine.

Line Demon Four Bomb Squads.

Durdy Bartender: I'll send 'em over to your table. Next!

[The demon leaves.]

Durdy Bartender: We're fresh outta Priest Bladder... but what can I get ya.

[Milo can select from the Jeffrey Bomber, Student of Prague, Woland's Margarita, and The Black Death. The bartender makes their drink.]

Milo: And, uh, one more for our friend over there. Lynda Landon.

Durdy Bartender: Gotta tell me which drink-- I'm not a drunk idiot mind reader.

[Milo can select from the Jeffrey Bomber, Student of Prague, Woland's Margarita, and The Black Death.]

Durdy Bartender: I'll send a demon waiter over to her table with it.

Milo: Alright. Let's go, uh, chat her up, get that invite.

Durdy Hurdy Gurdy Bar Options[]

[Milo and Lola can go back for another drink.]

Line Man: So the plane crashes, and my friend-- he plays the octobass? He uses it like a damn inflatable raft while sharks bop me around like a fuckin' chew toy.
Line Woman: Wait, this sounds like classical music. I don't fuck composers, okay?
Durdy Bartender: Keep the line movin', thank you.
[The two leave.]
Durdy Bartender: What'll ya have.

Pirate Eddie: No, I was the lead singer of this tribute band when one day I just woke up, you know? Don't sing someone else's shitty songs about love, write and sell your own to auto insurance commercials. I locked myself in that safe, though, before I could really self-actualize, but--
Durdy Bartender: Move it or lose it, people, thank you.
[Pirate Eddie and her companion leave.]
Durdy Bartender: Wanna go again?

(Intro variants)

Durdy Bartender: Want something?
Durdy Bartender: What'll you have?
Durdy Bartender: Changing the music?
Durdy Bartender: Time for a different tune?
Durdy Bartender: Need a refill? Or wanna change it up?
Durdy Bartender: Think you want something else?

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: A Jeffrey Bomber... is what I want to drink.
Durdy Bartender: Jeffrey Bomber, one of my favorites.

Milo: One Jeffrey Bomber, thanks.
Durdy Bartender: Jeffrey Bomber, sure thing.

Milo: Just a Jeffrey Bomber.
Durdy Bartender: One Jeffrey Bomber on it's way.

Milo: A Jeffrey Bomber, yeah, that one.
Durdy Bartender: A Jeffrey Bomber will soon by made.

(Lola variants)

Lola: A Jeffrey Bomber, if you please.
Durdy Bartender: Jeffrey Bomber, one of my favorites.

Lola: Jeffrey Bomber, I guess.
Durdy Bartender: Jeffrey Bomber, sure thing.

Lola: Um... a Jeffrey Bomber?
Durdy Bartender: One Jeffrey Bomber on it's way.

Lola: The, uh, that Jeffrey Bomber one.
Durdy Bartender: A Jeffrey Bomber will soon by made.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: One Student of Prague, please.
Durdy Bartender: Student of Prague, comin' up.

Milo: A Student of Prague sounds interesting.
Durdy Bartender: One Student of Prague, sure thing.

Milo: I guess I'll go with the Student of Prague.
Durdy Bartender: Okay, one Student of Prague.

Milo: A Student of Prague, thanks.
Durdy Bartender: A Student of Prague, one sec.

(Lola variants)

Lola: Can I get a, uh, a Student of Prague?
Durdy Bartender: Student of Prague, comin' up.

Lola: One Student of Prague.
Durdy Bartender: One Student of Prague, sure thing.

Lola: I guess I'll go with a Student of Prague.
Durdy Bartender: Okay, one Student of Prague.

Lola: A Student of Prague sounds good.
Durdy Bartender: A Student of Prague, one sec.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: One Woland's Margarita, if you, uh, if you want.
Durdy Bartender: Woland's Margarita, my favorite to make.

Milo: A Woland's Margarita?
Durdy Bartender: A Woland's Margarita, okay.

Milo: Yeah, a, uh, a Woland's Margarita.
Durdy Bartender: The Woland's Margarita, sure thing.

Milo: The-- the Woland's Margarita one.
Durdy Bartender: A Woland's Margarita, comin' up.

(Lola variants)

Lola: Uh, Woland's Margarita.
Durdy Bartender: Woland's Margarita, my favorite to make.

Lola: One Woland's Margarita should, you know, do the trick.
Durdy Bartender: A Woland's Margarita, okay.

Lola: A Woland's Margarita, por favor.
Durdy Bartender: The Woland's Margarita, sure thing.

Lola: I'll take a Woland's Margarita.
Durdy Bartender: A Woland's Margarita, comin' up.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: The Black Death, thanks.
Durdy Bartender: Black Death, sure.

Milo: I'll take a Black Death.
Durdy Bartender: One Black Death, just a minute.

Milo: I think I'll have a Black Death.
Durdy Bartender: Black Death, easy.

Milo: A Black Death sounds good.
Durdy Bartender: You asked for a Black Death, you're getting a Black Death.

(Lola variants)

Lola: One Black Death.
Durdy Bartender: Black Death, sure.

Lola: I'll take a Black Death, please.
Durdy Bartender: One Black Death, just a minute.

Lola: A Black Death, if you can spare the time.
Durdy Bartender: Black Death, easy.

Lola: Just a Black Death, thanks.
Durdy Bartender: You asked for a Black Death, you're getting a Black Death.

Conversation with Lynda Landon[]

[Milo and Lola must talk to Lynda Landon.]

Milo: [clears throat] Hi, um, I... uh...
Lynda: Yes?
Demon Waiter: A Woland's Margarita, from the gentleman with the mulberry wig.
Lynda: [light laugh] How nice of you. Thanks.
Lola: [coughs]

You're welcome!
Are you going to Satan's party?
You look a little down. (Liquid Courage)
I noticed you from across the way... (Lovable Lush)
Going stag tonight? (Witty Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
You're welcome!

Milo: Thanks! I mean-- you're welcome.
Lynda: Well, the walk there and back earned you at least two minutes.^[7] Have a seat.

Are you going to Satan's party?

Milo: Are you-- this is gonna sound random, but are you going to Satan's party by chance?
Lynda: Did you get me this drink to get into Satan's party by chance?
Lola: N--not entirely-- that was a lie, I'm sorry.
Lynda: Take a seat, it's early, I could use the-- well, not the company but the entertainment.

You look a little down. (Liquid Courage)

Milo: Hey, so, sorry to bother you, but you look a little like the kid that let her balloon into the powerlines.
Lynda: Eh, that kid would look a lot happier than me. Seeing stuff explode is fun. But no, I'm doing alright.

I noticed you from across the way... (Lovable Lush)

Milo: Hey, I, uh, I couldn't help but notice you from across the bar. The eyebrows, the sharp knuckles-- it was like a tractor beam, pulling me in.
Lola: Oh my God--
Lynda: Well then! Other than my knuckles, what um, titillated you from all the way across the bar. If I may inquire.

Your guitar playing.
Your invitation to Satan's.
Your body! And face! (Lovable Lush)
(Say nothing.)
Your guitar playing.

Milo: Your, uh, guitar playing. I mean, it's hard to beat a lady with a guitar, right? That's like a, uh, a guy with a crow on his shoulder.
Lynda: If I thought I was like a guy with a crow on his shoulder I think I'd probably do something terrible to myself and others.

Your invitation to Satan's.

Milo: Your invitation to Satan's, too, that's-- with the knuckles and the eyebrows-- it's a mix of-- of emotions.
Lynda: Oh, why do you wanna go to Lucifer's thing? The reunion?
Lola: What reunion?
[Skip to "Lynda: Oh Jesus, okay, some back story..."]

Your body! And face! (Lovable Lush)

Milo: Uh, the usual, you know, the-- the whole package. Body, face, ten fingers, probably ten toes.
Lynda: Those are the, uh, typical indicators of good health, yes.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Um, I'm sure he just liked the fact that you were a musician. Are a musician? Sorry, I don't know the--
Lynda: I am a musician, thank you. You don't stop being what you were just cause you died. That's why we have tombstones. So we can say, "See? I am that guy that burned eighteen orphans."
Lola: No-- of course.

Going stag tonight? (Witty Asshole)

Milo: Going stag tonight? Did your friends bail on you or did you bail on them?
Lynda: Is that supposed to be a joke?
Lola: [clears throat]

Um, yes?
No and I'm so sorry.
I'm sensing a story, here! (Witty Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
Um, yes?

Milo: Ummm. Yes? Maybe? Yes. Yessss?...
Lynda: Stop.
Milo: Okay.
Lola: Sorry, he's, uh, still getting acclimated. We're still getting-- we're new. Ish.
Lynda: Well... you got me the drink. So. Well, the walk there and back earned you at least two minutes.^[7] Have a seat.

No and I'm so sorry.

Milo: No, I'm sorry, it was a stupid icebreaker and I can see from the way your brow is creasing that you are not the type of woman to--
Lynda: Stop.
Milo: Okay.
Lola: Sorry, he's, uh, still getting acclimated. We're still getting-- we're new. Ish.
Lynda: Well... you got me the drink. So. Well, the walk there and back earned you at least two minutes.^[7] Have a seat.

I'm sensing a story, here! (Witty Asshole)

Milo: Hey, is anyone else's story-radar going fucking bananas right now? My story-radar's as good as my gaydar, by the way-- it's only ever been wrong once-- And that Animal Control guy was at least bi.
Lynda: Yeah, there's a story. I'm surprised you don't know it.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Clearly it was meant to be a joke, and it failed spectacularly, so... nevermind.
Lynda: Well... you got me the drink. So. Well, the walk there and back earned you at least two minutes.^[7] Have a seat.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Uh... we got you a drink. Hope you like margaritas made in goat carcasses.
Lynda: Honestly, nothing would better hit the spot right now. Well, the walk there and back earned you at least two minutes.^[7] Have a seat.

Milo: [clears throat] Hi, um, are you--
Lynda: No I won't take a picture with you or sign your femur. And I'm kinda in the middle of something.
Lola: Really? Cause it looks like you just--
Lynda: This timeline isn't going to refresh itself.

Are you going to Satan's party?
Want a drink?
I got something for you to sign... (Liquid Courage/Witty Asshole)
Having a bad night? (Lovable Lush)
(Say nothing.)
Are you going to Satan's party?

Milo: Hey, are you by chance going to--

Want a drink?

Milo: Uh, wanna drink? I can--

I got something for you to sign... (Liquid Courage/Witty Asshole)

Milo: Yeah, I got something for you--

Having a bad night? (Lovable Lush)

Milo: By your tone, I sense that you're--

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Look, we're only over here to--

(Ordered a drink)
(Didn't order a drink)
(Ordered a drink)

[A demon waiter teleports by the table and walks up to them.]

(Student of Prague)
(Jeffrey Bomber)
(Black Death)
(Student of Prague)

Demon Waiter: A Student of Prague, from the gentleman with the mulberry wig.

(Jeffrey Bomber)

Demon Waiter: A Jeffrey Bomber, from the gentleman with the mulberry wig.

(Black Death)

Demon Waiter: A Black Death, from the gentleman with the mulberry wig.

Milo: Uh, my hair isn't a wig, it's--[to himself] what am I doing?

(Didn't order a drink)

Lynda: Seriously, kids, if you wanna chat the least you can do is get me a margarita.
[Milo and Lola must return to the bar and retrieve the correct drink. After ordering their first drink:]
Milo: Wait, what was the last drink we got her?
Durdy Bartender: Lynda likes Woland's Margaritas. I'll send over one. On the house.
Lola: Thanks!
[Milo and Lola must return to Lynda and speak with her.]
Milo: Hi! I'm, uh, back.
Lynda: Yes, I can see this is happening again. Lucky me.
Milo: Got you a margarita. The menu says it's 'oddly sweet." Just like me, haha.

Lynda: Well, the walk there and back earned you at least two minutes.^[7] Have a seat.

Lynda: I'm Lynda Landon, former lead singer of Mercury Wyrm, current denizen of the fourth circle. But judging by your starstruck faces, I'm sure you already knew that. Not that I would, you know, care too much if you didn't.

Milo: Great cool yeah whatever can we--can we have your invite to Satan's party? We saw your, uh, your Bicker post...
Lynda: Oh so that's what the drink is for, I see. I'm reduced to a fucking scalper. Are you in town for the "reunion," is that why you wanna go?
Lola: What reunion?

Milo: Oh yeah, no, we're big fans, the--the biggest. I have all your... posters and, uh, brand-labeled keychains.
Lola: So I'm sure you're going to Satan's tonight for the "reunion," then.
Lola: What reunion?

Milo: Yeah, I can't say that I've heard of you. Unless... you're not badly mispronouncing The Lafayette Afro Rock Band, are you?
Lynda: So I take it you're not in town for the reunion at Satan's party, tonight, then?

Milo: You're a poet. I could--I could tell, I've got a sixth, seventh, eighth sense when it comes to that stuff.
Lynda: I think Rolling Stone said my lyrics were the ramblings of a baby with poop in its brain. But I sold out five straight nights at Webster Hall so Lester Bangs can go fuck himself. Are you in town for the "reunion" at Satan's party tonight?
Lola: What reunion?

Lola: Hi, Lynda. To be perfectly frank, we want to get into Satan's party tonight... And we read your Bicker post-- about your spare invitation?
Lynda: Are you in town for the "reunion," is that why you wanna go?
Lola: What reunion?

Lynda: Oh Jesus, okay, some back story... Mercury Wyrm was my band, obviously, but we broke up... And in my discerning absence they added a keyboardist and started collaborating with fifteen year old DJ's... The fuckers took a Fame Rocketship to Planet Coke and Hookers, but they all just died in a plane crash like a week ago. How romantic, right? But they're the hot new diarrhea so Satan booked 'em for his house party, tonight. Maybe all the album covers posing with drugged white tigers finally bit them in the ass... and other places. Many other places, hopefully.

Milo: Wait, if they died in a plane crash... and you weren't with the band... and you can't fly...
Lynda: Then how'd I end up here?

Milo: Why'd you break up? Was this a "George Michael got too big for WHAM" sorta thing?
Lynda: They were assholes, that's why. Well... that and they wanted me to stop trying to rhyme orangutan in every song.

Milo: Lynda, this would all be very interesting if I was bored on a Sunday watching a documentary about this, but I'm not, so.
Lynda: Well, what a coincidence. I'm getting bored now, too.

Milo: Sorry they were such shitheads. I'm sure you did the right thing, though-- I actually prefer Samy Hagar's solo stuff.

Milo: Yeah, but... it sounds like this is the rare case of the brand breaking up with the singer... right?
Lola: They Vince Neil'd you?
Lynda: It doesn't matter who broke up with who except to the tabloids-- and to my diary and to the technician who ran my sensory deprivation tank.

Lola: Wait, Lynda, just-- if you have a spare invite to Satan's party we could really use it.

Lynda: See... now, that's a problem. When I split from the band, I pledged my eternal soul to Satan for a solo career. And it worked... for about six months... until my 27th birthday when I died parasailing down the Detroit River. Now part of my infernal contractual agreement is to perform shows here. And one's tonight. So I can't go.

Lola: But--

Lynda: And neither can my invitee since you'd need to, you know, come in with me. They won't let you in without me there, see? Sorry if you came just for that.

Milo: Well then why the Hell did you say you had a spare ticket if the other person can't use it?!
Lynda: Honestly I just got tired of getting up to go to the bar.

Milo: Do you think there's a way we could, like, get you out of it for the night?
Lynda: Did Moses "get out of" building the ark?

Milo: Selling your soul to Satan-- why on Earth would you think that would end well for you?
Lynda: If the second most powerful creature in the universe offered you everything you ever wanted in life... when you were at your lowest... you'd be surprised what you would do for that kind of clemency.

I guess if I was really down?
Eh, I don't think so...
Nah, I'm not an idiot. (Liquid Courage)
Maybe for superpowers or something! (Lovable Lush)
I would never fuck myself. (Witty Asshole)
I guess if I was really down?

Milo: Uh, I guess? If I was-- if I was really down? There's been times I would have sold my soul to the microwave if it meant getting rock hard abs.
Lynda: You could also just do crunches for like fifteen minutes a day--

Eh, I don't really think so...

Milo: Eh, I really don't think so. I've read enough fables to know that the Devil really doesn't play fair.
Lynda: And yet you're off to see the wizard to play a game where he and he alone determines the winner...
Milo: Good point.

Nah, I'm not an idiot. (Liquid Courage)

Milo: Nope. I'm not an idiot, so I wouldn't bargain with Satan. I've read enough fables to know that boy doesn't play fair.
Lynda: And yet you're off to see the wizard to play a game where he and he alone determines the winner...
Milo: Good point.

Maybe for superpowers or something! (Lovable Lush)

Milo: Uh, maybe for super powers or something, like-- like the ability to read minds. Even then, your soul's a high price to pay.
Lynda: And yet you're off to see the wizard to play a game where he and he alone determines the winner...
Milo: Good point.

I would never fuck myself. (Witty Asshole)

Milo: Nope. Not me. I would never fuck myself unless I was really in the mood and no one was home to hear me scream. Besides, everyone knows the Devil doesn't play fair.
Lynda: And yet you're off to see the wizard to play a game where he and he alone determines the winner...
Milo: Good point.

Lola: Wait-- wait, lemme just, uh, lemme quarterback this-- you said there's a contract, right? Well shit, people get out of contracts all the time! My Uncle Jeff thought he had a prenup? He's living in a van in Reseda now! She took his damn hamster!

Lynda: Guys--

Lola: Look, what if we just-- we found a loophole, or-- or a replacement! C'mon, give us something here.

Lynda: Huh, it would be nice to be there when Mercury Wyrm falls on their faces... Okay. If you wanna try, you can try, but you gotta deal with Ono, my manager. She owns the bar-- she's downstairs right now, probably looking at another undeveloped "talent." Good luck. If you somehow manage to pull this off, I'll uh... I'll be here. Waiting.

Milo: She isn't going to-- she wouldn't, like, try to steal our souls and make us serve her daiquiris forever down here, would she?
Lynda: Do you have any artistic talent?
Lola: No.
Lynda: Then no, she won't give a shit.

Milo: We'll be back before you can say "Mercury Wyrm!"
Lynda: Mercury Wyrm.
Lola: Come on that wasn't fair. Wait until we actually, like, leave.

Milo: Her name's-- her name's Ono? It should be like--
Lola: Stop.
Milo: Oh No!" Right? Like "Oh God no," or--
Lynda: Yes, we understand, your mother loved you too much.

Milo: We should trade numbers, you know, just in case we get separated and I can't contact you...
Lynda: Sure, yeah, it's 555... Fuck Off Forever.
Milo: Fuck off... wait, I think that's too many numbers.

Milo: "You're welcome" in advance. I'll be coming back for that "Thank you."
Lynda: I'm sure you will.

Lola: So... she's downstairs, you said? This place has a basement?

Lynda: Surprise, it's also a music venue! They dug a big shithole in here and shat out a stage. As for Ono, you can't miss her-- she'll probably be yelling at one of her bedgraggled assistants.

Lola: We'll, uh, keep that in mind, thanks. We'll be back.

Lola: Okay. Ono. Let's just sweet talk her downstairs and get Lynda off-leash.

Milo: Roger.

Meeting Blackhouse and Onoskelis[]

[Control switches to Lola. Milo and Lola must eventually go downstairs, where Blackhouse is performing on the stage.]

Berinon: Yo yo yo, I'm Berinon--

Peyton: And I'm Peyton--

Berinon: And together we're Blackhouse! And we're here with our new single off our mix tape--

Peyton: Not literally a mix tape, but a thing you can get with a download code if you follow us on Bicker--

Berinon: It's called "I Get Mine!" Drop the beat!

[Milo and Lola can interrupt their rapping at any time by talking to Onoskelis and Valac.]

Peyton: Yes yes y'all it's the fuckin' one and only
Blackhouse here to tell ya why the world is phony
And why you motherfuckers feel tired and lonely
Even though you got phones that can bomb Nairobi
It's cause the world sucks! Yessir it does
And don't matter if you're sober or high on drugs
That buzz'll go away, yeah, and when it does
You'll still be stuck on Earth prayin' for a new flood

Berinon: Cause we used to do things like go to actual stores
Filled with actual things stacked on physical floors
And have a funny rapport with the cute clerk who was bored
And then you'd buy a black guy and make him do all your chores
You used to ask a chick out by puttin' her in her place
Remindin' her that she's lucky to have you in her face
They used to laugh at your jokes even if they weren't great
Now you swipe through their photos beggin' for a lunch date

Peyton: All the heroes in movies used to look like me, too
So I'd know who to root for, instead of these dudes
Who twenty percent of the time look like somebody else?
Empathy is a struggle, I try to rebel
Against the knowledge that I am not the only one here
That I can bring about joy, that I instill many fears
That when people go missing, their family hopes they appear
And that they're not just these props, or robot volunteers
Programmed to stand on street corners giving my cockapoo sneers

Berinon: Why can't everyone just tell me all the time that I'm cool
Instead of judging my diet, or being so cruel
As to not even call me when I'm home on the couch
What the fuck are they doin'? Aren't I a good friend?
Don't I buy them a drink, summon the will to pretend
To listen to their shit about work and girlfriends?
To let them drone on and on while I don't condescend
Didn't I say Steve's haircut was--[gets cut off]

[A loud record screech plays.]
Valac: Okay, alright, before this gelatinous blob of a nightmarish experience is allowed to consume us all. You'll hear from us-- you'll be hearing from us.
Berinon: Okay, thank you-- thank you, Ono.
[Blackhouse walks offstage. Milo and Lola must speak to Ono and Valac.]
Milo: Excuse me. But is one of you--
Valac: Excuse me, what is this-- who are you? Do you have an appointment? I actually don't know why I'm asking-- I know you don't have one.

Milo: Excuse me, sorry! Don't mean to interrupt this... thing.
Valac: Excuse me, what is this-- who are you? We're in the middle of an audition. If you can't already tell... and I doubt very much that Blackhouse appreciates the intrusion.

Lola: Which one of you is...
Valac: Ono?
Lola: Uh, yeah.
Valac: Don't look so shocked, it's not like anyone else down here is worth talking to.
Milo: "Down here" as in this basement or "down here" as in, like, Hell?
Valac: Yes. Now... "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

Lola: We, uh, we came here to talk about the... existing infernal contract you have with Lynda Landon?
Lola: Any inquiries into talent availability should be made at the appropriate times with the appropriate vendors.
Lola: We're not talking about--
Lola: Even if it would save your mother's life, I wouldn't take the moments to learn what you're talking about. Now... "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

Lola: Oh wait, this isn't the bathroom? Glad I didn't pull my pants down too early.
Milo: [laughs] No no, we, uh, we need to talk to Ono? It's important.

Lola: Hey! What's up everybody!
[A beat of awkward silence.]
Valac: Is that it-- is that what you came down here to say, is that-- The entire reason your mother chose to keep you? Did we just witness it? Mm?

We, uh, want to talk to Ono?
Uhhh... sorry?
Man. Tough crowd. (Lovable Lush)
(Say nothing.)
We, uh, want to talk to Ono?

Lola: Uh, n-no, we, um, also wanted to ask to talk to Ono for j-just a tiny lil' spoonful of minutes--
Valac: No one talks to Onoskelis without an appointment. Now... "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

Uhhh... sorry?

Lola: Um, sorry? Are we interrupting something everyone actually wants to be happening?
Valac: For half the room, maybe, but unfortunately for you... "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

Man. Tough crowd. (Lovable Lush)

Lola: Man, tough crowd. I feel like we just walked in on a snuff film set.
Valac: It will almost assuredly leave the same emotional mark, I'm afraid, but unfortunately for you... "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: We, uh, need to talk to Ono? It's important.
Valac: I'm sure you believe that, but-- "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

(Interrupted Blackhouse)
(Didn't interrupt Blackhouse)
(Interrupted Blackhouse)

Lola: Trust me, we're doing you a favor. I'm not even sure if this counts as "music."
Peyton: Hey! Dishrag! We're sweatin' our tits off up here, so will you back your ass up off our collective crotch!
Berinon: Yeah, these lights are hotter than they look!
Peyton: And we keep forgetting the words, and-- okay-- that's-- That's my fault, I'll-- we can cop to that.

You're horrible people!
Sorry but you're terrible.
Don't quit your day jobs! (Witty Asshole)
You're horrible people!

Lola: Are you kidding? You're horrible people! You can't possibly think you're gonna get, like, whatever a record deal down here is with this filth?
Berinon: Hey! We don't come down to where you work and knock the-- the-- pen out of your hand, cause you're obviously a music critic!

Sorry but you're terrible.

Lola: Look, I'm sorry guys, but you're just really, really pretty awful-- like the worst thing I've ever heard.
Berinon: Hey! We don't come down to where you work and knock the-- the-- pen out of your hand, cause you're obviously a music critic!

Don't quit your day jobs! (Witty Asshole)

Lola: Hey, look, I'm sure your family has told you this before, but don't quit your day job. Which... I'm guessing is something that requires very little self esteem.
Berinon: Hey! We don't come down to where you work and knock the-- the-- pen out of your hand, cause you're obviously a music critic!

Valac: Enough. You-- people we don't know. "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

(Didn't interrupt Blackhouse)

Lola: Man... those last guys sure sucked. I'm not sure you can even technically call it "music."
Valac: Ah, another music critic-- it seems like we get an ocean liner's worth every month. Unfortunately for you, we don't have any need for people who lost their girlfriend to a piano mover, now... "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

Milo: We, uh, need to talk to Ono? It's important.
Valac: I'm sure you believe that, but-- "Church mice scurry, and you're in a hurry"-- so get out.

Ono: Eh-- don't mind him, kids-- little... Chattanooga Choo Choos. Valac couldn't find the right spoon for his cereal this morning so now he's a little ill-tempered.^[8]

Valac: They don't have an-- there's no meeting scheduled...

(Interrupted Blackhouse)

Ono: Just hit the pause button, okay? Give us a break, here-- you'd give a fuckin' rock a headache.
Valac: [Sighs] Fine. We'll continue this shortly. Butthouse, thank you.
[Blackhouse exits stage left.]

Ono: I'm Onoskelis. Some folks call me Ono-- that's my auxiliary, Valac, he... girds and guards my affairs.

Valac: I prefer the term executive peon, but--

Ono: And you thought this was the lavatory. Which it, uh, atleast partly is... There's just-- there are specific rooms for it. It's not the entire floor.

Ono: And you are doing a... book report... on Lynda Landon's autobiography, "Does the Hyena Cry." "The Lynda Landon Parable." It didn't really fly off the shelves if I remember.

Ono: And you... are wanting to speak with me... about... buying... girl scout cookies? Is it even the right season for that? I'm just riffing off your clothes, really. You're missing-- you're missing the sash.

Lola: You need to let Lynda out of her contract, uh, just for the night, but-- it is a bit of an emergency.
Ono: I need to let Lynda out of her contract-- why do I need to let Lynda out of her contract.

Lola: We need to get Lynda out of her contract, it's-- uh-- it's just of dire importance to us.
Ono: You "need" to get Lynda out of her contract-- why do you need to get Lynda out of her contract.

Lola: Look, Ono. Lynda really needs a break-- I know exhaustion in the entertainment industry is code for "I ran out of my horse tranquilizers" but this is actually serious...
Ono: She's already dead. How can it be serious?
Milo: She--
Ono: [over him] No, what is this really about, c'mon, my stopwatch is runnin'. You don't want Lynda to work tonight? Why do you not want Lynda to work tonight?

Lola: Look, Ono, Lynda... has been going through kind of a rough time, what with, uh, Jupiter being in... pretendograde. So we're gonna take her out, you know, on the town-- show her-- show her a good time--
Ono: The last time anyone took out Lynda she was living in a fourteen acre mansion in Beverly Hills.
Milo: She--
Ono: [over him] No, what is this really about, c'mon, my stopwatch is runnin'. You want to take Lynda out tonight? Why do you want to take Lynda out tonight?

Lola: Look, Ono, it's Lynda's-- birthday. Can you believe it? [mumbling] years ago today she was born, and now we, her good friends, are gonna, uh, throw her a party. So--
Ono: The last time Lynda had a birthday party, she was fifteen, working in her father's hotdog factory.
Milo: She--
Ono: [over him] No, what is this really about, c'mon, my stopwatch is runnin'. You don't want Lynda to work tonight? Why do you not want Lynda to work tonight?

Milo: We, uh, really need to get Lynda out of her contract, it's-- uh, just of dire importance to us.

Valac: Speak quickly, now.

Lola: Uh, we actually want to try and do the... outparty Satan thing? To escape Hell?

(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)
(Said you're taking Lynda out)
(Said it's Lynda's birthday)
(Said Lynda needs a break)
(Said nothing)
(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)

Ono: So. I need to let Lynda out of her contract tonight...

(Said you're taking Lynda out)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out tonight...

(Said it's Lynda's birthday)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out for her birthday tonight...

(Said Lynda needs a break)

Ono: So. Lynda Landon needs a break tonight...

(Said nothing)

Ono: So. you need Lynda out of her contract tonight...

Ono: So you can... drink the night away at Satan's house and try and earn your way back home.

Lola: Lynda really wants to see her old band Mercury Wyrm at Satan's house tonight.

(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)
(Said you're taking Lynda out)
(Said it's Lynda's birthday)
(Said Lynda needs a break)
(Said nothing)
(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)

Ono: So. I need to let Lynda out of her contract tonight...

(Said you're taking Lynda out)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out tonight...

(Said it's Lynda's birthday)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out for her birthday tonight...

(Said Lynda needs a break)

Ono: So. Lynda Landon needs a break tonight...

(Said nothing)

Ono: So. you need Lynda out of her contract tonight...

Ono: So she can see her old, rusted coat-of-arms Mercury Wyrm at Lucifer's shindig.

Lola: Hey, honey, why ask why? When it's so much more fun to just say yes.

(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)
(Said you're taking Lynda out)
(Said it's Lynda's birthday)
(Said Lynda needs a break)
(Said nothing)
(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)

Ono: So. I need to let Lynda out of her contract tonight...

(Said you're taking Lynda out)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out tonight...

(Said it's Lynda's birthday)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out for her birthday tonight...

(Said Lynda needs a break)

Ono: So. Lynda Landon needs a break tonight...

(Said nothing)

Ono: So. you need Lynda out of her contract tonight...

Ono: ...for some vague, infatigable reason I'm sure is quite beyond my levels of understanding.

Lola: Okay, what do you want to hear-- let's just skip the pleasantries and go straight to closing arguments.

(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)
(Said you're taking Lynda out)
(Said it's Lynda's birthday)
(Said Lynda needs a break)
(Said nothing)
(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)

Ono: So. I need to let Lynda out of her contract tonight...

(Said you're taking Lynda out)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out tonight...

(Said it's Lynda's birthday)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out for her birthday tonight...

(Said Lynda needs a break)

Ono: So. Lynda Landon needs a break tonight...

(Said nothing)

Ono: So. you need Lynda out of her contract tonight...

Ono: ...for some vague, infatigable reason I'm sure is quite beyond my levels of understanding.

Lola: Cause it's the only way out of this shithole you freaks call home. We're doing the outdrink Satan thing.

(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)
(Said you're taking Lynda out)
(Said it's Lynda's birthday)
(Said Lynda needs a break)
(Said nothing)
(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)

Ono: So. I need to let Lynda out of her contract tonight...

(Said you're taking Lynda out)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out tonight...

(Said it's Lynda's birthday)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out for her birthday tonight...

(Said Lynda needs a break)

Ono: So. Lynda Landon needs a break tonight...

(Said nothing)

Ono: So. you need Lynda out of her contract tonight...

Ono: ...so you can... drink the night away at Satan's house and try and earn your way back home.

(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)
(Said you're taking Lynda out)
(Said it's Lynda's birthday)
(Said Lynda needs a break)
(Said nothing)
(Said Lynda needs to get out of her contract)

Ono: So. I need to let Lynda out of her contract tonight...

(Said you're taking Lynda out)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out tonight...

(Said it's Lynda's birthday)

Ono: So. You need to take Lynda out for her birthday tonight...

(Said Lynda needs a break)

Ono: So. Lynda Landon needs a break tonight...

(Said nothing)

Ono: So. you need Lynda out of her contract tonight...

Ono: ...for some vague, infatigable reason I'm sure is quite beyond my levels of understanding.

Ono: And your father's label maker said... what on your toy chests.

Milo: Milo and Lola.

Ono: Milo and Lola-- Valac, how many years left on Lynda's termsheet?

Valac: Roughly ten thousand years. Lynda got a discount for time served when she lived in San Antonio that summer.

Ono: Okay. Sold. She can have the night off.

Milo: Yeah!

Ono: But you'll have to find a a loaner.

Milo: Um... yeah?

Valac: A replacement act. We can't be understaffed.

Lola: Easy! You just want someone who can sing, right? Play recorder? I don't know what Lynda's act is like...
Valac: It's music.

Lola: So, what are you looking for? Mime? Clown? Mime-clown?
Valac: It's music.

Lola: Yeah, but that sounds like work, and we wanna kind of avoid that as much as possible right--

Lola: Hey, whatever you want, praying mantis face, your wish is my command.

Lola: We're not talent scouts-- I have no idea how to corral some random street performer in time--
Valac: Well you better take some night classes, then, if you want Lynda ungrounded.

Milo: Okay, that's-- and do you have someone in mind, or...
Valac: It's music.

Valac: Just find a musician.

Ono: And don't just go and get any waterlogged corpse that's not at home, watching TV, okay?

Milo: No, definitely not, these-- it'll be, uh, top shelf.

Ono: ...I should-- I'll cryptically add this-- think about the risk here, potentially... Before you zip off to Never Never Land and fetch some sarcoline crooner.

Milo: What risk?

Ono: The first word a human being ever said was, "property." I should know, I was there when he said it. I've bought souls for a baby's breath and I've bought souls for a ham sandwich-- the only difference was the "stuff" they thought they were getting in return. And for someone like Lynda who's so dog-shakingly desperate to get out of a contract-- that she'd send two souls who ain't been dead not seventeen minutes to bargain with me... Well, I think the plan deserves scrutiny, is all. Maybe check it for ticks before you scamper off on the songbird's behalf. Don't let her sell you out, kids. I see bad contracts signed every day.

Milo: Well what the fuck did she mean by that! I only understood like half the damn words! "Sarcoline crooner?"

Lola: Uh, I think she's saying that Lynda could stab us in the back or something... Maybe, like, trick us into switching places with her?
Milo: No, she wouldn't do that? Right?
Valac: You don't know what Lynda Landon is capable of, children. But don't lose your concentration, now--

Lola: She's just messing with us, Milo, that's what demons do, it's like breathing--
Valac: Onoskelis is no demon, child, she's a fallen Seraphim angel-- Once sat on a throne at God's feet before water was invented. So don't mistake your place. And don't lose concentration, either-- consider Lynda.

Valac: But don't lose your concentration, now--

Valac: Ono requires a replacement performance if you want her freed up for the party. And don't even daydream about returning until you do.

[Valac leaves.]

Milo: Alright! Now we just have to find some singers! And, uh, convince them to do this.

Lola: You listen to more modern day pop garbage than I do, so... maybe you should take the lead.

Milo: Yeah, makes sense. Let's find some musicalists.

[Milo and Lola can examine a display on the wall containing two guitars and a skeletal figure in a red-and-white outfit.]

Lola: "Famous for his playing-two-guitars-at-the-same-time style-- the grand Duke of Hell, Astaroth, grew to musical prominence in the late 1970's-- before retiring form the stage to become a model train conductor."

Meeting with Lynda #1 (Optional)[]

[They must go upstairs, where they can speak with Lynda Landon.]

Lola: Hey Lynda.

Lynda: Hey, what's up?

Lola: Uh, contract negotiations are in process, as they say. You wouldn't happen to know any performers that would be free tonight, would you?
Lynda: To take my place, I'm guessing? No. Most musicians have their own managers, otherwise known as brokers. They treat us like dog show poodles-- I couldn't imagine one being given up unless they got worms or something.

Lola: Uh, contract negotiations are in process, as they say. You wouldn't be planning on, like, screwing us over or anything. Right?
Lynda: What, like somehow shackling you guys to Ono in my place?
Milo: Uh, in so many words--
Lynda: She's just messing with you. Besides, she'd be getting the wrong end of the stick on that one. You guys already lost your souls.

Lola: What have you been, uh, playing, by the way?
Lynda: Oh, just a little something I've been working on. I think I'm gonna call it, "Smells Like Teen Spirit." Have I mentioned I've been dead since 1985?

Lola: How'd-- how'd you, uh, sell your soul, anyway? Like, how'd you even know what to do?
Lynda: It's not that hard. Everybody knows how to pray to God, praying to Satan just requires a microphone and a shovel. Hardest part is knowin' when he's home, really.

Lola: Huh, still damned. I was just checking.
Lynda: [light laugh] Yeah, you smell like a water treatment plant, too, honey, so... I'd reconsider my jokes.

Milo: Nothin'! See ya.

Convincing Blackhouse (Optional)[]

[By the door, Milo and Lola will pass Peyton and Berinon sitting at a table.]

Peyton: Yo yo yo I feel like we really fucked that up.

Berinon: Yo yo I know. Maybe we'll get another chance someday to really impress her.

[Milo and Lola can choose to speak with them.]

Milo: Greetings and salutations, my classic 80's hip-hop enthusiasts.

Peyton: If you wanna be our manager, we're trying to get Ono to take us on, so... No offense, but we'd rather keep trying with her.

Berinon: Yeah.

Milo: We're here to offer you another opportunity to ascend to the musical heights I know you're capable of.
Berinon: A gig?
Lola: Wanna play for Ono tonight?

Milo: You two were really... interesting. There's a certain theme to your work that really, uh-- It doesn't particularly speak to me, but--
Peyton: Thanks for the compliment, but, again, we're not interested.
Lola: Look, we came over here to ask if you wanted to play for Ono tonight.

Milo: You two were great! I love all the-- all the rhyming. It really makes it a song, you know?
Peyton: Thanks for the compliment, but, again, we're not interested.
Lola: Look, we came over here to ask if you wanted to play for Ono tonight.

Milo: Your act... don't take this the wrong way, but... you want someone to take you to a doctor, now, right?
Peyton: What do you mean?
Berinon: He's taking a piss on our song!
Peyton: Hey, you're right! Scram!
[Milo and Lola have failed in convincing Blackhouse. Skip to "Milo and Lola can also (or, if they failed to recruit Blackhouse, must, (...)]

Lola: Look, we came over here to ask if you wanted to play for Ono tonight.

Lola: It's a one-time thing, but it's real.

Berinon: Holy shi--

Peyton: Hold up, wait-- no, what is this for? Are we getting' paid?

Lola: Umm...

Milo: Uhh, yeah. Completely, you're getting paid.
Peyton: How much?
Lola: Buh...

Lot!
What's the currency down here?
I lied, you're not getting paid. Idiot. (Liquid Courage)
Forgot to ask! (Lovable Lush)
More than you deserve! (Witty Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
Lot!

Milo: Uh, a lot! Like... more than... whatever you're thinking is-- is reasonable, it's actually more.
Berinon: Mm. I don't know. "More than reasonable" doesn't sound extravagant-- And I feel like we're in a place talent-wise where we should be affording, like, weird aquariums.
Peyton: Yeah, we're gonna pass on the town fair job, fellas, thanks.
[Milo and Lola have failed in convincing Blackhouse.]

What's the currency down here?

Milo: Uh, what's the-- what's the currency down-- do you guys even have chain wallets, I'm not seeing--
Berinon: It's an Owenistic economic system, mostly-- trading, bartering... And I feel talent-wise we're in a place where we should be exchanging for, like, limousine motorcycles.
Peyton: Yeah, we're gonna pass on the town fair job, fellas, thanks.
[Milo and Lola have failed in convincing Blackhouse.]

I lied, you're not getting paid. Idiot. (Liquid Courage)

Milo: [Laughs] No, you're not getting paid! I lied you silly, silly little nincompoops.
Berinon: Great, less to declare on my 10-99, saves me a little bit of a-- of a headache--
[Milo and Lola have succeeded in convincing Blackhouse.]

Forgot to ask! (Lovable Lush)

Milo: Oh yeah, I totally forgot to ask. So... in reality, there's a 50/50 chance it's either something... or... nothing--
Peyton: Nothing?!
Berinon: Great, less to declare on my 10-99, saves me a little bit of a-- of a headache--
[Milo and Lola have succeeded in convincing Blackhouse.]

More than you deserve! (Witty Asshole)

Milo: Whatever it is, it's more than you guys deserve since, you know, nothing is more than you two deserve.
Peyton: Nothing?!
Berinon: Great, less to declare on my 10-99, saves me a little bit of a-- of a headache--
[Milo and Lola have succeeded in convincing Blackhouse.]

(Say nothing.)

Lola: You'll, uh, have to-- have to ask Ono?
Peyton: Ono would never pay us anything-- the profits flow the other way, kids. Yeah, we're gonna pass on the town fair job fellas, thanks.
[Milo and Lola have failed in convincing Blackhouse.]

No, it's to replace Lynda.
(Say nothing)
No, it's to replace Lynda.

Milo: Um, no, actually, you'd be doing it, kinda as a favor to Lynda Landon--

(Say nothing)

Lola: To be-- to be perfectly honest, no, you're not getting paid. It's to replace Lynda Landon.

Lola: But it's also a great opportunity to try out for Ono again.
Berinon: And Ono specifically requested us?
Lola: Buh...

Oh yes, definitely!
She didn't request not you?
You're hilarious! No. (Lovable Lush)
No. Of course not. (Liquid Courage)/Hell no. (Witty Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
Oh yes, definitely!

Milo: Oh yeah, definitely. She said it wouldn't be a show without, uh, Butthouse--
Lola: Blackhouse--
Milo: Blackhouse.
Berinon: Eh, I'm not really feeling wined and dined, here.
Peyton: Yeah, we're gonna pass on the town fair job, fellas, thanks.
[Milo and Lola have failed din convincing Blackhouse.]

She didn't request not you?

Milo: Well, uh, just know that she didn't specifically not request you?
Berinon: Eh, I'm not really feeling wined and dined, here.
Peyton: Yeah, we're gonna pass on the town fair job, fellas, thanks.
[Milo and Lola have failed in convincing Blackhouse.]

You're hilarious! No. (Lovable Lush)

Milo: [Laughing] Oh you jokesters, you, no, of course not. She would never. No.
Berinon: Great. It's lame to be invited, you gotta crash things or else no one will remember.
[Milo and Lola have succeeded in convincing Blackhouse.]

No. Of course not. (Liquid Courage)/Hell no. (Witty Asshole)

Milo: [Laughs] No no no, Hell no. No. She has absolutely no idea you're coming.
Berinon: Great. It's lame to be invited, you gotta crash things or else no one will remember.
[Milo and Lola have succeeded in convincing Blackhouse.]

(Say nothing.)

Lola: She, uh, didn't.
Berinon: Eh, I'm not really feeling wined and dined, here.
Peyton: Yeah, we're gonna pass on the town fair job, fellas, thanks.
[Milo and Lola have failed in convincing Blackhouse.]

Milo: [Laughing] No, no no no no, never, of course not, absolutely not, no, you are not getting paid. No. No, no.
Berinon: Great, less to declare on my 10-99, saves me a little bit of a-- of a headache--
[Milo and Lola have succeeded in convincing Blackhouse.]

Milo: Uh, what the fuck else are you gonna do tonight? Are you joking? You remember-- we saw your act.
Berinon: We have plans, tonight.
Peyton: Do we?
Berinon: I thought we-- oh yeah, the Harpers cancelled dinner, didn't they.
Peyton: Shit, well, okay. I guess we don't have plans.
[Milo and Lola have succeeded in convincing Blackhouse.]

Milo: Great! Ono just wants to, uh, test drive it first, so we'll meet you downstairs when we're ready.
Berinon: Meet you down there. Speaking of headache, do you-- Peyton, do you have any more of those pills?

Lola: Shit. They're not gonna do it.
Milo: Yeah... we need to find some other sucker-- I mean, you know, uh, loser.

Convincing the Chanters (Optional)[]

[Milo and Lola can also (or, if they failed to recruit Blackhouse, must) try to coerce the chanters outside.]

Longinus: Well, if it isn't our friends.
Hadrian: Come to rub salt in the wound?
Longinus: Or do you want to kick poor Longinus into the river next?
Hadrian: Away with you!

Want a gig?
We came to apologize...
(Say nothing.)
Want a gig?

Milo: I know we kinda screwed you guys over but would you at all be interested in playing a show?

We came to apologize...

Milo: We came to apologize. We feel terribly about Lola kicking that thing you wanted into that river of death.
Lola: Yeah, to make up for it, we booked you a show! Isn't that exciting!

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Look, I'm-- I'm sorry I punted your stupid tuner, alright? But we're gonna make it up for you.^[9] We booked you a show! Isn't that exciting?

Hadrian: I-- we're flattered--
Longinus: The answer's no.

(Gave the tuner back)
(Ignored the chanters)
(Gave the tuner back)

Hadrian: Oh look, it's our new friends! The tuner picker uppers.
Longinus: Hail and well met.

(Ignored the chanters)

Hadrian: Oh hello, are you-- wait, we've already seen you once before, haven't we?
Longinus: Well hello again, in any case.
Althalos: Hail and well met! Would you like to hear a song?

Althalos: We've been practicing.
Longinus: A lot. Some would say too much.
Hadrian: It's never too much.

You sound great!
Want to play a show?
(Say nothing.)
You sound great!

Milo: Sounding wonderful as ever I see.
Longinus: Well you don't have to instantly lie to our faces.
Hadrian: He wasn't lying! They are our friends and they love and support us as glorious patrons of the arts!
Lola: Uh, speaking of that, would you guys be interested in playing a show?

Want to play a show?

Milo: Hope you've been well-- small talk about your sister and her baby, whatever-- Do you guys, by chance, want to play a show?

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Do you guys have any interest in playing a little concert?

Althalos: A show? What show? Would we get paid? Are you getting paid?
Lola: Paid. No, we're not getting paid, and if you wanted to cut a salary, you shouldn't have become fuckin' liturgists.
Althalos: Hey, I just want to know what the twist is before I sit through the movie.

Hadrian: Don't be rude, Longinus. Let's hear them out.

Longinus: I don't want to hear them out. You know what they're going to say--

Althalos: I know what they're going to say.

Longinus: Even Althalos knows what they're going to say.

Milo: Look, if you do it, it'll definitely get you out of your... current situation. At least temporarily...
Althalos: This is... a fairly good point. I never knew I would miss standing up so much.
Longinus: The answer is no, Longinus.

Milo: Hey, this might not mean much to you, but this would really, really help us out. I mean, you're Gregorian chanters, right? Catholic? It'd be a good deed...
Longinus: Well, obviously we weren't good Catholics if we're in Hell.

Lola: Please? Pretty please? Pretty, pretty please with sugar on top? It'll help you out! You must be getting tired of singing to bored tourists.

Hadrian: To be perfectly honest, we could use the exposure.

Althalos: Foot traffic's slowed down ever since they moved the taco hut.

Longinus: I guess you're right.

Hadrian: *singing a tone*

Althalos: *singing a tone*

Longinus: *singing a tone*

Milo: Uh, maybe practice a little bit more before the shoe, cause... The sounds coming out of your mouth sounds like a funeral that died and went to Hell where it exists with us now.
Lola: Took the words right out of my mouth.
Hadrian: Clearly you don't like East Coast Chanting, but to each their own.

Milo: Yep, that is what you guys sound like! Thanks for the refresher.

Lola: We'll meet you in the basement of the Hurdy Gurdy when we're ready. It's Ono's show, and she wants to see a sampling first.

Longinus: No worries. We'll, uh, manage.

Meeting with Lynda #2 (Optional)[]

[After picking a band, Milo and Lola can speak with Lynda again.]

Lola: Hiya, Lynda.

Lynda: Hey.

Lola: Hey, we, uh... we got good news. We found you a band!
Lynda: Really? What kind of music? Are they good?
Lola: It's... a band of... musical performers, let's just focus on that.
Lynda: ...okay! Well, you already got father than I thought you would. I appreciate it-- you know, whatever happens from here.

Lola: Hey-- hey, just out of curiousity, did anyone else answer the Bicker post before us?
Lynda: Eh, one guy swung by about an hour before you. Claimed he played electric bagpipes-- could charm Ono into letting me go.
Milo: What happened?
Lynda: Haven't seen him since.

Lola: Do you miss anyone on Earth? Anyone you, um, cared about?
Lynda: [scoffs] You don't really make an eternally binding soul contract with a demon-- unless you spent your last friend winning a two day game of Monopoly, kid.

Lola: Hey, do you have a Personal Demon by chance? I was just wondering if you had any advice.
Lynda: Oh, yeah. Sister Wendy Snaketail, I think, tonight. Uses a lot of fog machines... likes to go to the mother-daughter well a lot... you know, feeling dismissed, like "you're their only outlet," etc. They're hard to ignore, but... get easier to make fun of with time.

Lola: Hey, what's your torture like? Is it listening to really bad music that's so bad like it physically hurts cause I just lost a bet.
Lynda: I have to bare knuckle box a stone version of my sixteen-year old self every day.
Milo: Why?
Lynda: I don't fuckin' know, man. They give you a pamphlet that explains the poetic irony but I threw mine out with the "just moved in" coupons.

Milo: Just checking in! See you later.

Performing for Onoskelis[]

[Afterwards, Milo and Lola must go downstairs and check back with Ono.]

Ono: Uh, book him for the eighth. No, the seventh.

Valac: Of August? It's the dry period.

Ono: Not the month, the-- the eighth circle.

Valac: Seventh--

Ono: Seventh circle.

Valac: I keep saying we should switch to a day calendar, the system you have is--

Ono: And tell him the next time he comes alley-catting around, yowling for higher percentage-- that I will personally-- well not personally, but I will... you know, direct someone to personally rip his intestines out. And then I'll-- this part I'll do, I'll knit them into something... uh, something like a uh... Look, what would you not want your intestines knit into.

Valac: Um, like a-- a throw blanket? Like an ugly throw blanket--

Ono: Okay, well not that, but something like that...

[Milo and Lola must speak to Ono and Valac.]

Milo: We, uh, we found... people to, uh, to play tonight.

Ono: Really?

Lola: Yeah.

Valac: Really?

Lola: Uh... Blackhouse?
[Peyton and Berinon walk onstage.]
Peyton: Yo yo yo, it's Blackhouse in the house!
Valac: Oh Lord, not again.
Peyton: Thanks for the encore, yo yo!
Berinon: We won't let you diggity diggity down!

It was short notice!
They'll be fine!
They're all we could get! (Drunk)
It was short notice!

Milo: It was short notice! You're lucky we found two warm bodies out there.
Berinon: Well... two bodies.

They'll be fine!

Milo: Oh, c'mon, they'll be fine. They had their practice runs and now they're ready for the big show, right guys?
Peyton: Yo yo yo--
Lola: Yeah, you don't have to answer that, they're ready-- we're ready.

They're all we could get! (Drunk)

Milo: Hey, they were all we could get out there! Musical geniuses don't really grow on-- actually, do you guys even have trees down here?

Lola: Uh... The--the chanters outside?
[Valac snaps his fingers, and Longinus and Hadrian appear onstage.]
Longinus: Huzzah!
Hadrian: Huzzah!
[Valac snaps again, and Althalos appears beside them.]
Athalos: Huzzah! Wait, we're still in the fucking stocks!?
Valac: You picked these guys? They don't exactly seem performance ready.
Hadrian: Well, it would really help if we could move our necks.
Longinus: Just a little...

It was short notice!
They'll be fine!
They're all we could get! (Drunk)
It was short notice!

Milo: It was short notice! You're lucky we found two warm bodies out there.
Longinus: Well "warm" might be stretching it...

They'll be fine!

Milo: Oh, c'mon, they'll be fine. We heard them outside. They can... kind of carry a tune?
Hadrian: "Kind of?" We can carry a tune and move your piano for you at the same time, kid.

They're all we could get! (Drunk)

Milo: Hey, they were all we could get out there! Musical geniuses don't really grow on-- actually, do you guys even have trees down here?

Ono: Yeah, I don't know about this. Maybe with some taxi dancers-- I mean, this-- it needs some elasticity to it--

Valac: Dancers? This isn't Studio Fifty Four, I wish it was Studio Fifty Four--

Ono: If you can't sing, Valac, you dance-- If you can't dance you set things on fire... that's the rule of rock and roll--

Ono: And no one is going to watch obscenity peddlers "rap" like their brains are on strike--

Ono: And no one is going to watch monastic hermits moan like castrated jockeys--

Ono: --unless things are humping each other in the background while they do it. So. Milo and Lola. Wanna stand in for me?

[Ono snaps her fingers, and Milo and Lola teleport onto the stage.]

Milo: Wait-- what-- what's happening right now?
Ono: You are going to dance while your chosen "arteests" perform.
Lola: But--

Milo: No way, not us! This-- we can't-- we can't dance, I can barely walk! I trip over my mailbox every morning.
Ono: Just breathe, son. No one ever danced well thinking about all the times they ever failed at dancing.

Milo: Seriously? Awesome!

Milo: Hey, if you were betting on horses, you just put your house on Secretariat.
Ono: Well, I'll cross my fingers you don't have a hoof disease.

Milo: Wait, we were told to just get you singers. Now you want us to dance while they do it-- We need to renegotiate the terms of the deal here.
Ono: No.
Milo: Okay.

Ono: Just shadow Valac, he'll show you what to do. I just need to see it in a group, you know.

Valac: Of course you couldn't have asked me to do this when I was still jogging...

Ono: Valac here's been wanting to dance on the Buddy Deane show since he was in pigtails. He choreographs most of the numbers that come through here.

Valac: Buddy Dean couldn't handle me, honey. You two. It'll be easy. Just follow the moves as I go along. And don't deviate. I didn't study La Sonnambula in college for nothing.

Milo: Uh, but what--what if we suck? Would you, uh, not let them perform?
Valac: Depends on how much suckage we're talking about...

Milo: Um, I don't think we're really the right people for this--
No one would ever confuse you for that, but you're the only ones standing here, so.

Milo: Hey, alright! I've been looking for an excuse to show off my, uh, my moves, you know?
Valac: Yes. Your moves.

Lola: It'll be alright, Milo, just like the-- the talent show we talked about? You in sixth grade?

Milo: Oh you mean the one you couldn't even say anything about because you were so embarassed by the memory of it?

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern, and she appears before them.]

Wormhorn: Wait wait wait wait don't start the show without me! I always love live dancing! Are you guys gonna show bush or is it just tits up?

Lola: Oh my God, will you fuck off, Wormhorn?! We don't need this shit right now!

Wormhorn: Are you sure you wanna do this? Lola's right, I mean-- Milo, do you really remember the sixth grade talent show? That didn't turn out so well, did it? I mean, let's be honest. Lil' Chad Leckler beat you up so bad you had to take off school!

Lola: Wait, Milo, you said you got the flu.

Wormhorn: Honestly he was throwing up so much it's not that big of a lie.

Milo: Just-- just shut up, Wormhorn! I was eleven! I've kissed like three people since then!
Lola: Just shut it out, Milo, you've got this.
[Milo will dance against Valac.]

Milo: Lola... I'm sorry. Wormhorn's right, I can't do this. You should take the lead, here. I'll just, uh, tap my foot behind you...
Lola: Wait, don't listen to it, Milo, it's not--
[Lola will dance against Valac.]

Milo: Well Lola's gonna dance her fucking face off up here, so who cares what happened to me when I was a kid?!
Lola: Wait, don't listen to it, Milo, it's not--
[Lola will dance against Valac.]

Milo: Well watch me shine now, mother fucker. I watch old MTV Spring Break videos all the time.
[Milo will dance against Valac.]

Milo: Well I'm sure I deserved it! I kept getting my face in the way of his fists.
Lola: Milo...
[Milo will dance against Valac.]

Lola: Milo...
[Milo will dance against Valac.]

Valac: It's simple. Just move like I move.

Ono: Whatever, guys, c'mon, my bones are fallin' asleep here. Let's, uh, get this show on the freeway.

Valac: Play the music!

[The chanters begin chanting over the music as the player dances.]

[Peyton and Berinon begin rapping as the player dances.]

Berinon: Yo yo yo yoyoyo--yoyoyo-- turn it up, turn it up, yeah--
Peyton: Yeah, turn up the bass a little. Yeah.
Berinon: Yeah, I'm gonna come in in-- just a sec.
Berinon: Uh, uh, uh, that's the shit.
Peyton: Yeah, turn up-- turn it down, actually, turn down the bass a little--
Peyton: There we go, yeah.
Berinon: Okay, here it-- wait, just-- okay, got-- get into the groove, here--
Berinon: Gotta find my place, okay, yeah, there it is.
Peyton: Wait wait yo yo, I gots the first verse--
Berinon: Okay, you gots the first verse--
Peyton: Gimme a little-- a little lick here, here it is--
Peyton: Yeah, here it comes-- uh, uh, yo yo yo--
Peyton: Turn up the vocals a little bit, turn up the vocals--
Peyton: I can't hear myself-- okay, that's-- that's good, yeah, uh.
Berinon: Keep it rollin', keep it rollin'.
Peyton: Yeah, keep it-- turn down the vocals now, they're--
Peyton: It's too loud, I can't hear myself think over hearing myself talk.
Berinon: Turn the fuckin' vocals down!
Peyton: Yeah, there it is-- uh, uh, yo yoyoyo yo yo...
Peyton: Crank it, crank it, yeah, that's it.
Peyton: Why don't-- you should take the first verse--
Berinon: Okay, I gots the first verse, now, yeah, let's do it--
Berinon: Uh, uh, uh, yeah, yo yo, kick it up, kick it up.
Berinon: There it is, yeah.
Berinon: My name is-- [gets cut off] oh the track's over? Okay, cool.

Wormhorn: [booing]
Wormhorn: You suck!
Wormhorn: Don't be good, be bad, it's more fun for me!
Wormhorn: Okay, whatever.
Wormhorn: You think you're doing well but you're, like, just not!
Wormhorn: Was that right? It was right? Ugh, okay.
Wormhorn: This is boring, c'mon, make it interesting.

Wormhorn: [laughing] Oh God.
Wormhorn: You're worse than I thought you'd be!
Wormhorn: You're probably regretting agreeing to this, right?
Wormhorn: Ugh, this is-- it's hard to watch.
Wormhorn: Second hand embarrassment is a serious thing, guys, I might have to leave soon.
Wormhorn: Oof, rough.
Wormhorn: [chuckling] Man, this is awful.

Wormhorn: [laughing] That was terrible!
Valac: Yeah, that didn't go too well. The dancing needs a little more fine tuning, I think.
Wormhorn: Yeah, they're done. I mean look at them! They were done when they walked into the room.
Milo: Rewind it. Let's go again.
Valac: Okay, they're doing it again. Start up the music!

Valac: Want to try it again?

Valac: Wanna try again or quit while you're... behind.
Milo: Let's just do it again. C'mon.

Milo: I think we're--
Valac: Okay, they're doing it again. Start up the music!

[Eventually, Milo or Lola will win the competition.]

Lola: We did it!

Milo: Yeah!

Valac: *out of breath* Woof, I knew I shouldn't have stopped playing basketball at the Y...

Ono: Very nice, I can-- I can see it, I really can, with professionals it'll really distract from the horrifying music.

Peyton: Yo yo yo, thank you, dog.
Valac: She wasn't talking about you.
Berinon: Oh... Well, Miss Ono, what-- what did you think?
[Ono snaps her fingers and a portal opens up beneath Peyton and Berinon, causing them to fall through.]
Peyton: *screams in agony*
Berinon: *screams in agony*

Althalos: Thanks.
Valac: She wasn't talking about you.
Longinus: So, Miss Ono, what did you think?^[10]
[Ono snaps her fingers and a portal opens up beneath the chanters, causing them to fall through.]
Longinus: *screams in agony*
Hadrian: *screams in agony*
Althalos: *screams in agony*

Ono: Better than I expected.

Wormhorn: What? That's it? They sucked! God-- whatever.

[Wormhorn disappears.]

Valac: Now that that bit of unpleasantness is in our rear view...

Ono: I'll let you unfurl the banners, tell Lynda she's free for the evening.

Lola: Great. Awesome, thank you.

Ono: Valac will riddle out the details-- I imagine you'll be going to Morningstar's now.

Lola: Uh, Satan's? Yeah.

Ono: Ah yes, to try to outdrink him. Get back home. Do you think you'll be able to do it? The two of you.

Milo: Even if I had... uh, misgivings, we have to try. It's the only way out we've heard of, uh, so far.

Milo: Uh, yeah? Maybe? I mean, I didn't know I could ride a donkey until one threw me off that gorge.

Ono: Lucifer was the first rock star, you know-- before Lizst, before Paganini-- before that caveman that played a dinosaur's ribcage like a xylophone... It was him. And notoriety makes you... forget things. Responsibilities to yourself and others. And look, he has bigger things to worry about tonight than a drinking contest.

Milo: ...responsibilities like what?

Milo: Yeah, no, sorry, Ono, but we can't really be expected to care about Lucifer's personal problems, whatever they may be.

Ono: Just... every human creature carries microscopic mites-- mites that live full, hectic, provocative lives. They fall in love, have children, die, tragically-- and I say this not to make you itch-- I say this so that when you see rock stars and movie stars, people with jets... when you meet Satan... Remember that you are all planets... responsible for a billion souls. And so is he. And what else could be more important than that.

[Ono stands up.]

Ono: Say hi to Lynda for me.

[Ono teleports away.]

Valac: We'll be in touch.

[Valac teleports away.]

Milo: I'm, uh, weirdly glad we did that? It was just... I don't know. It felt good.

I'm glad, Milo.
Don't get a big head.
I'm glad, Milo.

Lola: Well... I'm glad. For you.

Don't get a big head.

Lola: Don't, like, get too bloated over this. You shuffled around a bit and we didn't get our feet torn off, that's all that happened.
Milo: Uh, yeah... I guess.

Milo: Thanks for, uh, being the, uh, the lead back there. I just... you know. I really should just stay in my lane.

You can do this, Milo.
It's fine, Milo.
You can do this, Milo.

Lola: You can do this stuff, Milo, alright, the sixth grade was a long time ago. You're cooler than you were. No matter what that librarian told you.

It's fine, Milo.

Lola: It's fine Milo. Just... it's just fine.

Milo: Now let's give Lynda the good news and get her damn invite.

[Milo and Lola must go back upstairs and speak with Lynda.]

Lynda: Well, if it isn't my favorite fans again. Bicker's blowing up about the reunion. Apparently they all just arrived. It's funny, I was thinking maybe there'd be a chance Hedgie Jane Myers would end up, you know, north. She was running some fuckin' "save the giraffes" PSA campaign last I saw. Anyways, how'd the search for a lasts minute understudy go? Seeing as how this is Hell... It probably didn't go so well. See, I can't stop.

Milo: We got you an-- an awesome replacement band, really, it's these--

Milo: We got you, like, literally the worst thing-- it's-- they're just horrible.

(Chose Blackhouse)
(Chose the chanters)
(Chose Blackhouse)

Lola: We found you a replacement act. They're rappers. Don't ask.

(Chose the chanters)

Lola: We found you a replacement act. They're monks. Don't ask.

(Said something)

(Chose Blackhouse)
(Chose the chanters)
(Chose Blackhouse)

Milo: They're these, uh, rappers? They-- they really like having sex with--
Lola: It doesn't matter what they're into. It just matters that they'll be on that stage for you tonight.

(Chose the chanters)

Milo: These, uh, monks? They chant. And... they can't move, either. So... yeah.
Lynda: Monks?
Lola: Well we don't know that exactly, but... we do know they will be singing for you tonight.

Lola: You're off the hook.

Lynda: Huh. I'm... surprised. And it's hard to surprise someone who gets leeches put in her coffee every morning. C'mon, walk me to the cab stand.

[Lynda gets up, and they start walking towards the exit.]

Lynda: I have to say... I thought this was gonna be like baking cookies-- You plan on making these perfect lil' Christmas trees and they come out looking like somebody's father issues. But you guys really pulled it off. And, uh, I'm a little embarrassed to say-- My elbows are sweating at the thought of meeting my old bandmates. Those bastards have gone on so long without me... I'm not sure they'll remember this damned old woman.

Milo: Are you-- are you kidding, they'll love to see you! It's been years!
Lynda: I don't really know about that.

Milo: Well... I mean, they did sound like jerks. Maybe set expectations to 'work reunion,' or even 'divorce counseling.'

Lola: Lynda... I'm sure they'd really enjoy seeing you after all this time.

Lynda: It's just we were like best friends. You know? And they did kinda screw me over, but... I kinda screwed them, too.

Lola: By, uh, hogging the attention?

Lynda: Well that and embezzling album profits. But, be that as it may... I just hope we can remember why we became friends in the first place.

[Lynda opens the door and heads outside, and Milo and Lola must choose to follow her.]

Lynda: The last time I saw Bobby Francis, we got in a fight over what to name our tour van's stuffed monkey mascot. I told him, 'His name is Rico... or I'll see you in Hell.'

Milo: You think he'll remember?

Lynda: Milo, Bobby couldn't remember his daughter's name while we were on tour-- no, he will not remember. Friendships that long are like a marriage-- sometimes you just wanna boil a person's face off and shoot the EMT's as they come, but... Dying alone is just too scary to even entertain the alternative.

Lola: Everyone dies alone. Even if you have eighteen grandkids. You can't take 'em with you.

Lola: Well we can't remember dying. So. I guess we'll take your word for it.
Lynda: Whether you remember isn't the important part.

Lynda: You're not dead until there's nobody left that remembers you. That's why everybody wants to be famous.

[They walk in silence for a few moments.]

Lola: Oh, Milo wanted to be famous.

Milo: No I didn't. Why would you say that?

Lola: Uh, you know what-- I don't know. It just popped into my head.

Lynda: Eh, don't worry about it. There's a demonic saying-- "The longer in Hell, the more you-are, you-are." It means... Eh, who gives a fuck what it means. Let's just get out of here.

[They will eventually arrive at the dock, where Lynda whistles before a taxi drives up.]

Lynda: Hey, uh... thanks a lot for this. Just give the door gal my name. See you in there-- rock and roll.

[Lynda gets into her taxi.]

Milo: Awesome.

Lola: Awesome.

Milo: We're awesome--

Lola: We are awesome, yeah, okay-- So... we should just go to Satan's, then, right? Like, 'Hey, what's up. Let's just, uhh, let's... drink you... down?'

Milo: Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, okay, yeah, let's just-- like a band-aid.

Lola: Quick and easy. Right off.

Milo: Right off.

[Milo must call for a taxi.]

Wormhorn's First Review[]

[Wormhorn appears before them.]

Wormhorn: Wait! Before you go, it's time for your review!

Milo: What--

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern as her theme plays.]

Lola: [yelp in fear from falling]

Milo: [yelp in fear from falling]

Wormhorn: Or psychological assessment, or... Bumblefeed Personality Quiz, you know... Whatever you want to call it.

Wormhorn: First of all... You intentionally chose to track somebody down for an unknown and vague punishment... instead of genuinely helping a poor soul like Lynda. Who is, needless to say, now permanently affixed to an eternal misery due to your direct actions. Either you thought this sounded more fun or Milo likes to just blindly follow Lola around. Which... either way. I mean, I always liked Witchfinder General, too, so.

We wanted to help Fela!
My plan worked out!
(Say nothing.)
We wanted to help Fela!

Lola: Hey, it wasn't the... punishment, okay? I-- we wanted to help somebody out.
Milo: Fela--
Lola: Yeah, Fela. Lynda was just like "Buy me a drink--"

My plan worked out!

Lola: Hey, dicksalt, the plan worked out. We're--we're going to Satan's party.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Lynda--- I mean, yeah, I wanted to do that one, but to Lola's credit, it-- it really wasn't believable, I mean, "Just buy me a drink--"

Wormhorn: Okay, so you heeded the call of justice, but was justice served?

(Chose Greg)
(Chose Eliza)
(Chose Pete)
(Chose Greg)

Wormhorn: It was! Well, sort of. You picked Greg, who was the hereafter infiltrator. Of course now he'll never see his family, friends, or help solve the world's energy crisis. I hope it was worth the free house party passes. If you get back, I'd start rationing your clean water if I were you.

He did the crime, okay?
Bullshit, give me a break.
(Say nothing.)
He did the crime, okay?

Lola: Hey, Greg did the crime, okay, and if you can't do the time--
Milo: Don't drink the slime.
Lola: What, no, that isn't--

Bullshit, give me a break.

Lola: Agh, bullshit, Wormhorn, that guy couldn't solve the Daily fuckin' Jumble let alone a--

(Say nothing.)

Milo: That--that guy?

(Chose Eliza)

Wormhorn: It wasn't! You chose Eliza, who did nothing untoward except murder her three ugly children. Which animals do every damn day-- And you don't hear any animals complain, do you? I'm sure you're proud of yourselves.

That evil creep deserved it!
Who cares who did it!
(Say nothing.)
That evil creep deserved it!

Lola: Oh give me a break, Wormhorn, you're telling me that amoral, evil psycho didn't completely deserve it? What's the harm in getting someone a million times worse punished?
Wormhorn: I guess we'll find out later!

Who cares who did it!

Lola: Oh Christ on a mountain top, who cares who's sneaking into the worst place in existence?! What could it possibly matter!?
Wormhorn: I guess we'll find out later!

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Well... I was.

(Chose Pete)

Wormhorn: It wasn't! You chose Peter, who didn't do a damn thing but try to drive a bus with his penis. Which is a hilarious joke that deserves to be followed-through on. Congratulations. I'm sure you're proud of yourselves.

That guy deserved it.
Who cares who did it!
(Say nothing.)
That guy deserved it.

Lola: Eh, that guy deserved it. I mean, he got all those people killed, isn't that-- Isn't that enough?
Wormhorn: I guess we'll find out later!

Who cares who did it!

Lola: Oh Christ on a mountain top, who cares who's sneaking into the worst place in existence?! What could it possibly matter!?
Wormhorn: I guess we'll find out later!

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Well... I was.

Wormhorn: First of all... You intentionally chose to be a drink mule for somebody named Lynda of all things... instead of aiding that poor little demon who needed help apprehending a dangerous homo sapien. Either you though this sounded more fun or Lola likes just blindly following Milo around. Which, either way. I mean, getting a vodka-soda for someone does sound simpler.

Lynda seemed easier, okay?
My plan worked out!
(Say nothing.)
Lynda seemed easier, okay?

Milo: Hey, so Lynda seemed easier, okay, what's the problem with that? We're not down here to-- to help demons catch people. What is this, an anime from the 80's?

My plan worked out!

Milo: Hey, bugnut, the plan worked out-- we're-- we're going to Satan's party.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: The demon guy-- yeah, I wanted to do that one, but-- but to Milo's credit... Getting somebody a drink does sound easier. And it worked. So.

Wormhorn: Alright alright alright, so you needed to find a band to fill Lynda's slot. Which saps did you enlist? Oh wait, I was there, so I already know. It was--

(Chose Blackhouse)
(Chose the chanters)
(Chose Blackhouse)

Wormhorn: Blackhouse! Why the fuck did you pick these guys? You know the instant Ono sobers up she's gonna realize you traded three day old coffee for curdled rat milk. I mean, have you heard their songs? Or is rubbing muskrats on your junk something that interests you?

(Chose the chanters)

Wormhorn: The Chanters! Why the fuck did you pick these guys? You know the instant Ono sobers up she's gonna realize you traded three day old coffee for curdled rat milk. I mean, have you heard their singing? I don't know if you have a hearing disability, but... they're not good!

Who cares who we picked!
Hey, she made the deal.
(Say nothing.)
Who cares who we picked!

Milo: Oh, who the Hell cares what band we picked? They were the human equivalent of a step-stool. We needed them for a greater purpose.
Lola: You could have-- you could have said higher purpose, for the step-stool connection--
Milo: Oh yeah, I could--

Hey, she made the deal.

Milo: Hey, Ono made the deal herself, okay? And I am not gonna feel sorry that we swindled the-- the demon that invented swindling or whatever.
Wormhorn: I guess we'll see if you can maintain your apathy when she circles the wagon back for a renegotiation...

(Say nothing.)

Lola: They're terrible, Wormhorn, who cares, what's the point.
Wormhorn: What's the point, what's the point-- Okay, let's paint it this way-- you just sold a car with no engine to someone who can make your deaths miserable. I guess we'll see if you can maintain your apathy when she circles the wagon back for a renegotiation...

Wormhorn: Okay, factoid time! I thought you might want to know what's going on in the land of the living! So, while you were busy accomplishing this very important mission-- instead of, you know, getting your ass off the fucking couch and contributing to society in any meaningful way--

Wormhorn: A million pounds of chicken nuggets were consumed! Which means half a million pounds of dog food, since... well, that's what chicken nuggets are, for the most part.
Milo: Ugh. Really?

Wormhorn: Seven hundred men in Florida masturbated in libraries in full view of the public!
Milo: Ugh. Really?

Wormhorn: The universe expanded one more day! That means there's roughly only one trillion days left for anything to exist or matter at all!
Lola: Okay--

Wormhorn: Susan Lucille Charlesworth was born in Baker City, Oregon! Due to a host of psychological impairments-- she will eventually burn her brother's house down, killing his family of four, and get away with it, too. Aw.
Milo: Jesus.

Wormhorn: One Vlado Gvojic lost his hand in a factory farm accident in Lenawee County, Michigan. Due to lax regulations, his meat will be served along with the other ninety-three thousand cows slaughtered today!
Milo: Ugh. Really?

Wormhorn: Nine thousand people died of literal loneliness. It can happen, kids! Get on those fuck apps!

Wormhorn: Three thousand, eight hundred, and fifty six people died! In their entire lives, only forty seven non-consecutive hours of true happiness was felt among them. How sad.

Wormhorn: One Bryan Washington died due to a roller coaster malfunction that ejected him from his seat. That happens roughly four times a year! Think twice before getting that fast pass, kids!

Wormhorn: Currently three percent of fathers are lying about being one. Do you really know who your dad is? Who's to say!

Wormhorn: One-hundred and thirty six murders were committed that will never be solved! Twenty eight of these will cause their assigned detectives to verbally abuse their spouses tonight.

Lola: Wormhorn--

Wormhorn: And of course-- Oh, wait, sorry-- these are out of order--

Lola: WORMHORN!

Wormhorn: You lost the Drink Off, you giant-ass dork! Who the hell can't stack glasses!

(TBC)

Wormhorn: Lola won that dancing thing on her first try, you giant-ass dork! Who the Hell is good at this stupid shit?! Get a life!

Wormhorn: Milo won that dancing thing on the first try, you giant-ass dork! Who the Hell is good at this stupid shit?! Get a life!

Wormhorn: [laughs wildly]

(Chose Lynda)
(Chose Fela)
(Chose Lynda)

Milo: Wormhorn, just, why the Hell are you doing this, huh?
Wormhorn: Why am I... it's my job, Milo.

(Chose Fela)

Lola: Wormhorn, just--ugh-- why the fuck are you doing this, huh?
Wormhorn: Why am I... it's my job, Lola.

Wormhorn: It's what I was created to do-- sired by your mom using pspilocybin mushrooms when she was pregnant!

(Chose Lynda)
(Chose Fela)
(Chose Lynda)

Milo: Get us out of here, Wormhorn! We need to get on with our night before we're stuck here forever!

(Chose Fela)

Lola: Get us the Hell out of here, Wormhorn! We need to get on with our night before it's over!

(Chose Lynda)
(Chose Fela)
(Chose Lynda)

Lola: Wormhorn, can we just, like, go. Please.

(Chose Fela)

Milo: Wormhorn, can we-- can we just go, now, please?

Wormhorn: So... ugh, fine, whatever. I'll text you-- I'll talk to you later.

Sam: Someone order a ferry? How'd it go with Fela?
Lola: Uh... fine. I guess. We got the invite... so... yay.

Sam: Hey, someone order a ferry? How'd it go with Ms. Landon?
Milo: Uh... fine. I guess. We got the invite... so... yay.

Sam: Why the long face? Personal demon dragging you down? Listen, just remember... those things are like... car sickness. And sometimes you just need to deal with it to get to the mall, you know? Just keep your eyes on the horizon and it'll go away on its own.

Sam: Anyway, I saw that janitor or whatever post on Bicker. He gave you his invite, didn't he?
Milo: Yep! We got the invite! We can go to Satan's party without standing in line for a million years. How proud of us are you right now?
Sam: Um, not proud at all. I barely know you and care even less. But wanna head to Welkin Way, see about that party?

Sam: Anyways, did you get the invitation?
Lola: We did, actually.
Sam: Get the fuck out of here. A whole VIP, cut-the-entire-line invitation for an already free drink? What did she really want?

Long story.
We had to cover for her.
(Say nothing.)
Long story.

Lola: Honestly, Sam, it's a long story. Long being relative to my patience for recaps.
Sam: Hey, I don't need to hear your fuckin' story, Lola, you're twenty-two years old. A 'good story' to you ends in like a-- a golf cart getting stolen. Who cares.

We had to cover for her.

Lola: We had to, uh, find a band to play her timeslot.
Sam: What band--
Milo: Don't... even... worry about it.

(Chose Blackhouse)
(Chose the chanters)
(Chose Blackhouse)

Sam: It wasn't two deranged rappers, was it?

(Chose the chanters)

Sam: It wasn't three ill begotten chanters, was it?

Milo: You're psychic-- she's psychic--
Sam: It's all over Bicker.
Milo: Oh cool!

(Say nothing.)

Milo: We got the invite, that's the important thing. So.
Sam: Hey, I don't need to hear your fuckin' story, Milo, you're twenty-two years old. A good story to you ends in a-- a golf cart getting stolen. Who cares.

Sam: Anyways, I imagine you'll be wanting to go to Satan's, now, right? Finish the game--I mean--whatever.

[Milo and Lola must choose to go to Welkin Way from their map.]

Sam: Welkin Way, let's do it.
[They get into the boat before driving off.]

[They get into the boat.]
Sam: Welkin Way. Alright, your request is my, uh, my-- my thing that you do when requested of something. Let's go.
[Sam drives them off.]

Drive to Welkin Way[]

Sam: "Every man will have his favorite day, but few will know about them." This will-- this should be one of your favorite days, I'd think-- A uh, camel hair better at least than Bottomless Fries Friday. A VIP Invitation to Satan's House Party, that's uh-- You guys are doing-- you're doing well-- you're doing good. I don't have any poppers or noise makers... So hopefully the ride and my genuine amazement will suffice.

Milo: Hey, I mean, we couldn't have done it without your help, Sam. You were the steed to our... to our gallant knights.
Sam: Yeah, and uh... word of advice... if you make it back topside... Maybe don't talk like that at your first job interviews.

Milo: To be honest... I'm even sort of surprised we're actually doing this. I mean, we got the invites, we're gonna be V.I. God Damn P's at Lucifer's House Party!
Sam: Yeah, something to put on your job applications if you make it back up topside.

Lola: Well I can't really say "I told you so," cause we didn't but... told you so!
Sam: Man, do I feel bad for whatever grocery store middle manager you'll be reporting to if you make it back topside.

Lola: Oh yeah, when we get back we'll be, like, adults.

Sam: Oh, a little nervous about rolling over from Miss and Mr. to Ma'am and Sir? And, uh, depending on your income level, either having to read train schedules or caring about the estate tax?

Lola: No, it's-- It's not-- it's not leaving school so much as Milo and I have known each other forever...

Milo: Yeah, like genuinely forever. We got paired up in pre-school cause we were the last picked in a buddy system.

Lola: And while Milo's staying in town to help his Mom in her magic shop.

Milo: Lola's moving across the country to live with her dad.

Sam: Sounds like you guys are just.. erupting with excitement over all the new opportunities afforded by your continued cellular reproduction.

Lola: Yes, definitely, absolutely.
Milo: Absolutely, without a doubt.

Sam: Cool.

Sam: So, completely switching topics... Satan's party, huh? Very exciting. Top shelf. Roman Colosseum, Yang Zhu on opium, mother-don't-look-at-these-pictures stuff. But away the ouija boards and voodoo dolls, kids-- Cause anyone that'd be answering is too busy getting their nipples twisted.

Milo: How about another dollop of helpful advice-- this time actually solicited.
Sam: Milo, Christ, you don't need advice for how to party. You sound like Sant Surdas. "Oh, but if I can't see, will anyone talk to me?" Just use your hands and feel around until you get the vodka!
Lola: Thanks. That's uh... helpful.
Sam: Happy to be of service.

Milo: Why don't you take a break and join us?
Sam: I'm not waitin' in that line.
Lola: Well, if we find an extra invite, we'll just, uh--
Sam: I'm not exactly the "partying" type, kids. I drink alone, or with one other person.
Lola: I guess fair enough.

Sam: You'll have fun. Don't worry about it.

Satan's Party[]

Sam: Alright, candle-flies... have fun. Ya know, enjoy yourselves.

Lola: Thanks.

Sam: And, uh, before you scamper off... two things, okay? One--

Sad Looking Demon: Sam? Sorry, are you-- are you on, tonight?

Sam: For you? Where you headed?

Sad Looking Demon: Sixth Circle. Lucifer didn't show up for the inspection last week. And now I gotta make sure the stone coffins are being heated properly. Like I don't have enough poop to worry about.

Sam: Yeah, seems like it's a deathstyle, now.

Milo: Wait, sorry, what's your job, exactly?
Sam: Wiederganger, Sweat Cooker of Infidels, this is Milo and Lola, recently deceased.
Sad Looking Demon: Yeah, congratulations. I'm the Foreman down at the coffin mines in the City of Dis. We slow roast heretics and serve them with a creamy potato bake along with brussel sprouts and bacon.
Lola: I'll get the recipe, later.

Milo: Wait, Satan didn't show up for work?
Sam: Wiederganger, Sweat Cooker of Infidels, this is Milo and Lola, recently deceased.
Sad Looking Demon: Yeah, congratulations. I'm the Foreman down at the coffin mines in the City of Dis. And no, he didn't. Even though we had an appointment at eleven so he could sleep in.

Sad Looking Demon: Anyways, can you help me out? I know it's out of the way.

Sam: No, I'll give you a ride.

Sad Looking Demon: Great! Thanks. I'd swim, but... the lava starts hurting if you're in it for too long.

Milo: Wait, Sam, what were your two things-- two pieces of advice?
Sam: Was I gonna give you two? That seems excessive. How about one? I'll give you one. Do you wanna hear the first thing I was gonna say or the second? Ah, sorry, we just ran out of time for both... cause of this washing bear.

The first.
The second.
(Say nothing.)
The first.

Milo: Uh, the first.
Sam: Don't worry so much about the future. It's not gonna be what you expect and, uh, you're here, now, so just focus on that while you still have your shoes on.
Lola: Um, okay.

The second.

Milo: Uh, the second?
Sam: Don't be intimidated by Morningstar.
Lola: Satan?
Sam: He's tall. He's had kings and queens commit atrocities in his name. And you can thank him for the Hurricanes winning the Stanley Cup in ‘06. But at the end of the day, he's still just a boy. With worries.
Lola: Um, okay.

(Say nothing.)

Sam: And now I don't have time for either!

Milo: See you later, Sam. Or, uh, hopefully we uh... won't?
Sam: Eh, let's see how your time is with Luke, first.

Sam: Text me if you need a ride somewhere!

[Sam and Wiederganger drive off.]

Milo: Huh. I wonder what advice Sam was gonna have for us.
Lola: Yeah, I'm wondering that, too, actually--actually--I'm--I'm wondering why you didn't think to ask?
Milo: Hey, I did ask! And then I zoned out and started thinking about the Gray Ghost episode of Batman, like-- Batman goes to the actor's house who played the Gray Ghost and, like, admonishes him for not being Gray Ghost! What a complete nutjob! Like, I don't think Michael Keaton is literally, you know, swinging from light poles. But then the crazy part is the fucking actor then saves Batman's life when he just shows up on a roof in the costume! The entire thing is completely insane! So, uh... yeah.

What are you talking about?
Uh huh. Yeah.
(Say nothing.)
What are you talking about?

Lola: Milo, what the fuck are you even talking about?
Milo: Oh, I--I always forget you don't watch early-to-mid-90's children's cartoon shows.
Lola: Yeah, no, I don't.
Milo: Well... this whole bit would make a lot more sense if you did.

Uh huh. Yeah.

Lola: Oh. Uh huh, yeah, yep. That.
Milo: It's just-- it's just really weird when you think about it. Implausible. The whole thing's just very-- it's just very implausible.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: I guess I'm just thinking about that.

Milo: Uh, what do you think Sam meant by that? "Don't think about the future?" That was kind of weird, right? Like... why not think about the future? It's the future.

"We don't have a future..."
"Don't worry about what you can't control."
(Say nothing.)
"We don't have a future..."

Lola: She's saying that we don't have a future. She's saying we're like... the tiger, and the white rhino, and... books made out of dead trees, and-- --and the possibility of being middle class and ever owning a house. She's saying we're done, finished. We're not gonna make it back home.
Milo: Really? You think that's what she was saying? Well... whatever, she doesn't get to decide that. And I still buy used books to read the little birthday messages people write in the front flap. So there.

"Don't worry about what you can't control."

Lola: She's saying that we shouldn't worry about stuff you can't control. Like... earthquakes, or... a comet crashing into the Pacific Ocean, or... --whether or not you'll get gray hair or lose your ability to blink or whatever. "It's not gonna be what we expect,"-- it's the same shit everyone over forty seven says to anyone under twenty seven.
Milo: Huh. Yeah, I guess so. Weird that she'd even care enough to, uh, to say anything.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: [sigh] Well I guess I'm just talking to myself. Nevermind.

Milo: Uh, what do you think Sam meant by that? "He's just a boy with worries?" That was a weird thing to say, right? Like, he's probably not just a boy with worries-- He's an everlasting mythological creature I recently just found out was real.

"He's just a man."
"He's insecure about something."
(Say nothing.)
"He's just a man."

Lola: She's saying Satan is just a man, you know, he puts his pants on one leg at at a time, so don't--
Milo: You put your pants on one leg at a time?
Lola: Um, yes, how do you--
Milo: I just sit on the bed and shove both feet in at once and then stand up.
Lola: Well... uh... great.

"He's insecure about something."

Lola: She's just saying he's probably like insecure about something, you know, like... Like everyone has something they're worried about, it doesn't matter how rich or powerful they are.
Milo: Oh, like that guy in the nice suit I saw crying on the street after he dropped his taco.
Lola: Yeah, I'm-- I'm sure he has his problems.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: [sigh] Well I guess I'm just talking to myself. Nevermind.

[At the top of the island, Milo and Lola must speak to the doorman.]

Doorman: Invitations, please?

Milo: Certainly. I think you'll find our names in will call... My name's Milo, I'm with Lynda Landon-- the famous acid-jazz instrumentalist and musical transformationalist, maybe you've--
Doorman: Next.
Lola: And I'm, uh, Lola. We're both with the, uh, musical transformationalist--

Lola: Uh, yeah, we're on the list, I--I think. Lola Woolfe. For Fela, he's a-- a little demon security guard--
Doorman: Next.
Milo: Um, Milo? I'm under the-- the same, uh, thing.

Doorman: Okay. Move along. There's party favors in the back but don't open his fridge.

Milo: We did it!

Lola: We did it!

Milo: I guess all that's left is for us to, uh... enter... the party--

Lola: Yes, entering the Lord of Darkness' party is what we are here to do and what we will do. I'm a little... nervous--

Milo: Yeah, it'll be-- it'll be fine, we'll be fine. We're here for a thing and we're gonna do the thing.

Lola: Yes, exactly. And we'll be fine, so. After you.

[Milo and Lola must enter the house.]

Wormhorn's Replicas - Milo[]

Milo: Um... This doesn't-- this can't be right.

Lola: Uh, hello? Anybody here? Is this Satan's house where the-- where the party's at?

Lola: I cannot believe-- was this all a Goddamn trick?! I mean, I know we're in Hell but Sam seemed to be--

Milo: We can't have missed it, we heard music just outside the door...

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern, and Milo and Lola are teleported into a room with a blue curtain. The curtain slowly rises to reveal a telephone ringing.]

Milo: Uh-- someone want to get that?

[The background lights up to reveal a wall, which holds several decorations including a portrait of Milo's family.]

Milo: Oh. It's my house.

Answering Machine: Hello. You've reached the home of Gene, Barbara, and Milo. Please leave a message with a name and number and we'll get back to you when we can.

[Wormhorn bursts into existence before them.]

Wormhorn: Man alive, Milo, your old man sounds very, very serious.

Milo: Okay, Sister Mary Worm-asshole, ha ha-- this is my old kitchen, great, I get it.

Wormhorn: Oh, I'm so glad, thank you-- your memory was a little fuzzy... so I had to cobble parts of it together from Marshall Fields' display sets circa 1992.

Milo: Well bravo, it's highly accurate.

Lola: Okay-- we don't have time for this, Wormhorn, we just wanna talk to your damn boss.
Wormhorn: Oh, Satan's not my boss, Lola. I'm more like an independent laborer. Or-- or like a sharecropper! And Milo's inhibitions here are paying me under the table.

Lola: Oh my God, where's the damn party, Wormhorn? You know-- the whole reason we're here?
Wormhorn: Just give it a minute, give it a minute-- lemme do this, it'll take a sec.

Wormhorn: Lights!

[A spotlight shines on Milo.]

Wormhorn: N-no, the other lights!

[Spotlights come on around the answering machine, revealing duplicates of Wormhorn holding masks of a young Milo and his parents.]

Wormhorn: Golly gee, it's a regular ol' nuclear family with two and half kids. Minus two of 'em.

Gene: Now, when you hear the beep we all say our names and that's that.

Barbra: Oh, fine.

Milo: Wait-- who cares about--

Wormhorn: SHHHH!

[The phone rings.]

Gene: Hey, you've reached Gene--

Barbra: Barbara--

Milo: And I'm Marty the Magnificent!

Gene: Stop-- Say your real name. Don't do anything else but say your name.

Lola: So you wanted to be called Marty the Magnificent when you were, like, six. So what?
Wormhorn: Marty, Owen, Duke for a week, there-- there was the summer of Charlie--
Milo: Yeah, so what? It took awhile for me to get used to-- to like Milo, okay?

Lola: [laughing] Marty the Magnificent! When did you go back to that-- how old were you?
Milo: Like six! I wanted to be called Marty for like a-- a minute.
Wormhorn: Marty, Owen, Duke for a week, there-- there was the summer of Charlie--
Milo: Yeah, so what? And you knew this already, Lola--
Lola: Sorry, I forgot! I just-- well, we can laugh about it now--

Wormhorn: Marty the Magnificent! Can you believe that? How old were you here?
Milo: Like six! I wanted to be called Marty for like a-- a minute.
Wormhorn: Marty, Owen, Duke for a week, there-- there was the summer of Charlie--
Milo: Yeah, so what? It took awhile for me to get used to-- to like Milo, okay?

Barbra: This is the seventh try. [annoyed sigh] He's his mother's son, he's as flighty as she is--

Gene: Son, you realize this kind of stuff is going to keep you from making friends, right? You have to be comfortable being yourself, not pretending to be something you're not.

Milo: But Marty the Magnificent is who I want to be-- and Lola's my friend!

Gene: Lola's a girl. A girl can't be your friend. Do you understand the difference?

Wormhorn: Annnd... scene.

[The duplicates disappear.]

Milo: It is... a complicated relationship, okay, Mary? Whaddya want from me? It wasn't-- some TV show version of-- of whatever. It's not a big deal that it wasn't "perfect."

Lola: There's really nothing complicated about it, Milo. Your Dad's a dick.
Milo: He's not a-- it is that complicated, he just wants me to be happy, and he's trying, okay? He's trying.

Lola: So his Dad's a little old fashioned! It's... harsh, but he sort of saved you a bit from getting made fun of.
Milo: Yeah, and he did it be making fun of me himself, great trade-off.

Milo: This is all extremely obvious psychobabble bullshit, Wormhorn-- So I don't see eye to eye with my father-- that's like a rule hardwired into every animal's DNA. I think even hamsters get into arguments over who gets the last piece of chicken.

Wormhorn: Maybe. Or maybe he regretted getting you in the divorce instead of his daughter. Because she's a proper lady. And you, Milo, you are many things... but a proper man isn't one of them.

Milo: Fuck. Off!

Lola: Just ignore her, Milo.

Lola: Shut up, Wormhorn!

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern. Milo is teleported to a room where Wormhorn is sitting on a dunk tank in front of a carnival backdrop.]

Milo: Lola? Where--

[A copy of Wormhorn with a mask of Gene appears behind him.]

Gene: I don't care if you're scared. We drove all this way 'cause you wanted to see the carnival. Well, we're here now and you're gonna hit the damn target. Throw the ball and dunk the clown. We're not leaving until you do.

Wormhorn: Dunk me, Milo! Dunk me! Throw the ball! Throw it and dunk me!

Wormhorn: Be a goddamn man and throw it!

[Milo throws, but cannot hit the target.]

Gene: Christ. Lean in! Move closer!

Milo: Dad, will you just lay off! I'm trying!

Gene: Don't embarrass your family in front of all these people!

[Milo throws, but regardless if he hits the target, nothing happens.]

Gene: Son. Come on. This isn't how I taught you! Throw from your shoulder-- follow through!

(This choice cannot run out of time.)

Milo: You know what, screw this-- I'm not playing this anymore.

Milo: You know what, screw this-- I don't care what you think, I really don't.

[Gene disappears.]

Wormhorn: Huh?

Milo: And screw you, Wormhorn-- My Dad, he's not the best, but he's not this total fucking monster you make him out to be. And also... give the guy a damn break. He works like a dog and doesn't speak English that well.

Wormhorn: You know, I was gonna try that but it was super racist sounding, and-- you know, there are limits--

Lynda: Milo? Is that you? Lola, sweetie, your guy's in here--

Fela: Hey! Milo? Is that you in here? Lola, he's in here--

Meeting with Fela or Lynda[]

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern and Milo is transported back to the party, where Lola runs to him.] Lola: Milo! Jesus!

Lynda: Who are you talking to? I thought maybe I heard... somebody else?

Fela: Who are you, uh, talkin' to? I thought there were two of you.

Milo: Oh, just my Personal Demon, Sister Mary Wormhorn.

(Helped Lynda)
(Helped Fela)
(Helped Lynda)

Lynda: Yeah, no, I know what those are like.

(Helped Fela)

Fela: Oh yeah. Those things can be real asswipes.

Milo: Oh, uh, nobody important.

Lola: Milo! Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I turned around and it was-- I saw a-- witch doing a keg stand, and-- I didn't know where you were. Are you doing okay?

Milo: Yeah, thanks for ditching me, Lola. We're even now for the time I missed your ice skating competition.
Lola: We're never even for that! Okay?! I hit a sextuple axle!

Milo: No, it's-- it's fine, I handled it.
Lola: Yeah, you, uh-- you look-- you look good.

Lola: You look okay at least, are you--

[The doors open behind him and a crowd of partygoes enter.]

Barney Crag: Where's the booze?

Sean Addleston: This party has everything!

Susan Wishbone: Oh awesome, they have a ceiling in here.

Lynda: Look-- take it from me, Milo... The best way to combat your Personal Demons is to just drink until you can't remember your ex-husband's foot hair. Which is why you'll notice my Fuzzy Navel is only half full. And it's my fourth. In an hour.

Sound advice!
You should confront your issues!
(Say nothing.)
Sound advice!

Milo: You know what, right now that-- that sounds like perfect advice.
Lola: Milo, no.

You should confront your issues!

Milo: I--I always thought it was better to, like, confront your issues head on. Right? Isn't that the-- the message from every Canadian TV show?
Lynda: Oh please, self-actualization is a scam invented by cat lovers. It's cheaper to drink and you die quicker.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: That's not-- you're joking, she's joking.

Lola: C'mon, Lynda-- you're gonna meet up with Mercury Wyrm, right?
Lynda: I did meet up with Mercury Wyrm. I told Jane I fucked her brother, and she said she was glad I lost the baby.
Lola: What? I thought you wanted to, like, smooth things over? Be, uh, pro--pro-active with your--
Lynda: Spare me the therapy camp verbs. We hate each other and always will, the end, no post-script. Look, you're the closest things to friendly I've seen since I got here, so I'll give you some advice... Be a coward. Do what's easy. Live a lie. There's no honor in taking the hard road. And if you don't believe me, look around... there's a lot of Kamikaze pilots down here.
[Lynda walks off.]
Lola: Well, that sucked. I mean... I thought she was gonna like, I dunno.. Be better or something?

She seems sad...
What a mean person!
She seems sad...

Milo: She seems... I dunno, she just seems sad.

What a mean person!

Milo: Wow, what a mean person she turned out to be! And in-- and in Hell of all places, I just don't--

Fela: Glad you-- you guys made it! I was, uh, you know, I was-- I was waitin' by the... latrine--
Lola: Uh, you been havin' a good time tonight, Fela?
Fela: I have had a-- a few, I have, it's been a-- been a rough night for ol' Fela, here.

(Blamed Peter or Eliza)
(Blamed Greg)
(Blamed Peter or Eliza)

(Blamed Peter)
(Blamed Eliza)
(Blamed Peter)

Fela: That-- that guy you said-- you said did it? Beaker?
Lola: Peter.
Fela: Wasn't him.

(Blamed Eliza)

Fela: That-- that girl you said-- you said did it? Elisha?
Lola: Eliza.
Fela: Wasn't her.

Fela: Nope, nope. Wrong person. And then the right person took a shit in the school pond. So naturally, now I'm fired. Tough titties, though, right? Fuck me, I guess.

Oh shit, I'm sorry.
We can vouch for you.
Oh shit, I'm sorry.

Milo: Oh... man, shit, that's-- that's our fault, too, I'm so sorry--

We can vouch for you.

Milo: Hey, no, we can-- we should totally vouch for you, we can tell him, or-- or her--

Fela: Doesn't matter. What does it-- what matters, honestly? What matters? Friends don't matter, they don't-- obviously, cause I thought-- I thought we were gettin' to be best friends--
Lola: "Best friends?"

(Blamed Greg)

Fela: You know Dean Botis? The-- the guy that--
Lola: That called you Fellatio?
Fela: Yeah, he-- he told the School Director that he caught that interloper, Greg. That it was all-- that it was all him! He stole all my fuckin'-- all the thunder-- everyone's thunder. So he'll get a-- a fat bonus, and-- And be-- be able to get another car for me to wash.

We can vouch for you!
Oh shit, I'm sorry.
We can vouch for you!

Milo: Hey, no, we can-- we should totally vouch for you, we can tell him, or-- or her--
Fela: It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine, it's-- it's totally fine.
Lola: Fela, c'mon, we--

Oh shit, I'm sorry.

Milo: Oh... man, shit, that sucks, I'm sorry.

Fela: And the-- and the thing of it is, Botis-- he and I-- we-- we used to be good friends, ya know? Good friends, the-- the best friends. I'd drive him to the airport, he'd give my ex-wife free mammograms. And then... you just keep livin' I guess. You just keep livin'.

(Said you were detectives)
(Didn't)
(Said you were detectives)

Fela: Alright listen detect-- uh, listen up detectives... take me-- alright uh, here, listen...

(Didn't)

Fela: Listen, here's the-- take my, uh... li-- listen up! Listen up right now...

Fela: Don't... trust... nobody. Don't care for nobody, don't act like you care for nobody--
Lola: Fela--
Fela: Cause you're just gonna end up some poor, undersized-for-his-sex demon... suckin' Hell whiskey out of Goddamn ashtrays. Remember that... And remember where I parked my-- my scooter for me. I gotta ride that shit ho-- [burps] home later.

(Blamed Peter or Eliza)
(Blamed Greg)
(Blamed Peter or Eliza)

Lola: Ugh, I feel like shit. Maybe we shoulda... I dunno, played that differently...

Tell me about it.
He'll, uh, cheer up.
Tell me about it.

Milo: God, tell me about it.

He'll, uh, cheer up.

Milo: Uh, well... hopefully he just keeps drinking and makes the turn to a-- a happy drunk?

(Blamed Greg)

Lola: Man... poor guy, that sucks. I feel so bad for him...

It's depressing...
He'll, uh, cheer up.
Tell me about it.

Milo: God, it's so depressing.

He'll, uh, cheer up.

Milo: Uh, well... hopefully he just keeps drinking and makes the turn to a-- a happy drunk?

Herb Demon: Everybody into the blood pool! Pants off, dance off!

Lola: Ugh, whatever, let's just find Satan and drink him under the table and get back home.

Milo: We don't know what he looks like.

Lola: Well... I'm sure he'll stick out.

Meeting Satan[]

[While walking across the room, Milo will bump into a demon.]

Hightower: Hey. Dick-for-brains. I'm trying to Mac Daddy on my Home Skillet here, and you accidentally touched me. That gives me legal party rights to pound you into indiscriminate ash.

Lola: Hey, he was just trying to get by.

Hightower: He should've tried harder.

Milo: S--s--sorry, man, I was just--

Milo: Uh, we're just-- just looking for, uh--

[Satan teleports into the room behind them, holding a pot.]

Satan: Hey, so I couldn't remember if you folks wanted Dr. Tibble's Vi-Cocoa or Omensestter Ale. (He drops the pot.) So, I just mixed them both together.

Crowd: Woo!

Satan: Oh. Hi, Hightower. You wouldn't be attempting to intimidate Messrs Sang Bong and Lola Woolfe at my carousal, would you? Because that kind of behavior doesn't really structure well with the pack mentality I'm trying to delicately maintain.

Hightower: No, no no no, your-- your Angel of Darkness, I was--

Satan: Great! I'll be out on the back patio. I gotta terrific stock guy I want you to meet.

[Satan teleports away.]

Lola: So... that's, uh, that's Satan?

Hightower: What do I look like, a dictionary?

[Hightower and his friend walk away.]

Lola: Okay, so, uh, first impressions. Tall. He knows our names. Which... I don't like. Also, he smells like a burning courthouse--

Milo: I thought it was more like a hospital basement.

Lola: How are we gonna do this?! You know, you hear you got to outdrink Satan a bunch of times and it sort of just becomes something you think you can do-- Like when people say, "Just cut out sugar, you'll get fit fast." And I'm like, "Yeah, that's easy. Fuckin' cave men didn't eat sugar, right?

Milo: Don't worry so much, Lola. Okay? It's-- it's been done before, right? I--I'm sorry, but I have this ringing in my ears-- It-- it sounds like my old math teacher crying...
Lola: It's been "done before?" Twice before. Alright? So it's like saying I can cut my own hair.

Milo: Yeah, this, uh, sorta seems impossible. Just being next to him is-- I--I'm sorry, but I have this ringing in my ears-- It-- it sounds like my old math teacher crying...

Lola: [sighs] Let's just talk to him. He seemed... reasonable enough. We still think it's a mistake that we're here, right? Right?

Milo: Yeah. Sure.
Lola: Yeah, yes, exactly, I also think that.

Milo: Oh definitely, this was a screw-up.
Lola: Yes. This was a screw-up.

Lola: Jesus Christ, okay-- this was a mistake, Milo.

Lola: So now we'll just explain our situation and he'll let us go back. Like when I left my socks on the Universal Studios Tour Ride.

Milo: They didn't let you do the tour again, Lola--

Lola: It's fine, he's not-- it's fine, just let me do all the talking with him. Like when I talked that socks salesmen into giving me a discount on my re-bought socks. Anyway, I'm better with restaurant managers, okay?-- This is-- this is just asking to use the Employee Washroom but on a larger scale.

Milo: Yeah, um, you can lead. I'll just, uh, jump in if you get into trouble. Or blank out.
Lola: God, Milo, I'm not-- I'm not going to "blank out." Only a complete fucking idiot wouldn't be able to respond in time to the alloted gaps of silence given in an average conversation.
[Control switches to Lola.]

Milo: Hey, you know what? I talked myself into a free mini-pizza once when I dropped the last three I ordered on the ground, so... Maybe-- maybe I should, uh, negotiate the terms of our release here.
Lola: [scoffs] Um-- okay-- have at it. But I will be here if you need me.

Lola: Agreed? Agreed.
[Control switches to Lola.]

[Milo and Lola can walk past the stage near the entrance, where a demon, Ordog, is poking a burning stick into a human lying on the stage, Carl.]

Crowd: [Cheering]

Ordog: I think Carl can take a little bit more! Who thinks Carl here can take a little bit more?!

Carl: Yes sir, can I have another!

Ordog: Carl, you're really-- the stench is starting to get to me. Actually, how did this even start? I kinda-- I've gotten a lost in the moment, here-- this is weird.

Welkin Way Bar Options[]

Human Person: So. What'd you do to get an invite?
Drunk Man: I got really into massages. Giving them, getting them. And I, you know, just kept trying to bring that up in every conversation.
Human Person: Oh, I crashed an oil tanker in the Bering Strait.
Drunk Man: Hey, you know what's really good for that? A massage.
Satan Bartender: Okay, keep the serving area clear, please. Thank you. A younker and a gremmie-- how are you two, this imperfectly fine evening?
Milo: Uh, pretty-- pretty good.
Satan Bartender: I'm Father Chock-A-Block, and I'll have the distinct pleasure of serving you tonight. Menu's up top. What'll you be starting with?

House Party Girl: Um, do you know how to make a Ritual of Star Ruby?
Satan Bartender: We, uh, ran out of forefingers a half hour ago.
House Party Girl: Fine, I'll go cut some of my own, then.
Satan Bartender: Back again, eh? What'll it be?

Pint Sized Demon: No, no, no, he-- he looked like the hero from "The Sorrows of Satan."
Party Dude: I just don't understand why people think they're owed a trip to Heaven, like-- You don't think I knew where I was going when I pretended to be mentally ill to cut the line at that water park? And lemme tell you, it was... surprisingly not worth it.
Satan Bartender: Next drinker! Want something different or stick to what you know?

Satan Bartender: Hey, kids. Want another round?
Satan Bartender: Need another?
Satan Bartender: Hey, good to see you, again. Want something else?
Satan Bartender: Another round of the same stuff or want to mix it up?
Satan Bartender: Need something?
Satan Bartender: Back again, eh? What'll it be?
Satan Bartender: Want something different or stick to what you know?

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: Uh, I'll have a Judas Chair.
Satan Bartender: One Judas Chair, comin' up.

Milo: I'll take a Judas Chair, please.
Satan Bartender: A Judas Chair, you got it.

Milo: One Judas Chair? I guess?
Satan Bartender: A Judas Chair, sure thing.

Milo: Load me up a Judas Chair, uh, sir.
Satan Bartender: I make a great one of those, you won't be disappointed.

(Lola variants)

Lola: One Judas Chair, thanks.
Satan Bartender: One Judas Chair, comin' up.

Lola: A Judas Chair, when you have the, uh, the time.
Satan Bartender: A Judas Chair, you got it.

Lola: How about a Judas Chair...
Satan Bartender: A Judas Chair, sure thing.

Lola: A Judas Chair sounds, uh, promising...
Satan Bartender: I make a great one of those, you won't be disappointed.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: I'll take a Global Extinction.
Satan Bartender: One Global Extinction, sure thing.

Milo: One Global Extinction, if I may.
Satan Bartender: A Global Extinction, okay, stand back.

Milo: A Global Extinction? I don't know why I'm asking it like a question...
Satan Bartender: Okedoke, one Global Extinction on it's way.

Milo: I'll have a-- a Global Extinciton, thanks.
Satan Bartender: A Global Extinction, comin' up.

(Lola variants)

Lola: One of these, uh, Global Extinctions, please.
Satan Bartender: One Global Extinction, sure thing.

Lola: Uh, just gimme a Global Extinction.
Satan Bartender: A Global Extinction, okay, stand back.

Lola: Uh, just gimme a Global Extinction.
Satan Bartender: Okedoke, one Global Extinction on it's way.

Lola: A Global Extinction sounds like exactly what I want right now.
Satan Bartender: A Global Extinction, comin' up.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: One of the, uh, Great Falls?
Satan Bartender: One Great Fall, on it's way.

Milo: What's in a Great Fall? Actually, just give it to me.
Satan Bartender: A Great Fall, one of Satan's favorites.

Milo: A Great Fall, please.
Satan Bartender: Another Great Fall, people keep askin' for these.

Milo: One Great Fall, thanks.
Satan Bartender: One Great Fall, sure thing.

(Lola variants)

Lola: I think I'm in the mood for a Great Fall.
Satan Bartender: One Great Fall, on it's way.

Lola: I'll take a Great Fall?
Satan Bartender: A Great Fall, one of Satan's favorites.

Lola: One Great Fall, if you know how to make it. Which I'm sure you do, cause it's on the menu...
Satan Bartender: Another Great Fall, people keep askin' for these.

Lola: A Great Fall, please.
Satan Bartender: One Great Fall, sure thing.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: Can I get a Forgotten Gospel?
Satan Bartender: A Forgotten Gospel, sure.

Milo: One Forgotten Gospel? Sounds good, right?
Satan Bartender: A Forgotten Gospel, I love makin' these.

Milo: I'll take a Forgotten Gospel, thanks.
Satan Bartender: One Forgotten Gospel, sure thing.

Milo: A Forgotten Gospel, please.
Satan Bartender: Forgotten Gospel, okay.

(Lola variants)

Lola:
Satan Bartender: A Forgotten Gospel, sure.

Lola:
Satan Bartender: A Forgotten Gospel, I love makin' these.

Lola:
Satan Bartender: One Forgotten Gospel, sure thing.

Lola:
Satan Bartender: Forgotten Gospel, okay.

Conversation with Satan[]

[As they walk into the back patio, Milo and Lola find Beelzebub speaking with Satan.] Beelzebub: [sighs] No, it-- it's always a great party, Morningstar, I'm having a-- a good time.

Satan: If you're having a good time, Beelzebub, why don't you look like you're having a good time--

Beelzebub: Uh, I don't know-- my face just isn't communicating my interior thoughts?

Satan: No, it's definitely communicating, Your head is a master orator, trust it.

Beelzebub: I came here to get approvals--

Satan: On a thousand iron maidens, yeah, scary-- it's okay, you're intimidated by the size of the order--

Beelzebub: There's a deadline on this, and if we miss the quarter, where are the gluttons going to go? Huh? You wanna store 'em?! I can't stock 'em with the heretics.

Satan: [chuckles] I'm not talking about work, okay? Not tonight-- it's not happening. It's the weekend.

Beelzebub: It's a Tuesday, Luke. And a school night. And I have kids.

Satan: Yeah, I already saw them, they just left to have a threesome with that Conquistador.

Beelzebub: I honestly... just sign the damn order. If I could I'd just sign it for you, but I can't do your swooping S well enough.

[Beelzebub disappears partway through Satan's next line.]

Satan: Beezle! C'mon, brother, I'm joking with you, you don't... eh, he's already gone. And I'm just uh-- talking to myself now.

[Across the patio, Milo and Lola can pet a dog.]

Milo: And who are you, big guy? Huh? Havin' a good time?

Lola: I thought all dogs go to Heaven?

Demon: Uh, yeah, most do. But not Baphomet! That's Satan's prized hunting dog. He used to use him to track down wayward souls but, uh, typically he just feeds him treats while high, now.

Milo: Sounds more fun, to be honest.

[Milo and Lola must speak with Satan.]

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Uh--uh--uh--ahem, um, uh, excuse me...

(Chose Lola)

Lola: [Loudly clears throat]

Beelzebub: [Sighs] Yeah, champ, what is it? You need something?

Milo: [clears throat]

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Um, hi. I'm Milo, and this is Lola. You know that, uh, of course. This is uh-- uh-- [Clears throat]--great-- great party house, you have. Jesus Christ... Shit-- I should not have mentioned JC-- I'm sorry, I should start over. Uh, hi! I'm Milo, and this is--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Uh, hi? Mr-- Mr. Lucifer, it's-- thank you-- thank you for having us over.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Sorry to interrupt your little, uh, side... conversation here, but can we-- can we talk to you about--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Uh, s-sorry to interrupt your little, uh, side conversation here, but can we talk to you about--

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Uh, excuse me, uh, S-Satan? Mr. Satan, you, uh, you have a-- a really cool... place, here. I love the patio, and, uh-- is-- is this, uh, is this sienna, or-- or-- sienna, is that--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Uh, excuse me-- excuse me, Mr. Lucifer. We, uh , just got into town, I guess you could say...

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Satan, wow. The big man downstairs, it's-- It's really great to finally meet you after all the nightmares I had of you chasing and eating me.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Satan! It's-- you're Satan, and you're-- you're real and you're here and-- It's-- like I-- like I can say, "Hey, Satan!" and it's not some like bitchy cousin, it's actually you! [Laughs nervously] I'm sorry, does anyone else find this really, really funny?
Milo: Oh man.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Pardon me, I don't mean to interrupt your personal time, but I have to say it's an-- it's an honor, truly. The Great Dragon, the Redeemer. Your reputation precedes, I-- it's a joy to be invited. And the soirée is just lovely.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Pardon me, I didn't mean to interrupt your personal time, but I have to say it's-- it's an honor, truly. The Great Dragon, the Redeemer. Your reputation precedes, I-- it's a joy to be invited. And the soirée is just lovely.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Hey, Lucifer! Luke-a-Bomb Betty, you know... You don't look like how I-- I thought you'd look like. Like a vagabond, or-- or a monk. Hairless, shaved not in penance, with shag carpet eyebrows. Or maybe I'm just echoing an old book.
Lola: Oh, my God.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Wow! You're li-- you're like the Good Year Blimp, bongo, you're like-- You're like the sun and moon of the sea parting all for the biggest conga line on Neptune, man-- Are your toenails like the size of airplanes?
Milo: Lola, what are you--

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Lola: Uh, hi. Mr--Mr. Lucifer, it's-- thank you-- thank you for having us over.

(Chose Lola)

Milo: Um, hi! I'm Milo, and this is Lola. You know that, uh, of course.

(Beelzebub is present)

(Chose sober option)
(Chose drunken option or nothing)
(Chose sober option)

Satan: Oh, look, Beelzebub, people who know that at a party you're supposed to have a drink and enjoy yourselves. Wait wait, you two are dry? Maybe Beelzebub can fetch you a drink. And himself a drink.

(Chose drunken option or nothing)

Satan: Oh, look, Beelzebub, people who know that at a party you're supposed to have a drink and enjoy yourselves.
Beelzebub: Just sign the work order before morning. I'll see you at work tomorrow.

[Beelzebub leaves.]

Satan: "Albion is sick and America faints." Two more from the colonies. Cultural expats, certainly, but it's okay. We're all immigrants here. Are you having a good time? Milo and Lola?

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: We're, uh, we're having an-- an okay time. I would say? Right, Lola? Like, two--two out of four stars?

(Chose Lola)

Lola: I mean... honestly, it's been pretty terrible, but I think you'd be disappointed if I said anything different--
Milo: No, it's been like-- two--two out of four stars?

Milo: Three if it weren't-- I just need like a good chair, honestly.
Satan: You should try the snacks. I wasn't in charge of them, but I hear favorable reviews.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Um, how do you, like, already know our names? There has to be a million people filing in a day, right?
Lola: Yeah, I mean people who don't wash their hands alone would--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Uh, do you, like, know us already? Is that bad? I'm not feeling-- You saying our names is kinda giving me heartburn.

Satan: I know everyone. Hell bound or not. But don't think that makes you two rumping jumping generals any less special.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Okay, so I think you think that we-- we belong here, but we think-- well, we know that there's been a mistake. And-- it's-- it's fine, this is why electrical pencils have electrical erasers.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Listen, Mr. uh... Mr. Dark One, I think-- we think there's been an error in the system, a bug maybe? Of sorts?
Milo: And-- it's fine. This is why electrical pencils have electrical erasers.

Lola: You mean a mechanical pencil?
Milo: This can be fixed, is the point.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Oh, we're having a wonderful time, simply wonderful, the-- The weather here is a lot, uh, crisper, I think is the word I'm looking for than I expected--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Oh, it's been simply divine, really. The weather here is a lot, um, crisper, I think is the word I'm looking for, than I had expected.

Satan: You'll love Autumn, then. Or our version of it, anyway. It's not as pretty as your American Northeast, but our rain is more creative.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Cut the fucking bullshit, pale wizard! Cut it with-- with pliers, I know your tricks and your language of the seas-- You wanna dance with me, huh? I'll make ice cubes outta your-- your knee caps!
Lola: I'm sorry, Mr. Satan, I think the drink is just really going to his--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Cut the fucking bullshit, pale wizard! Cut it with pliers, I know your tricks and your language of the seas. You wanna dance with me? I'll make ice cubes outta your-- your-- your knee caps.
Milo: Oh geez, look, we didn't know that the drink would--

Satan: I know what our infernal hydroxyls do, my dear, and it's as natural as breathing the sun. Besides, even God knows it's okay to reinvent yourself a little. It's why He sent the flood.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Lola: We're having an experience, you could say. Not entirely un-enjoyable, but, uh... Honestly, we came over here to say that we think there's been, uh, a mistake... We don't belong here.

(Chose Lola)

Milo: It's been-- it's been not bad, so far, not uh, you know, too painful. But-- but-- but to tell you the truth, we came over to say that we think there's been, uh, been a mistake?

Heidegger: Hey, sorry to interrupt these two dorks but your real friends are here.

Satan: Chernabog? Did he bring the Pine Barrens Tiswin? Cause we're running dry and this thing's only like a third over.

Heidegger: I didn't ask.

Satan: Okay, Milo, Lola, walk with me a little. For as the sailor told the bishop... now is the time to get extraordinarily drink.

Lola: Listen, Mr. Satan--

Milo: Listen, uh, Fevered One, we--

Satan: You want to ask my permission to leave, and, failing that... You want to challenge me to a drinking contest you've heard about, most probably from Sam. How far off am I?

Satan: Anyways, you want to known if you can go back home... And if I say no, you want to attempt this "drinking contest" you've heard about... from Sam. Right?

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Sooooo is the contest real? Like-- it seems weird to base it all on that... Wouldn't you rather see who could lie or steal or kill or program malware the most efficiently?
Satan: It's a drinking contest, Milo, because drinking contests are fun-- and I'd rather do that than count the number of times you cursed out the mailman.
Lola: For that, would four times be like an average number? Or--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: So is it a real thing? The contest, I mean? Cause I can't figure out why it's a drinking contest and not a contest to see who can, like, make their mother cry the fastest.
Satan: It's a drinking contest, Lola, because drinking contests are fun-- and I'd rather do that than count the number of times you cursed out the mailman.
Milo: What about cursing out firemen, cause I'd-- I'd really win that one. Their sirens are too loud!

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Soooo can we go? With respect, of course, I'm sure... I'm sure some people like it.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: So speaking of asking... can we just like go? This was a mistake, right, not that-- Not that some people would like it, I'm sure--

Satan: People aren't supposed to like it, that's... kind of the whole thing. So you don't have to tip-toe around offending me if neither of you appreciate that our porn stars ugly people. But... as for the contest--

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: You say Sam like she owes you ten bucks and a clean pair of trousers.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: You say Sam like she owes you ten bucks and a clean pair of trousers.

Satan: I would never speak ill of Salathiel. She has a cow's heart-- overly large, stretching to breaking. She worries for people perhaps too ignorant to worry for themselves. But... as for the contest--

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Perhaps. Or perhaps we're here to just... carouse, as you put it, earlier, with that no-necked gentleman, Hightower.
Satan: No, Milo, I know you're here because you want to leave, and will take any opportunity that presents.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Perhaps. Or perhaps we're here to just... carouse, as you put it, earlier, with that no-necked gentleman, Hightower.
Satan: No, Lola, I know you're here because you want to leave, and will take any opportunity that presents.

Satan: You have the ambition of a chariot-racer. So you don't have to tip-toe around offending me if neither of you appreciate that our porn stars ugly people. But... as for the contest--

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: My souls and by jings, Sam's a horseshowin' liar, isn't she?! There ain't no-- ain't no mutton candles, no housefather-- no thundercloudin' contest is there?!
Satan: No, there is, Milo, there is, Sam isn't dolly braiding you.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: My souls and by jings, Sam's a horseshowin' liar, isn't she?! There ain't no-- ain't no mutton candles, no housefather-- no thundercloudin' contest is there?!
Satan: No, there is, Lola, there is, Sam isn't dolly braiding you.

Satan: This whole thing was my idea, yet I can't take full credit. I didn't make the rules, I just created the escape clause for a soul every-- you know-- thousand years or so. We sing, we drink, we play a few games... it's more fun than doing your laundry, at least.

Satan: So as I was saying, I didn't make the rules here, and I certainly don't break them... I just allow a little bending... and that flexure happily comes with a little merriment and a little more debauchery.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Why is it-- why is it so few, if you, uh, don't mind me asking? Like, you're the Devil. Wouldn't you want as many assholes out there as possible?
Satan: It's like ants, Milo.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: So... you're the Devil. Why not let everyone out? If you-- you have the power, I mean?
Milo: She's in no way impugning your ability to do things, I want to make that clear.
Satan: It's like ants, Lola.

Satan: You see one, maybe it just came in on your jacket. You see a dozen... you're spraying. And, believe me, you don't want to see God spraying.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Wait, and God-- like, He must know about this, so... He just doesn't, like, care?

(Chose Lola)

Lola: How can God not care that you're letting psychos and rapists out onto the streets?

Satan: Oh, He cares. It has to make enough sense. I couldn't bring you back if you blew yourself up on the Six O' Clock News. But He also knows as well as anyone if you let a little disobedience deflate the balloon a little... it won't one day just go and pop on you.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Alright then, line up the shots! And hold the fuckin' chasers, I don't need bumpers when I bowl.

(Chose Lola)

Milo: Alright, line up the shots! And hold the fuckin' chasers, I don't need bumpers when I bowl.

Satan: I'm sure you're anxious, most mammals are-- excluding dolphins and snipers-- but... Like everything in life and death and that Nebraskan turnpike in-between... Things discussed are more complicated when enacated.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Sounds-- sounds lively, sounds like-- sounds like fun, a race to imbibe! Is it, uh-- where do we go to start? Do-- do you have a room, or, uh, vault for this or--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Sounds positively devilish, you know, in that fun, crooked eyebrow thing way... So, if you'll just, uh, lead us to the chamber or coliseum where I'm sure it takes place--

Satan: I'm sure you're anxious, most mammals are-- excluding dolphins and snipers-- but... Like everything in life and death and that Nebraskan turnpike in-between... Things discussed are more complicated when enacated.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Enough of this fancy wishy wash-- just point us to whatever fucking toilet bowl we need to Shawshank our way through-- so I can get back to my pancakes and rosey toed flip flops!
Satan: I would, Milo, I really would if I could bring you back to your pancakes and decorative footwear, but...

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Enough of this fancy wishy wash-- just point us to whatever fucking toilet bowl we need to Shawshank our way through-- so I can get back to my pancakes and rosey toed flip flops!
Satan: I would, Lola, I really would if I could bring you back to your pancakes and decorative footwear, but...

Satan: Like everything in life and death and that Nebraskan turnpike in-between... Things discussed are more complicated when enacated.

Lola: So how does it work, exactly? We just--

Milo: So how does this-- what do we do, exactly, for this to--

Satan: Wait, my brother, Asmodeus-- this is like the eighth text tonight-- It's a clip of someone falling down stairs while trying to carry a pumpkin-- eh, I'll just mark it as "read."

[As they pass back into the house, a crowd cheers to Satan.]

Barney Crag: Hail Satan!

Susan Wishbone: Hail-- Hail Satan, haha!

Sean Addleston: H-- Hail Satan!

Satan: Yes, thank you, keep up the bad work.

[Milo and Lola must continue walking to the other side of the room.]

Dogbelly: Hey hey, boss-boss-boss-boss, can I--

Satan: Dogbelly, I'm not your boss, remember? Beelzebub runs the day to day.

Dogbelly: Yeah yeah yeah I just need like an extra day or two time off-- My baby wants to do Halloween in Cancun, and I--

Satan: Fine, fine, tell her to buy a swimsuit.

Dogbelly: Thank you, brother, thank you, thank you.

[They must continue into the entrance room.]

Satan: Just give me a second here, I don't want my buddies to ding-dong-ditch me.

[Satan exits through the front door, and Milo and Lola must eventually follow him. Milo and Lola's current drink disappears.]

Vetala: Heyyy, there he is!

Chernabog: It's the big guy himself! Finally.

Morrigan: You look good, you're losing weight?

Satan: You know I'm gonna make you go home and get it if you forgot.

Chernabog: I've got a bottle of Cherub Spit in my pocket, alright?

Satan: I bless you, my son. Milo, Lola, meet Chernabog, dark minister of the seventh circle--

Chernabog: Yeah, hi.

Satan: Morrigan, the black fiend of the high seas--

Morrigan: Pleasure.

Satan: Vetala, the spirit of disease and intestinal issues--

Vetala: Nice to, you know, whatever.

Satan: And Chad, from Kingston Ontario.

Chad: How's it goin'?

Lola: Um. Hi.

Milo: Yeah, uh, fine?

Milo: So it's uh-- so it's-- Chernadog, Nebula, 'Merican, and, uh, Dag? Sorry, I know I have a trick to remember names but I can't remember the trick-- It has something to do with uh-- with counting backwards from your birthday--

Lola: Yeah, I don't-- I mean who gives a shit about this? Chad? Are you fucking kidding me?
Vetala: Oh, must be your first day, honey. I can still smell the entitlement that comes from being born a human in the 21st century.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Uh, hi! Please to, you know, just, uh, just be here... experiencing this.
Morrigan: And just think, we haven't even done anything to you, yet.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Hi. Yeah, it's, uh, it's goin'. Goin' somewhere, at least. Where it'll land, who knows?

[Satan and his friends head back inside, and Milo and Lola must follow him.]

Satan: Come on back! I got the card game set up.

Lola: Wait, we're just-- we'll-- this'll take two minutes, Your-- Your Darkliness, we just wanna--

Milo: Wait, we're just-- this'll take two minutes, Your-- Your Darkliness, we just wanna--

Chernabog: Oh wait! You're the two that are gonna make a run at the big guy, right? Do the drinking contest?

Vetala: What?! My last shit weighs more than both of you put together.

Chernabog: And she had just eaten three people, so.

Chad: Oh yeah, I read about you on Bicker. Gyro and Cola, right?

Morrigan: [giggles]

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Hey, we're stronger than we look, alright, you-- you don't know why we're in Hell. We're a scratch and sniff to you, you don't know our-- our layers--
Lola: Yeah, we-- uh-- we could've been strangling bus drivers for kicks on weekends!

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Hey, we are stronger than we look, alright, you-- you don't even know why we're in Hell. We-- could've been strangling bus drivers for kicks on the weekends, you don't know!

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: We got put here by mistake, so there's no real need for the whole contest part--

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Hey, we're here by mistake, okay, so there's no need for poop-related insults.

Satan: Children, look now, I am your humble servant, truly, I worshipped your pores while you were still in the womb-- but you don't know what soup you're ordering here.

[Satan walks up the stairs to the farther, back level of the room.]

Lola: Well how do we prove we can do this?

Milo: We can do it! Okay? How do we-- how do we show you that we can--

[Satan's phone rings.]

Satan: Who the fuck is texting me right-- Oh, Good gravy, it's Beezle still on me about those unholy reports.

Chad: Well, what do you expect? The guy can't turn off.

Satan: Polly was crawling up my butt, too, tonight-- preaching about God knows what. Hm, actually... okay. I've developed a notion. Milo. Lola. You can help me out. You can help me out and prove you can handle our little uh... test of endurance. Interested?

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Uh... I have a stomach ache all of the sudden, but... alright, let's hear it.

(Chose Lola)

Milo: Ugh-- I have a stomach ache all of the sudden, but... alright, let's hear it.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Uh, sure, okay, what-- what is it?

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Um, sure, okay, what-- what is it?

Satan: Track down my brothers and sisters, the original Monarchs-- Apollyon, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Onoskelis, the fallen Angels, like me-- And outdrink them first. This way you'll be granting me a small favor... You'll be getting them temporarily off my behind-- ...while also proving you can party with beings who have used stars as rushlights. And until you do-- I'll be playing gin rummy in the parlor.

Milo: Wait, wait, I, uh, missed a denominator or something-- what do you want us to do?
Satan: The angels that fought God? They're the Monarchs of Hell, now. And my old pals I used to get shit-faced with until they turned into a bunch of humorless dicks. Find 'em, outdrink 'em, and I'll give you a shot.

Lola: No, I'll, uh, save myself for the final showdown, thank you.
Chernabog: Wise decision.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Uh, I feel like I'm being forced to take the PSAT's all over again, but... sure. If we have to.

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Uh, I feel like I'm being forced to take my driver's test all over again, but... sure. If we have to.

[As they pass by a human talking to a demon, Morrigan pushes the human into the moat.]

Human: Whoooah!

[If Milo and Lola let the above conversation play out before continuing too far, they can now do the following (otherwise, they can do so after completing the conversation with Satan):]

[Milo and Lola can look at a trio of witches making one of them float while breakdancing.]

Milo: Wow. You guys are-- good.

Break Dancing Witch 1: Thank you, dearie! [cackles]

Break Dancing Witch 2: We learned everything we know from Marie Laveau and Mother Suspiriorum. [cackles]

[Milo and Lola can examine a painting of a dragon at the back center of the main room.]

Lola: "And the Great Dragon was acast out, that old serpent, called the Devil..." That's one of the only lines of the Bible I remember... from Revelations.

Milo: Looks like Satan took it as a compliment.

[After walking on the walls and into Satan's personal floor on the ceiling, Milo and Lola can examine a mounted fiddle on the walls of the first room.]

Lola: It's a... golden fiddle? It says on the plaque that John of Patmos could indeed play very well but Charlie Daniels made up the rest.

Milo: Huh. Interesting.

[Milo and Lola must eventually enter the second room.]

Satan: Alright, one more time for anyone whose mother just came in the room and asked them to take out the trash-- If you get just two out of four Monarch Seals of Approval on this magical and convenient parchment--

[The parchment appears in midair behind them.]

Satan: -- then I'll ignore my friends and let you try to-- as they say-- outparty me.

Satan: But remember what I said. Do try the snacks before you go.

Satan: And trust me... there was no mistake made in you being here.

Satan: And then we'll see how special my little rumping, jumping generals truly are.

Satan: And remember, if you don't think you belong here... there's nothing wrong with reinventing yourself.

Satan: But truly, I do think you'll enjoy our Autumn season. So think about it.

Satan: Any other queries before I get annihilated?

Vetala: Please say no.

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Actually... actually, yeah, uh, do you-- do you know why we're in Hell? Actually?
Satan: Right now, it's six fifteen in Madrid, and there's a man setting out for a dress for his girlfriend-- that he knows will look revealing in the day but will be too cold in the theater they're going to-- and when he makes love to her after he will think of the actress in the film and not how he picked out a dress too cold-- and when he dies fifty years from now, fat and useless, he will open his eyes and find himself here-- and he will ask me the same question you are asking me now, "What did I do to deserve this?" The real question Milo, is... what did you do... to deserve anything else?

(Chose Lola)

Lola: Actually... actually, yeah, uh, do you-- do you know why we're in Hell? Actually?
Satan: Right now, it's one fifteen in Columa, and a woman's attending her father's wedding-- to a woman she doesn't particularly like and when she knows he will ask her to dance-- she will go to the bathroom and sit in a stall with her feet off the floor for fifteen minutes-- and when she dies fifty years from now, frail and useless, she will open her eyes and find herself here-- and she will ask me the same question you are asking me now, "What did I do to deserve this?" The real question, Lola, is... what did you do... to deserve anything else?

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Milo: Um, how did we die, anyway?

(Chose Lola)

Milo: Um, how-- how did we die, anyway?

Satan: Unfortunately, that's not my department, I uh... don't shepherd Collections. But maybe my sister, Polly, can assist you with your query...

(Chose Milo)
(Chose Lola)
(Chose Milo)

Lola: Um, yeah, why are we in--

(Chose Lola)

Milo: Um, yeah, why are we in--

Satan: Nope, missed your chance!

Satan: I'll be seeing you.

[Satan snaps, and Milo and Lola are levitated out the door back into the first room. Control switches to Milo.]

Lola: There was a lot to unpack, there.

Milo: What the Hell was he talking about? What-- what's he saying, that we-- we didn't do enough, that we were-- That we were assholes for not, like, volunteering at blind animal shelters every damn day?
Lola: I volunteered! Not every damn day, and not for blind animals, but, like, enough days. You would think!

Milo: Those "friends" of his were total cocks. Seriously, Chad? Like what the Hell was that?

Lola: Whatever, let's not lose focus. How hard could it be to get two... recommendations?

Milo: I mean, I got five for my college applications, but, uh, we have no idea where these Monarchs are or how to find them.

Lola: Oh! You know who would know?

(No fucking idea./No fucking clue.)

Milo: No fucking--

Sam: Sam! Let's call her cab and ask about it.

Conversation with Sam and Ordog[]

[Milo and Lola must exit Satan's house and head back to the bottom floor of Welkin Way, where they overhear Sam having a conversation with Ordog.]

Sam: Yeah, Forneus already told me. I don't think I can make it.

Ordog: Give me a break, Sam, that's-- you can make it. What the shit else are you going to do tonight.

Sam: My job.

Ordog: Who gave you that job?

Sam: Ordog, seriously. I'm self-employed. It says so right on my tax returns.

Ordog: Just... I know why you don't want to. I know you've been through it before, but... Everyone needs to participate. It won't work if it's just half, or Hell forbid, one.

Sam: I'm-- I'll... I'll think about it, okay, I'm thinking about it.

Ordog: Yeah okay just don't overheat cause time's running out.

[Milo and Lola must speak to Sam, and can do so midway through the above conversation.]

Lola: Hey, what's going on?

Sam: You guys goin' home? What happened?

(Interrupted Ordog and Sam)

Ordog: I'll see you later, Sam.
Sam: Yep, see ya.
[Ordog leaves.]

Lola: Okay, that's two fishy-smelling demons talking to you in hushed tones, so what's the big idea! There's-- you're holding secrets out on us! I want in!
Milo: She doesn't like being left out of secrets.
Sam: There's no secrets, here, kids, Jesus, it's just stuff you don't know about-- Like fighting in world wars or... not being able to look up who was in that movie twenty six hours a day. And it has absolutely nothing to do with you. And you want to keep it that way, trust me.

Maybe we can help?
Not good enough!
Maybe we can help?

Lola: Look, I'm sure whatever you're talking about with these guys is... you know, beyond our current experience levels-- But maybe we can still help, huh? Ever think of that?
Sam: You can't help, okay? You can only stand there, and drink, and sometimes say things. And you should be grateful this universe's expectations are so limited.

Not good enough!

Lola: No no no no no, if we're getting in your cab again I wanna know if you are smuggling Hell drugs across Hell borders!
Sam: Well don't get in my cab, then! Call up-- call up Bill Dickens-- he'll pick you up around the time of the next glacial epoch.
Milo: No, no, we-- we need you, Sam--

Milo: C'mon, Lola, we need to start finding these, uh, these Monarchs before we're stuck here.

Lola: We, uh, we need to start finding some demons called, The uh... The Monarchs... I guess.

Milo: We need to find, uh, Monarchs-- the, like, Monarchs of Hell-- I'm sorry, I-I don't know why I keep saying it like that.

Sam: The Monarchs?

Milo: We said-- Satan said there were four of 'em? That we should find two and outdrink them first because-- Because actually I don't really-- I don't really know. I think he was just trying to get rid of us.

Sam: Ono, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, and, uh...

Lola: Apollyon.

Sam: Yeah. Apollyon. Okay. Well... Ono was here earlier tonight, but she just went on vacation, so that one's no bueno. And Polly, she used to be the Grand Judge of the Dead, but has since sort of retired. She's usually at the, uh, the Sealed Knot, it's a demon's only pub.

Lola: So, uh, let's-- ya know-- let's just say you really needed to outdrink any of these unliving, incorporeal nightmare-monsters. Well, which one would you tackle?
Sam: Oh no, I am not your fuckin' tip line, don't go blaming me when the sun doesn't rise tomorrow. You make the choice, you live with the tab.

Lola: Okay, what about the other one?
Sam: Asmodeus? Al is goin' through some shit-- some people have lost weekends, this guy's having kind of a lost decade.

Sam: But... whenever you wanna head out, just let me know. We will head.

[Milo and Lola must follow Sam to her taxi and choose between going to Asmodeus in Thrall City or Apollyon in Little Rantalia first.]

Sam: Let's see if Apollyon's still a fan of whiskey sours. Next stop, Little Rantalia.

Sam: Wanna try for Asmodeus, eh? Alright. Thrall City, all aboard.

Drive to First Seal Quest[]

Sam: So! While we're riding I might as well give ya some exposition! The fellas and fillies you're tryin' to out-booze-- the Monarchs... They were originally angels of the highest order. Seraphim. They'd fly around God's throne all day tellin' Him how great he is... And sometimes they'd fight intergalactic, interdimensional beings from other planes of existence trying to alter reality.

Milo: Wait, what.

Sam: Yeah they left that part out of most Bibles but anyways-- One day they got sick of being happiness fluffers for the Big I Am and decided they deserved some sort of, uh, profit sharing. So they revolted. Led by Satan, of course-- he was called Morningstar back then. But the Arch-Angels - God's SEAL Team 6 - had the equivalent of friggin' nukes with God's holy radiation-- and the Great War for the Stars lasted as long as a hamburger with a-- with a-- with a, like, really big fat person. Cause the-- cause the hamburger would get eaten fast. Did that-- does that read?

Lola: Huh. Satan, uh, Satan really screwed up, there, didn't he?
Sam: Only if you think living a free life is screwing up. You're still on your parents' cell phone plan, right?'
Lola: ...it's cheaper.
Sam: Thought so!

Lola: God sounds like kind of a jerk... if I can say that, uh, here.
Sam: Hey, you can say whatever the heckfire you want about God now, it's one of the benefits of already being damned. But don't judge Him too harshly. People'll kill the world before they give up air conditioning, and you think He's gonna share Creation? No way.

Milo: What does 'profit sharing' mean in a-- in a, uh, Heavenly, uh, sense?
Sam: They wanted to make up shit as they went along, too. But God's one of those guys that keeps their toys behind glass. He's scared of getting them too dirty.

[After completing their first seal quest, the following option not chosen will play on the boat ride to their next destination.]

Sam: Apollyon and Morningstar... they go way back. I mean-- they all go way back, him and the Monarchs-- the Seraphim, but... You know, when God was still scheming geometry, they were all just kids-- They'd be making dolls out of baryonic matter, fighting with 'em-- it was a real brother-sister thing, you know? After the Fall, and the first guy died, she... she still believed in the rulebook. Ya know? For a time, anyway. So Lucifer let her be the Judge of the Dead... deciding who would go where... and what punishment they'd receive. Uh, she's one of the more respected angels in Hell, probably. Not that that would matter to her.

Who was the first guy?
Is that still her job?
Who was the first guy?

Lola: Who was the first guy? Was it-- Adam? Was it Adam?
Milo: Was it Adam?
Sam: Ugh-- everybody always asks, "Have you met Adam? Is he nice or a dick? Does he have Jesus abs?" The asshole didn't even have a name, guys, he was barely bi-pedal for Christ's sake-- he would poop in his hands and throw it at monkeys. Which, I mean, is funny, don't get me wrong, but still.
Milo: Oh. That's, uh, disappointing.
Sam: Anyways--

Is that still her job?

Lola: Does Apollyon still-- is that still her job? The Judge of the Damned?
Sam: "Dead."
Lola: "Dead?"
Sam: Uh, no, she-- she retired. Sort of.

Sam: After her side-judge, Yama, turned himself into a dog and moved to Mexico... Polly kind of lost her spirit for being a cosmic umpire. She teaches empyrean law at Nastrond now. Sometimes she'll do a little pro bono, uh, lawyering, but--
Milo: Wait. Lawyering? Does that mean we can get like a-- like a retrial or something?
Sam: No! No no no, not-- not for people like you who obviously belong here-- But sometimes, yeah, for fringe cases, we'll have public trials in the square.
[Continue to "Apollyon's Quest."]

Milo: Hey, so what's over--
Sam: "Light seeking light doth light of light beguile--" that was written by the Earl of Southampton's mistress. Any of you heard of it? This ain't a game show so it's not like you'll lose money.

What the Hell does it mean.
''Love's Labour Lost.''
(Say nothing.)
What the Hell does it mean.

Milo: What the Hell does that mean? It's kind of cheating to rhyme the same word four times--
Sam: You don't-- okay Milo doesn't remember-- look, it's from a play you were fucking in.

Love's Labour Lost.

Milo: Uh, it's from Love's Labour Lost. Why do I know that?
Sam: Well firstly you don't know since it's Love's Labour's Lost, and second-- You know it cause you were in the stupid thing.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: It's, uh, from Love's Labour's Lost. That's-- I don't even like Shakespeare, why do I remember that?
Sam: Cause Milo made you watch him perform it in high school?
Lola: Wait, you were in it?

Milo: Oh yeah, I was!
Sam: Yeah, and the girl you were in it for ended up dating your understudy.
Milo: Oh yeah, she did.
Sam: I only bring this, uh, personality-calcifying event because Asmodeus is going through some similar stuff... So you shouldn't really mention anything like-- like love... or relationships. Or like, uh-- doin' it. Or having hope for your, uh, future sexual lives. Anything like that.

Maybe we can help him?
Why not?
Maybe we can help him?

Lola: Maybe, uh, maybe we can-- we can help him?
Sam: You cannot help anyone down here. Alright? I repeat-- you cannot help anyone. Just out drink the son-of-a-bitch and help yourselves. Just like Sally Mitchell helped herself to your understudy's mouth.
Milo: Okay, now-- now look--

Why not?

Milo: Why not? Is he, like-- going through a bad break-up?
Sam: The Peshtigo fire was bad, alright, this-- this was more like your performance as the Good Lord Biron-- A tragic disaster on every level of conception.
Milo: Okay, now-- now look--

Lola: We got it. Avoid touchy-feely, stick to the party-hardy.
Sam: Hey, party-sharty works, too, if you're wearing the right underwear.
[Skip to "Asmodeus' Quest."]

Apollyon's Quest[]

[Sam pulls up at Little Rantalia.]

Sam: Okay, Little Rantalia, here we are. One of Hell's oldest districts, founded, uh, founded right after the war. Lots of relics, landmarks. An Arby's just opened up on the other side of town, and... The Karma Magistratus, or the Courts of Hell, are down the, uh, down the road here. Sort of like your supreme court. Except-- you know-- actually supreme. All the rulings are final!

Lola: Huh, I thought about going to law school for a minute. I, uh, switched majors a lot.
Milo: Only about a hundred million times.
Lola: Well, what's the point of majors when the world's burning, okay? At least... that was the--
Milo: Wasn't that the title of your application essay?
Lola: I was just gonna say that--

Lola: A judicial system in Hell seems, uh, somewhat out of place. What kind of cases would you even see? We're already in Hell.
Milo: Probably like-- probably like-- uh, like nuns who... stole bread... for their... dying... but racist... pets?
Sam: No, it's for like boys who kill their abusive fathers or... women who kill their mother-in-laws.

Sam: Polly usually hangs out in The Sealed Knot, the first bar ever in Hell. Demons only.

Milo: Demons only? So how-- how do we get in?

Sam: Uh, you don't. Not unless you can come out with an overly-complicated scheme involving identity switching! Not likely!

Meeting Roberto Spaghetti and Andrealphus[]

[Sam returns to her cab and drives off. They must start continuing right, where they come across a cuffed Roberto Spaghetti and Andy. They can choose to either stop and listen to their conversation or continue on and ignore them completely.]

Roberto: Mr. Andy, have I ever told you that you remind me of my uncle-- who would take me upon his shoulders to pick apples in the summer?

Andy: Are all mass murderers nostalgia-humpers or is it just you, Roberto?

Roberto: Like I said Mr. Andy, I did not commit the crimes I am accused of.

Andy: My name's Andrealphus, Roberto, I'm your court-ordered attorney, remember? And as soon as my paralegal shows up, we're going to trial and you're probably going to burn, so save the "My talking parakeet made me do it," defense till then, okay?

Roberto: Ciao! Ragazzi! Please, could you-- can you help me?

Milo: Is he talking to us?

Roberto: You. I'm talking to the two of you. Do not be afraid.

Milo: He's talking to us. Should we help the guy?

Sure, what do you want?
(Say nothing.)
Sure, what do you want?

Lola: Sure, what-- what do you need?

(Say nothing.)

Roberto: Please, I just need a little help.
Milo: This is too awkward. We've gotta do this.

Roberto: Bless you, bless you. Perhaps you will indulge me by performing me a small favor. Could you just-- just straighten my hair a little. My Madre, God rest her soul, would never want me to look so disheveled. As you can see I am bound, so I cannot reach my head. Please, it is a kindness I would cherish to my soul.

Are you really innocent?
Is this a trick?
Are you really innocent?

Lola: Maybe... are you really innocent, as you say?
Roberto: I am, I am. Framed by sorcery. A tip from Roberto... never hire a warlock to house sit your cat.
Lola: Okay--
Roberto: And if you do, consider cleaning your tub so he cannot use hair samples to create by witchcraft-- an embryonic homunculus that feasts on the living in your own craven image.
Milo: Good-- good tip.

Is this a trick?

Lola: Right, and when I do, you lean in and bite my face off, is that the deal? Use my face as a skin mask to escape your confines?
Roberto: I do not know of any "deal" but I am not so inventively rude.

Roberto: Please. By helping my hair, it may be the last piece of affection I'm allowed before eternal damnation.
[Lola can choose to either fix Roberto's hair or ignore him and continue walking on.]

(Fix Roberto's hair)
(Fix Roberto's hair)

Lola: There. Your-- your madre would be proud. Or at least less-- slightly less ashamed.
Roberto: Grazie, grazie. Thank you ever so much. May you meet souls as nice as you on your journey through Hades.

Lola: Sorry, um, buddy, can't-- can't hear you!
Roberto: But you, eh, you're responding quite accurately-- to my--
Lola: What? No, uh, walky talk. No English, goo goo, uh, gah gah.
Roberto: You are speaking English, that's baby talk.
Milo: Hey, what's the problem? He seems... okay?

He's a murderer!
We don't know him!
(Say nothing.)
He's a murderer!

Lola: He's a freakin' mass murderer, Milo, you heard what the demon guy said. I know it's like trying to avoid people who hate LA in San Francisco but let's just try to steer clear of the killers if we can.
Milo: Hey, say no more.

We don't know him!

Lola: The only thing we know about him is his own demon lawyer can barely tolerate touching him. Treat him like one of those-- one of those, uh--
Milo: Sign spinning guys?
Lola: Yeah, you don't wanna get nicked, right?
Milo: Hey, say no more.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Okay, nevermind then, we'll just, uh, carry on.

Milo: I had an interesting, uh, thought. You think after you're dead people look through your browser history for laughs? You know, like the way they look through old pictures.

Lola: Why wouldn't they? I know I'd want to see how much you like-- you know-- big asses.
Milo: Is that the worst thing you could think of?
Lola: I don't watch a lot of male-directed porn, okay-- I prefer my porn AI-compiled from National Geographic documentaries.

Lola: Good God, I hope not. I don't need people knowing how many times I looked up how to spell "banana."
Milo: If that's your floor, I think you'll be okay.

Milo: I get it. It's a dumb question. Forget I even asked.

[Milo and Lola must attempt to enter The Sealed Knot.]

Milo: 'The Sealed Knot.' I think this is the place.

[Milo and Lola walk up to the footman.]

Lola: Excuse us, we're just gonna--

Footman: "Just gonna' what? It's demonic entities only beyond this point. Incubi, succubi, demons of fate, familiars, leviathans, Norwegians, CEOs of Walmart--

Lola: We get it.

Footman: I'm sure there are other more appropriate establishments that will be more than happy to serve you. Unfortunately this is not one of them. So, if you'll please make way for our guests.

Lola: Listen Bouncer guy, we're here to see Apollyon, so why don't you step aside and--
Footman: No one just sees Apollyon.
Milo: But--
Footman: "There is pleasure in the pathless woods," friends. Know what that means?
Milo: Get the fuck out--
Footman: Get the fuck out of here, yes.

Lola: Whoa, whoa, you got this all wrong. We are, like, extremely important people--
Milo: And we're a good time, so I'm sure no one will--
Footman: "There is pleasure in the pathless woods," friends. Know what that means?
Milo: Get the fuck out--
Footman: Get the fuck out of here, yes.

[A tall "demon" covered in a large trenchcoat and hat walks up to the entrance.]

Strange Looking Demon: Um, excuse me, uh, fellow-- fellow demon. Make way for Coleco Magnavox, the demon of, uh, foot... hands.

Footman: Right this way, sir.

[The footman opens the door, and the strange looking demon pumps their hands in the air as they walk in.]

Milo: Okay, so... I have another interesting thought. But I want you to promise that you won't make fun of me if it's dumb. They say there's a fine line between madness and genius... And I feel like I might have broken through to the other side. But I'm not totally sure which side I started on.

Lola: Do you really think of me as someone who's looking to humiliate you at every turn?
Milo: You can only pants someone on the jungle gym so many times, Lola. But look--

Lola: Good gawd Milo just say it. I promise not to make fun of you, cross my heart, hope to whatever.
Milo: Okay. I have your word.

Milo: That thing that just went in? I don't think he's a demon. I think people pretend to be demons just to get inside, and we can do the same thing!

Lola: What.

Milo: Think about it! How many tattered curtains and loose skulls have you seen while we've been down here? Hell's like Barney the Clown's Big Top Halloween Shop but less emotionally scarring. So-- so all we need to do is put together a costume-- slash disguise-- and then we come back here and stroll right past this uppity moron. Anyways, I was saying that I think we should disguise ourselves as a demon so--

Lola: So we can sneak into the Sealed Knot, yeah?

Milo: Have I lost you? I did didn't I?

Lola: Milo are you-- are you trying to get us killed? Double killed? What do you think they'll do if they find out we've snuck in?
Milo: What can they do? What-- what, like, what, like make us hold-- hold phone books over our heads while-- While reciting multiplication tables-- your family didn't-- just mine? Okay.

Lola: I mean-- as far fetched as it is, it's not half bad. Almost as good as your instant smores idea.
Milo: Yeah, but this idea won't get ruined by a German microwave.

Milo: Look... We've got nothing else to go on. So why don't we just say that's the plan until something better comes up.

Milo: Let's go shopping.

Lola: Shopping?

Milo: I was trying to-- let's find the materials to make a costume!

Lola: Oh. Sorry.

[As they walk:]

Milo: Hey, so... when you told Sam about how I was going to work with my Mom...

Lola: Yeah?

Milo: You, uh, I don't know... you didn't seem, uh-- or you did seem a little, like... I don't know the word I'm looking for here... Like, uh... Jeez, I need like a thesaurus...

Lola: Uh, did I sound happy for you? Cause I am. I'm happy as a damn clam you're staying behind to buld break away furniture for magician-wrestlers.
Milo: Yeah, you really sound clam-happy, right now-- I mean, you're just-- It's just weird, cause you're the one that's moving, I'm staying in town.

Lola: Annoyed?
Milo: Yeah. Even though, you know... you're the one moving.

Milo: Resentful!
Lola: "Resentful?"
Milo: Well... yeah. Like I'm-- like I'm-- I dunno, like I'm breaking some pact. Even though, you know... you're the one moving.

Lola: What the Hell does that mean?

Milo: It means if anyone should feel, like, betrayed or whatever it's me! Not that either of us do! Or would! Ever.

Lola: Betrayed? Are you joking? This isn't a Harold Pinter production, Milo, I'm not betraying you by moving...
Milo: Okay, I don't even know why I brought it up, it was just your-- your tone back there.

Lola: I'm just living my life, Milo. Or living my truth as my Aunt would say... mostly when she wanted to wear her bra as a belt.
Milo: Okay, I don't even know why I brought it up, it was just your-- your tone back there.

Milo: Alright, fine, I don't even know why I brought it up.

Lola: Well neither do I. We got a lawyer demon to out-sauce, so get fuckin' frosty.

[Milo and Lola can attempt to enter The Sealed Knot again.]

Lola: Uh, have you maybe changed your mind?
Footman: Madam, if I let you enter, what you would witness, what you would experience... Would tear your pathetic minds like chunks of watermelon in a garbage disposal.
Lola: Okay, well... good to know.

Lola: There must be something we can do to convince you to let us in... not-- That could be misinterpreted as-- I'm not taking off my clothes, not even a sock, you fucking pervert, okay-- let's just-- let's establish that, first. God, you make me sick.
Footman: Please stop talking to me.

Lola: Any chance you guys ever have, like, human-night? Like-- like bring your dog to work day or something?
Footman: We do, but it's more of a potluck, if you catch my meaning.
Milo: I don't, and furthermore I don't want to.

Lola: Busy, busy, busy. Must be a tough job.
Footman: It's actually fairly straightforward.

Upper Floors[]

[Milo and Lola can examine the Great Hall of Cosmic Justice.]

Milo: The Karma Magistratus-- the Great Hall of Cosmic Justice.

Lola: I wonder what kind of cases they see. You'd think this stuff would be worked out pretty well in advance.

Milo: Uh, it's probably, like, people who brag a little too much about getting a good parking space, you know? Like... do they deserve to be tortured in Hell for--

Lola: Yes.

[To the left, Milo and Lola can look at the Giant Gate of Hell.]

Milo: The sign says that the giant door is the... the Eighty Segventh Propylaeum to the Nine Circles. "Yamaloka. One of the many doorways to Hell. Hours are cockcrow to eventide."

Lola: And if all goes to plan we'll be telling Weekly World News all about it well before, uh, cockcrow.

Milo: Yeah, I really don't need to see what's on the other side.

[Milo and Lola can look at The Hole Where Satan Fell in the courthouse.]

Lola: "The Unchase Crater." It says it's where Satan landed when God threw him out of Heaven.

Milo: Yeah, looks like he left a big hole.

Lola: I think he's calling it "Unchase" because God was being rude.

[On the far right, Milo and Lola can go upstairs again to the third floor, where they can look at the war memorial.]

Lola: "Commemorating the Fallen in the War Against the Sons of Light By the Lords of Darkness."

Meeting Lutzelfrau[]

[As they go right, they come across Lutzelfrau.]

Lutzelfrau: --no, it's one cup, mashed up nose weevil, half cup body butter-- Three eggs.

Demon Punter: What kinda eggs?

Lutzelfrau: Uh, soft-shelled turtles if they're in season. A little flour. Hateful flour.

Demon Punter: Uh huh, and what about--

Lutzelfrau: And then we skin fry some unicorns and toss them in oil.

Demon Punter: Sounds great, I'll take one.

[Lutzelfrau goes to her cart, gets a kebab, and returns.]

Lutzelfrau: Here you go.

[The demon bites the kebab.]

Demon Punter: I regret having that.

Lutzelfrau: We're still working out the recipe.

[Milo and Lola can choose to speak to Lutzelfrau.]

Lutzelfrau: Oh, drunk children! Drunk children, please-- take some treats from treat-cart! I'm Lutzelfrau, and my charming Germanic witch recipes will surely soak up all that Hellcohol!

Milo: We're not drunk.

Lutzelfrau: Then pretend, okay? The rabble here is more discerning than Lutzelfrau expected. They don't serve Lava Blasters, here, so everyone still has their taste buds. Help a Lutzelfrau out, alright?

Lola: Whatever. I'll have, uh, that-- that, uh, hamster-looking... uh, food?
Lutzelfrau: Sure thing! One fried and candied rat, coming right up.
Lola: Actually... on second thought, I think I'd prefer to keep my stomach lining...
Lutzelfrau: 'Second thoughts' are for bungee jumping in Arkansas, sweetheart, now keep it movin' if you don't want any.

Lola: Okay, well, slow down here a minute, then. We're you know, intelligent people and intelligent people require some measure of--
[Skip to "Milo and Lola must eventually have spoken with the footman and speak to Lutzelfrau, and make a request."]

Lola: You're literally a stranger with candy... and a demon, so we've hit the Daily Double. Thanks but no thanks.
Candy Demon: [drunkenly] Wooooo! Lutzelfrau! You got-- this chick's got-- she makes the best cubanos, honestly, man.
Lutzelfrau: I don't make cubanos. I'm a sorceress from the Black Hills, asshole.
Candy Demon: Lutzelfrauuuuu-- yeah!

Lutzelfrau: I do have an assortment of deli meats as well.
Milo: I think we're good for now.
Candy Demon: [drunkenly] Wooooo! Lutzelfrau! You got-- this chick's got-- she makes the best cubanos, honestly, man.
Lutzelfrau: I don't make cubanos. I'm a sorceress from the Black Hills, asshole.
Candy Demon: Lutzelfrauuuuu-- yeah!

[They can speak with her again.]

(1st time)
(2nd time)
(3rd time)
(1st time)

Lutzelfrau: You want one of Lutzelfrau's luminous candies?
Lola: I, uh-- sure--?
Milo: No. We're good.

(2nd time)

Lutzelfrau: Oh, want to-- to taste the sweet nectar of Lutzelfrau's cat cakes?
Milo: Mmmm, maybe--?
Lola: No! We-- we keep forgetting this is gross, okay, sorry-- you're-- you're just gross. I'm sorry.

(3rd time)

Lutzelfrau: Oh ho! Want some candy! You do, don't you! You wouldn't keep coming back here if you didn't!
Lola: You-- you know what? I think I do want some--
Milo: No! We don't want any candy! Stop trying to get us to eat candy!
Lola: Who are you talking to?
Milo: Her! Who else would I be talking to.

Lola: Uh, Lutzelfrau...
Lutzelfrau: Yessssss.
Milo: We, uh, we want to-- look, we'll eat your diarrhea candy, but we have a request...
[Continue to "Milo and Lola must eventually have spoken with the footman and speak to Lutzelfrau, and make a request."]

[Milo and Lola must eventually have spoken with the footman and speak to Lutzelfrau, and make a request.]

Lutzelfrau: God, you selfish little pricks-- You'll shut down the borders if a cumquat slips past Mexico but you have to barter with my shit. Just tell Lutzelfrau what you want! Or begone, quickly!

Lola: Your respect!... Wait, why the fuck did I say that.
Lutzelfrau: Done!
Milo: No! We want your-- Lola, we need her dress, Jesus.

Lola: Your dress! It's so... I've just never seen this fabric before. And it's so hard to go thrift store shopping in Hell without a purse.

Milo: Uh, we want-- I think your dress is most what we need, to be-- to be honest.

Lutzelfrau: Ahhh, what an eye you have. The fabric is a mesh sewn from the hair of children born during an eclipse. You can only acquire it through mazoku rituals or Thursday-night specials at Kohl's. For this, you'll need to sell your love for Lutzelfrau's treats good, my dear.

Lola: Gimme, uh, just gimme your least disgusting piece of crap.

Milo: But not, uh, not literal... poop. Please.

Lola: Right. Good catch.

Lutzelfrau: Uh... what's the hold up. Everything is made fresh right from Lutzelfrau's oven.

[Lola eats one of the witch's treats.]
Lutzelfrau: Oh, so you like Lutzelfrau's Ebola-bellied rats, do you my dear?!
[Lola is visibly sick.]

Oooh god it's so fuckin' good!
It's the best!
(Say nothing.)
Oooh god it's so fuckin' good!

Lola: [chewing in agony] Ooooh my dear Jesus, it's-- it's so damn good, I can't-- I can't even-- [resists throwing up]

It's the best!

Lola: [chewing, in agony] Aw, yeah, d-- dawg, it's the-- it's the fuckin'-- bomb-- [resists throwing up]

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Uhhghg... ghmfhm..mphh.
Milo: Boy, you're in flavor heaven right now, aren't-- aren't you, L-- Lola? So much in Heaven you can't even express your love for the disgusting food?

(Say nothing.)
(Say nothing.)

Milo: Fine, I'll-- I'll just do it.
Lola: Milo--

[Milo eats one of the witch's treats.]
Lutzelfrau: Oh, so you like Lutzelfrau's Ebola-bellied rats, do you my dear?!
[Milo is visibly sick.]

It's so damn delicious!
Aww I love eating it!
(Say nothing.)
It's so damn delicious!

Milo: Oh-- oh Lord in Heaven, it's-- my face-- it's so-- so delicious--

Aww I love eating it!

Milo: Aww, sh-- shit, son, this-- it's-- fuck, I just love eating it so much--

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Uhhghg... ghmfhm..mphh.
Lola: Man, look at that guy eat that garbage! It's-- he's really going to town! He likes it so-- so much he can't even yell it out loud like he should be!

Candy Demon: Hey, that idiot tried that weird witch's candy!

Candy Human: They love it! Holy shit! Let's go guys, c'mon, let's go get some candy, yeah!

Crowd: Rat candy, wooo!

Lutzelfrau: Oh yes, come all, there's no need to shove-- I have so many sources for my diseased meats!

Milo: Okay, now... the dress, if you please.
Lola: [sick] Give us the-- the dress-- you-- oh God, this-- why was I born.

Lola: Okay, now... hand over the dress.
Milo: [sick] Hand-- hand over the-- the-- please, just-- kill me, please, Lola, quickly.

Lutzenfrau: Okay, follow Lutzelfrau. And smile, dipshits, you're on camera, alright? So no samples while I'm gone.

[Lutzelfrau, Milo, and Lola go behind the candy cart.]

Lutzenfrau: So... you're sharing, I presume. Who's gonna be the head and who's gonna be the tail.

[The crowd steals all of the candy from the cart and runs off.]

Milo: Oh-- oh yeah. You're, like, way taller, aren't you.

Lola: Weight and good taste dictate I get on top. Hope you're cool with that...

Milo: Yeah, of course I'm cool with it. I was embarrassed to be the top cheerleader on the pyramid in Junior High--

Lola: Well I was embarrassed for you for other, closely related reasons, but, yeah--

[Milo and Lola exit the cart stacked on each other, wearing Lutzelfrau's coat and hat. Lola pumps her hands in the air.]

Lola: Tada!

Lutzenfrau: I'll be honest... I wouldn't let you buy Lutzelfrau a drink.

[Lutzelfrau turns around to see the cart empty.]

Lutzelfrau: Those mother-- Hell is really filled with cock-knockers, you know, you wouldn't-- you wouldn't think it, but there it is.

Lola: Whoa, stop wiggling your shoulders so much, it's-- your skull is pressed up against my junk--

Milo: I'm sorry, it's-- I don't want to say you're heavy, but... You're... uh... not... that... easy to carry?

Lola: Hey, it's not too late to switch, okay, if little mister, "Of course I'm fine with it, of course I'm cool with it--"
Milo: Of course it's too late! And I am cool with it! If a demon sees us change, it's-- we're screwed, so... let's-- I'll press on, we're pressing on.

Lola: Watch. It. Not kidding.
Milo: I'm not saying-- just forget it, it's fine, you're light as a feather, a hummingbird feather.

Milo: Just... take it easy, stop humping my neck--

Lola: I am not humping your neck--

Milo: Stop rubbing your crotch on my neck--

Lola: How do you think I can stay on!? I'm-- just forget it. Tally ho, tally-- tally forth, let's just get to the bar, okay, let's get to Polly.

[Milo and Lola must return to the footman at The Sealed Knot, where Andy and Roberto are arriving.]

Andy: We're meeting Apollyon in there, Footman. You can stow the human in the carry-on.

Footman: I'll, uh, have to check with the owner--

Andy: Then check with him! I got less than an hour till trial.

Roberto: Ciao! Ragazzo! Another beautiful day in Hell! You seem like a well-to-do Demon, very put-together, upscale, like a--a camel. Perhaps you know Andrealphus? Andy? He is my handler.

Lola: It's us, Roberto. The humans from earlier, Milo and Lola. We're in disguise!
Roberto: Belle arte... wonderful craftsmanship, truly.

(Helped Roberto)
(Didn't)
(Helped Roberto)

Roberto: Good luck to you, my dear hair friends. My hair thanks you.

(Didn't)

Roberto: Such bravery! I see now why you were too good to help me in my time of desperate need.

Lola: Shut your piehole, hu--human, before I-- I demon all over your Goddamn thyroid.
Roberto: Oh, my apologies. Scuse-- but you-- you sound very familiar.
Milo: Coincidence.
Roberto: Okay!

Roberto: My apologies for making noise in your proximity.

Andy: Shut up and leave that handsome demon alone!

Footman: Okay, you guys are all set. She's in the back.

Andy: Move. Walk straight to the kitchen and get into the flour drawer.

Roberto: Of course, of course...

[Roberto and Andy enter The Sealed Knot, and the door shuts behind the. Milo and Lola must speak to the footman.]

Footman: Good evening, madam. Right this way.

Lola: Good man.
Footman: Oh I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were a woman at first.
Lola: [sigh]

Lola: Avert your eyes, serf! I was braining insurance agents when you were still suckling at your dragon's teet!
Footman: Oh I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were a woman at first.
Lola: [sigh]

Milo: Get ready to see some wild shit.

[They enter.]

The Sealed Knot[]

Milo: Let's try not to draw any more attention to ourselves than we need to.

Lola: Okay, but don't talk anymore. Demon's guys can't speak. I don't think.

[Near the entrance, Delbert and Gerald are sitting in chairs around a cauldron filled with human body parts.]

Delbert: We're gonna need a refill! And, uh, something to fish out the teeth.

[The bartender teleports from the bar to the table and pours something into the cauldron.]

Gerald: What're you, saving up for college?

Bartender: Huh?

Gerald: There's not enough liquor in my liquor.

Apollyon: Gerald.

Gerald: Y-yes?

Apollyon: Why don't you give Father Barleycorn here a break, alright?

Gerald: Okay, fine. Sorry, Barley, didn't know you didn't know how to make a drink.

Bartender: It's alright, Jerry. Thank you, Judge Apollyon.

[The bartender teleports back to the bar.]

Lola: Holy shit, the-- the Monarch-- Apollyon. She's right there. I can-- I can see her.

Milo: Okay, well, it's-- it's hard to really walk, uh, steadily--

Lola: Just take it slow. And don't draw attention to yourself-- ourselves.

The Sealed Knot Bar Options[]

[Milo and Lola can go up to the bartender.]

(1st time)

Bartender: Oh, you gettin' sick?
Lola: Why do you, uh, ask?
Bartender: Cause you sound like you got a baby stuck in your throat with that nasally human voice. It's Hell flu season, so... I just wanna know if I should put on a mask.

No, I'm fine, thank you.
What's Hell flu season?
Fuck off. (Liquid Courage)
I might be sick! (Witty Vaudevillian)
Being sick is for poor people. (Rich Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
No, I'm fine, thank you.

Lola: No, I'm-- I'm doing just fine, just-- just snorted too much, uh, Hell cocaine before I got here?
Bartender: "Hell cocaine?" That sounds like something two humans disguised as one gangly demon would say.

What's Hell flu season?

Lola: What's, uh, what's Hell flu season?
Bartender: Um, I would think even two human beings disguised as one demon would be able to infer what that means.

Fuck off. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Fuck off and mind your business. Your job is to get me drunk, not to tell me I need to take my daily vitamins.
Bartender: "Daily vitamins?" That sounds like something two humans disguised as one gangly demon would say.

I might be sick! (Witty Vaudevillian)

Lola: Hey, I might be sick! It was so cold in my apartment, I chipped my tooth on my soup!
Bartender: Huh. That sounds like something two idiot humans disguised as one gangly demon would say.

ddddddd (Rich Asshole)

Lola: Uh, demons like me don't get sick, pal. My insurance would cover a small nation of very unhealthy people.
Bartender: Your "insurance," huh? That sounds like something two people disguised as one demon would say.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: [coughs]
Bartender: Um, your stomach just coughed. Which sounds like something two people disguised as one gangly demon would do...

Bartender: [laughing] Not that that would ever happen! Oh, oh man, that would be a sight.
Lola: Okay, we have our drink. Let's party with the paralegals.

[Milo and Lola can speak to the strange looking demon, seated by the bar.]

Strange Looking Demon: Hello, fellow-- fellow spectres of malevolence. Can I-- can I help you with something?

Lola: This is funny. We look, uh, we look pretty similar. Right? Dontcha think?
Strange Looking Demon: Yeah. Uh, classic summer style down here, right?

Lola: How's your, uh... how's your night been so far?
Strange Looking Demon: Good. How's, uh, how's your night going?
Lola: Good, good.
Strange Looking Demon: Good, good. Then we are both... good.

Lola: Hey, uh, Coleco. Don't tell anyone, but... I'm not a real demon, either.
Strange Looking Demon: Oh, I see. So, since Coleco Magnavox, Stabber of Annoying Tourists, has a bit of a lazy eye-- Coleco Magnavox ain't a real demon!
Lola: Uh, no, I--
Strange Looking Demon: If I wanted to be insulted I'd have stayed at home and asked my roommate to have dinner with me again!

Lola: So... a woman walks into a bar, looking a little down. Bartender asks her what the problem is. The woman says, 'I think I have to get a divorce.' Bartender asks why. The woman says, 'Well, my husband has a twin-- And I ended up making love to him by mistake.' The bartender says, 'C'mon, that's an easy fix. Surely there must be some difference between the two men. 'You'd better believe there's a difference,' the woman says. 'That's why I want the divorce.'
Strange Looking Demon: Sex isn't everything.
Lola: Yeah, no-- I know, it's-- it's just a joke.
Strange Looking Demon: I only really like jokes where people get hurt somehow.

Lola: Hey, so... what kinda name is Coleco, anyway?
Strange Looking Demon: It's Irkallic. I was born from the unjust killing of a wild boar.
Lola: Oh, uh... cool.

Strange Looking Demon: Well... take care.

[Milo and Lola can walk into the back room, where multiple nude or partially nude demons are engaging in censored sexual acts.]

Lola: Whoa, this-- we took a turn somewhere cause, ugh, gross, guys!

Milo: Wh-- what's going on?! I can't-- I can't see! Why does it smell like my grandmother's basement?

Lola: Man, thank God I'm on top-- your delicate sensibilities could not have handled this, Milo. They're doing things with their bodies that only starfish should get away with.

Milo: Aw, I hate being on bottom!

[Lola can look at the demons again.]

Lola: Boy, this is-- I should take notes. They should let more people in here-- Whoever can't see this is really missing out.

Milo: Thanks.

Conversation with Apollyon, Andy, Gerald, & Delbert[]

Lola: Hi, uh, mind if-- mind if we--

Gerald: Smell that? Smells like a-- a pancreas, right? Like a human's gut line?

Milo: Lola, let's-- I-- I don't think I can do this, Lola--

Gerald: Did you say something? Could have sworn I heard something.

Lola: Hey, uh, he who-- who smelt it, dealt it, right? Haha, right?
Gerald: And he who denied it, supplied it, so where you been washin' your fuckin' nuts, buddy?
[Andy comes in and sits down.]
Andy: And he who revealed it, peeled it, so enough, Gerald, calm down.
Delbert: Actually, you know what guys, I don't think it's the cigars.

Lola: I, uh, didn't hear anything.
Gerald: You might not of heard somethin', but you surely said something.
[Andy comes in and sits down.]
Andy: [chuckling] He's saying he didn't hear anything, Gerald, calm down.
Delbert: Actually, you know what guys, I don't think it's the cigars.

Lola: I'm pretty sure the cigar fumes must be getting to you. Might wanna think about goin' outside, getting some fresh air.
Gerald: 'Fresh air?' You mean outside? That shit's half chlorine, half skunk, half dying turtle vomit.
Delbert: Actually, you know what guys, I don't think it's the cigars.

Lola: Hey, that, uh, that reminds me-- what did, uh, what did one eye say to the other? Between you and me, something smells!
Gerald: Ah, you must be the clown my ex-wife ordered me for our anniversary.
Delbert: Actually, you know what guys, I don't think it's the cigars.

Lola: I'm not quite ready to order yet, plebe. Give us-- give me a minute.
Gerald: Oh, fuck you, pal, you think I'm the help?
[Andy comes in and sits down.]
Andy: [chuckling] With that suit, why wouldn't he?
Delbert: Actually, you know what guys, I don't think it's the cigars.

Gerald: Maybe it's just Andy's change in his pocket... I've never heard quarters so loud!

[If Andy didn't come in earlier, he walks in and sits.]

Gerald: By Mephistopheles' beard, this place is just goin' to dung beetles, isn't it? Shit, in its heyday? I'd be havin' horse hay shoved up my penis hole by now... but today, I'm stuck debating the rotten odors of humanity with you jackanapes.

Andy: Yeah, and we don't foxtrot as much as we used to, either. I apologize on behalf of my friend here. He's not usually this... splenetic.

Gerald: That's not a real word.

Andy: Ill-tempered, spiteful. Buy a thesaurus.

Gerald: You buy a thesaurus!

Lola: Oh no need to apologize, I-- I agree, actually. I thought there were gonna be like, demons stapling people's tongues to cats, dancing in a-- in a pool of human heartache.
Andy: No, they'd never fill a pool of it-- that stuff's like five hundred a bottle.

Lola: So... just out of curiosity... what did this bar used to be like, then?
Gerald: Oh, crazy--
Delbert: Crazy. Go ahead--
Gerald: It was crazy. Sex, drugs, and classical music by trained, multi-limbed chimerical beings.
Delbert: I mean, we still have the Chamber of Coitus, but... what's a Chamber of Coitus without a Sphinx on piano?

What are you reading, Polly? (Liquid Courage)
He needs a muzzle, right, Polly? (Witty Vaudevillian)
How do you stand him, Polly? (Rich Asshole)
What are you reading, Polly? (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Um, not to completely change subjects, but... Apollyon, what are you, uh, what are you reading over there? Looking at pictures of succulents? That's what I'm normally on my, uh, phone for...

He needs a muzzle, right, Polly? (Witty Vaudevillian)

Lola: It'd be best to put this one in a muzzle, I think... right, Polly?

How do you stand him, Polly? (Rich Asshole)

Lola: God, how do you stand this garish oaf, Polly?
Gerald: Hey, watch who you call an oaf. That's one letter from Loaf and I do not like bread.

[A pause.]
Apollyon: Do I know you.
Milo: [swallows]

I think maybe we've met...?
Nope.
We met at Jim Jum's party! (Liquid Courage)
This makes me think of a joke! (Witty Vaudevillian)
You'd remember if you did. (Rich Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
I think maybe we've met...?

Lola: I think that maybe we've met before... maybe waiting in line for coffee somewhere?
Apollyon: I don't think so.

Nope.

Lola: Uh, no, actually, you, uh, you don't.
Andy: Well, that's what bars are for, aren't they? Meeting, uh, interesting things such as yourself in a demon's downtime.

We met at Jim Jum's party! (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Oh, totally, we met at Jim Jum's, uh, St. Patty's Day Party? You know, the, uh, the Lil' Easter Rising! We took shots on the terrace? I think Beelzebub was probably complaining about... work or something?
Andy: [laughing] Sounds like our Beezle! Can't take a piss without clocking out his timesheet.

This makes me think of a joke! (Witty Vaudevillian)

Lola: Hey, I mean... maybe you did? When I told my doctor about my memory loss, she made me pay in advance!
Delbert: [chuckling]
Gerald: Don't.
Delbert: Okay.

You'd remember if you did. (Rich Asshole)

Lola: If you did, you'd remember, trust me. It's not everyday you get to meet someone who wears two watches to bed.

(Say nothing.)

Andy: Well, hey, isn't this what bars are for? Meeting, uh, interesting things such as yourself in a demon's downtime.

Andy: I already own a thesaurus, that's how I knew what the word means.
Gerald: Oh save me, Antichrist Jesus, before I fall into another conversation about thesauruses with this man.

Gerald: Alright, I'm gonna reload. Anybody want another?

Lola: Yeah, I'll take a Hoard and Squander.

Lola: Uh, the Blue Devil-- um, please.

Lola: Um, one Grand Exhibitionist for me, please.

Lola: Uh, I'll get a Hearse Chaser.

Gerald: Yeah yeah, okay, got it. I'll be back.

[Gerald leaves to get drinks.]

Andy: Well, I guess introductions are in order. I'm Andrealphus. Defense attorney-- friends call me Andy. That's Delbert, my paralegal. No one calls him anything.

[Wormhorn teleports in.]

Wormhorn: And I'm Sister Mary Wormhorn, new lead counsel for the Who Gives A Shit Firm of I'm Making This Up! How's everyone doing?

Andy: Oh, uh... good.

Wormhorn: And how are you doing, stranger. Did anyone-- no one caught this fella's name, yet, right?

Andy: Uh, no, we were just getting to it. But I feel like I've seen you before.

Lola: My name's Lutzelfrau.
Wormhorn: Lutzelfrau? Really.
Andy: Oh, you're a witch, right? I think I've heard of you. She's the one who makes pies out of kittens and washes her clothes in, uh, what-- what was it--
Wormhorn: Feces.
Andy: Ah, feces, right.
Apollyon: Lutzelfrau, I'm a, uh, total recipe hound... Tell me... what's your secret ingredient for those candy apples, again?
Delbert: Oh, yes, please indulge us.
Andy: It'd help out my mother's cooking, I'll tell you that much.

Uh, candy and, uh, apples?
It's a secret, so...
Something horrible, probably. (Liquid Courage)
Boy, do I have a joke for this! (Witty Vaudevillian)
You couldn't afford it. (Rich Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
Uh, candy and, uh, apples?

Lola: Oh, uh, candy... you know, that much is obvious. But the apples part, don't, uh, don't forget the-- the apples.

It's a secret, so...

Lola: Well... as you say... it's a secret, so. Wouldn't really stay that way if I told you, would it?

Something horrible, probably. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Well, I am a witch and we are in Hell, so... probably something horrible, right? Like orphan brains or-- or the eyeballs of a cute waiter or something?

Boy, do I have a joke for this! (Witty Vaudevillian)

Lola: Hey, uh, nevermind that, but if you're looking to hire a good cook, I can offer you some advice... Never take on a little chef. The steaks are too high!
Andy: Huh. Makes sense both literally and figuratively.

You couldn't afford it. (Rich Asshole)

Lola: Trust me, even if I told you, it wouldn't help. It's a bit outside your price range.

(Say nothing.)

Andy: It's alright, let's not overwhelm the poor witch, here. She's clearly very old.

Lola: Um, Scuttlebutt?
Wormhorn: Scuttlebutt? Really.
Andy: The Scuttlebutt? Major General Scuttlebutt?
Milo: Wait, this is a real person...?
Apollyon: Major. It's a pleasure to meet you. While you were serving on the Northern flanks, I was fighting the Imperial Eagle in Heaven's Sixth Sphere. Remind me, again... how was the combat in the Fixed Stars?
Delbert: Oh, I love a good war story.
Andy: Yes, General, please, regail us.

Oh, uh, a piece of cake!
I don't like to talk about it.
I'm horribly deformed, can't you tell! (Liquid Courage)
Boy, do I have a joke for this! (Witty Vaudevillian)
I napped, mostly. (Rich Asshole)
(Say nothing.)
Oh, uh, a piece of cake!

Lola: Oh, piece of-- piece of cake, it was-- there were a lot of trumpets and wailing but nothing on' Scuttlebutt couldn't handle!

I don't like to talk about it.

Lola: You know, Apollyon, with all due respect-- I really don't like to talk about my deeply felt psychological and emotional scars stemming from a war against our Creator. I'm sure you understand.

I'm horribly deformed, can't you tell! (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Well, as I'm sure you can judge by my terrifying countenance, shit didn't really roll my way up there, did it?

Boy, do I have a joke for this! (Witty Vaudevillian)

Lola: Uh, how was it? Well kinda like me sitting in this bar... you know... we all got bombed!
Andy: It's weird that angels would use bombs but, uh, for the joke, I'll accept it.

I napped, mostly. (Rich Asshole)

Lola: Oh, I uh, I napped, mostly. We had foot soldiers for that sort of thing.
Andy: What sort of thing?
Lola: Uh, you know, dying.

(Say nothing.)

Andy: It's alright, let's not overwhelm the poor General, here.

Lola: Hey, you know what? Fuck it, I'm a person--
Andy: A Purson. Abraxus Purson? Of the fourth circle? I didn't recognize you without the, uh, the headdress.
Wormhorn: Oh, give me a break--
Apollyon: Abraxus. I'm glad we're running into you-- I know my brother, Beelzebub, was going to ask for a report on the latest tortures. What is the fourth circle doing these days about people who were miserly?
Delbert: Oh yeah, I'd be curious, too.

No idea, not my department.
Uh, beating them, probably?
Stuffing them into coin wrappers. (Liquid Courage/Rich Asshole)
Boy, do I have a joke for this! (Witty Vaudevillian)
(Say nothing.)
No idea, not my department.

Lola: Uh, sorry, Apollyon, but that's a little out of my paygrade. I only whip what the higher-ups tell me to whip.

Uh, beating them, probably?

Lola: Oh, uh, beating them. Probably? I mean, what else are you gonna do to people who stole their roommate's napkins?

Stuffing them into coin wrappers. (Liquid Courage/Rich Asshole)

Lola: Well, last I heard, they were stuffing them into those little coin wrappers-- that are so hard to open without spilling all your laundry quarters all over the stupid bank floor.

Boy, do I have a joke for this! (Witty Vaudevillian)

Lola: Hey, it's so hard, you know, to really make a dent into these guys. I mean... these misers are so cheap they don't even pay attention!
Andy: Uh huh, yeah, we should get better community management for the fourth circle, I think.

(Say nothing.)

Andy: It's alright, let's not overwhelm the poor demon here. He's clearly very old.

Milo: Ugh, we're Milo and--
Andy: [sneezes]
Delbert: Fuck you.
Andy: Thank you. So your name is Miloand. Great. Nice to meet you.

[Gerald returns.]

Gerald: God, the jackhole in front of me couldn't decide between a bitter or an ale.

Andy: Hey, look who it is-- Gerald, I'd like you to meet Lutzelfrau.
Gerald: Ah, the Witch of the Black Forest. Nice to meet ya.

Delbert: There was a rumor going around that you had become a pathetic vagrant, pooping himself and sleeping outside-- Well, take it from me, General Scuttlebutt, I'm very glad to know that that's obviously not the case.
Gerald: You're General Major Scuttlebutt? Uh, pleasure. Didn't know.

Andy: Hey, look who it is-- Gerald, I'd like you to meet Abraxus Quincy Purson Esquire... Junior.
Delbert: MD.
Andy: MD, right.
Gerald: Uh, pleasure.

Gerald: So anyway, Lori stayed out all hours with Satan and Caligula last night...

Delbert: *chuckling* Oh no--

Gerald: So of course, the monster didn't show up for her shift this morning-- so guess who had to butcher three hundred humans by hand?

Andy: Gerald-- seriously, pick your spots man. We're trying to relax, and you keep bringing up work.

Gerald: I'm sorry. We can't all be fancy lawyers. Some of us have real jobs.

Wormhorn: Don't we all! I think our new friend probably knows something about that.

Wormhorn: Where are you working now, Lutzelfrau?

Wormhorn: Where are you working now, Major Scuttlebutt?

Wormhorn: Where are you working now, Abraxus Purson Esquire Whatever?

Wormhorn: Where are you working now, Miloand?

Delbert: I was just about to ask the same question.

Lola: You bootlickers sure do love to-- to talk about work, don't you! Can't-- can't get enough of your jobs. What a weird word, job. Sounds like something-- sounds like a, a weird kind of animal, right^[11] "Can't talk, honey, goin' job hunting!" Wait, that is something people say--

Lola: Duh! I work in your department, Wormhorn!
Wormhorn: Oh do you.
Lola: Yeah. Don't you, uh, don't you recognize me?
Wormhorn: Yeah... I do recognize you. Wait, shoot-- go back, start over from, "I work in your department--"

I'm in the, uh... the pants department. Slacks, mostly. Shorts if I'm feeling, uh, frisky.
Gerald: 'Pants'? Can't say I've ever heard of that--
Delbert: Are you with the satyrs?
Wormhorn: Yeah, what floor of fucking K-Mart is that on again?

Lola: Oh, where do I work? You know, I-- I had to call out sick this morning because of an eye problem... I couldn't see myself working today!
Wormhorn: [laughing] Alright, you got me, that was-- that was an okay one.

Lola: Well, let me be clear, I don't actually, you know, work. Not with my-- not with my body, per say, I'm more... conceptually driven, I... come up with things. And people invest... and, you know... the Chinese markets?
Gerald: Ohhh. Got it.
Wormhorn: Got what?!

Wormhorn: What is it? Can't remember what you put on your rental applications?

Apollyon: Okay, cats and kittens. Trial's in a few. In the Courtyard, yes? I'll trust you all to finish your drinks on time.

Andy: Yes ma'am.

Apollyon: Alright. I'll be in back if anyone needs anything.

[Apollyon leaves.]

Gerald: I gotta go, uh, destroy the bathroom. But maybe I'll catch up with you guys, later.

Wormhorn: Wait, guys-- Polly, isn't-- aren't-- Errghgh-- oh you must think you're just the cock of the walk, don't you? Well you might be the cock of the walk but I'm the... chalk... of the damn... talk-- ergh, whatever, bye!

Andy: It's been strange... Polly's been really busy with something, lately-- something secretive... But... I'm sorry, are we keeping you? Your wonky eye was kind of following Polly for a moment, there.

What'd he do?
(Say nothing.)
What'd he do?

Lola: No no, go on about your, uh, your boss.

(Say nothing.)

Delbert: Just-- what is it, go on.

Andy: Well, I shouldn't really be talking about this, but... you know our client, Roberto Spaghetti? I think he's Dutch... but anyways, the kid swears up and down that he's innocent. Like, to a degree that's unusual for down here. But Polly... she seems more interested in Satan's affairs.
Delbert: Affairs?
Andy: It's just... Lucifer's been... Hell hasn't been a source of inspiration for a while. Demons and people aren't exactly skipping to work. It's not fun, anymore. And it used to be. It should be. We all know it-- and I think-- I just think Polly's maybe possibly looking for a-- let's call it a promotion... If you can read between the lines, here.
Delbert: I'm... following. I think.

She wants to run Hell?
Like a hostile takeover?
She wants to run Hell?

Lola: Wait wait wait. Polly wants to run Hell? Why the fuck would anybody want to do that?
Andy: Oh, I don't know-- the publicity, the fame, the-- the hedge fund managers sacrificing hookers to you every day? And, you know-- it's horrible to say, but she has a good heart. And Hell doesn't have to just be about what went wrong. It can be about... other things, too.

Like a hostile takeover?

Lola: What, like a-- like a hostile takeover? How would that even work?
Andy: Beelzebub's been running things for practically a millenia, now, and... Satan-- if he's not careful, he's looking for another fall.

Delbert: We shouldn't be talking about this, Andy. She's just in the other room.
Andy: Alright, alright. I should get back to work, anyway. Courthouse opens soon.

Lola: Yeah, that's really interesting guys, but I gotta go, actually. D-- Demon stuff.
Andy: Oh! Okay, well-- come back later if you want a break from whatever it is that's so important.
Lola: Yeah, we... uh, probably won't.

Delbert: It was nice meeting you.

[Andy and Delbert teleport away.]

Milo: Alright, we successfully pretended to be an incorporeal, malevolent being.

Lola: Yeah, I wouldn't print that out on a certificate or anything.

(Said "What'd he do?")

Milo: That's kinda nuts about Apollyon, though... Like what if we're standing on the precipice of a coup? Right? I know I shouldn't get, like, excited about it... But.

No, it's nuts!
Let's not get distracted.
(Say nothing.)
No, it's nuts!

Lola: Yeah, no it's crazy! I thought it was a lot to handle when those two fast food restaurants were smashing bottles in each other's parking lots.
Milo: Yeah. I don't know if I wanna be around when, uh, stuff starts happening.
Lola: Let's just find Apollyon and outdrink the judge...
Milo: Yeah, I think she went in back? Let's, uh, take a look...

Let's not get distracted.

Lola: Yeah, let's-- let's not get distracted from the, uh, the smaller picture, here. We just wanna get home, not necessarily involved in any inter-demon, corporate power struggles, here...
Lola: Let's just find Apollyon and outdrink the judge...
Milo: Yeah, I think she went in back? Let's, uh, take a look...

(Say nothing.)

Milo: It's still kinda... kinda nuts. Alright, let's find where Apollyon scampered off to.

Conversation with Apollyon[]

[Milo and Lola must go to the back room, where Apollyon waits at a table as a naked man dances in a cage suspended from the ceiling.]

Meowing Man: Meow

Apollyon: "Lying... is an accursed vice. It is only our words that bind us together and make us human." That's Montaigne, about a dozen years before he died of tongue paralysis...

Meowing Man: Meow

Apollyon: Everyone says God is a humorist, but what they really mean is... he's a sadist. It's sometimes easy to confuse the two.

Apollyon: Wouldn't you agree... Lutzelfrau?

Apollyon: Wouldn't you agree... Major Scuttlebutt?

Apollyon: Wouldn't you agree... Abraxas Quincy Purson?

Apollyon: Wouldn't you agree... Miloand?

Lola: I-- don't really know what you could be getting at here...

Lola: Oh certainly, I couldn't agree more. Humans are the worst. Is that-- is that what you're saying?

Lola: I'd like to maybe thing about this longer than you might expect...

Lola: Hey, I got a joke for ya-- I'm tall, right? I'm like fucking tall-- people used to say I'd trip on a rock and hit the moon, right?
Meowing Man: Meow
Lola: You can-- you can see it if you--

Lola: Can I possibly pay like the waiter or something to come in here and just give you the answer you want?

[Apollyon snaps, and Milo and Lola's costume disappears. Lola jumps off of Milo's back.]

Milo: Oof-- ugh-- God... My knees are gonna be angry at me tomorrow.

Lola: Okay, the-- the jig is-- thoroughly up, I -- we can see when the cards just aren't falling. We'll just-- be on our way, now...

Lola: Hey, you-- you sorcerer, you turned me-- a demon-- into two separaet, adorable human beings!

Lola: Okay, yeah, fuck this-- we can explain...

Lola: Well, ha ha, isn't this-- isn't this interesting! Reminds me of a-- of an old, uh, 'You might be a redneck' joke, it goes...

Lola: I think my driver is-- double parked in a handicap zone so maybe it is time for me to get the fuck out...

Apollyon: We didn't meet in line, waiting for coffee...

Apollyon: We didn't meet at Jim Jum's St. Patrick's Day Party, though he does usually throw a fun one.

Apollyon: You were wrong, before-- we do know each other. Know of each other, at least.

Apollyon: You're Lola and Milo-- heirs presumptive to the amber throne. The King and Queen of Hellcohol, by the grace of Lucifer and his partying realms and puking territories... you should be very proud to have made it this far.

[Apollyon snaps and makes their drinks disappear.]

Milo: My drink!

Apollyon: But this is as far as you go.

Milo: A-Apollyon... Please we-- we-- uh...

Lola: Okay, look, your-- your Honor, we just want your Seal. Okay? We-- we won't tell anyone what-- what we saw in here, or-- or anywhere in Hell... for that matter.
Milo: Yes, w-we'll-- we'll forget all about the stuff that is permanently burned into my retinas.
Apollyon: I could not care any less how many podcasts you do when you get back, child.

Lola: Your Honor, please, I--I know this looks bad, but-- b-believe us, we really don't belong here.
Milo: Yeah, I know we just got exposed as confirmed liars and- and identity thieves, but...

(Spoke with Andy about Polly's plans)

Apollyon: Did my... consorts discuss with you any plans I may be concocting to... replace Lucifer as the Devil? Think before you answer, please.

Yes, they did.
No, not at all!
(Say nothing.)
Yes, they did.

Lola: Yes, they-- they did.
Apollyon: Yes, they did. [Sighs] They gossip worse than swine in a slaughterhouse. You are forgetting you ever heard any such story. Correct?
Milo: Uh... will do. I mean-- what story?

No, not at all!

Lola: Nope! Not at all, you can trust those guys to--
Apollyon: Yes, they did.
Meowing Man: [Hiss]

(Say nothing.)

Milo: No, we haven't heard, uh, anything like that-- do you remember, Lola, hearing anything like that...
Apollyon: Yes, they did.
Meowing Man: [Hiss]

Apollyon: They gossip worse than swine in a slaughterhouse. You are forgetting you ever heard any such story. Correct?
Milo: Uh... will do. I mean-- what story?

Apollyon: Montaigne, in his wisdom, put only stubbornness below deceit in his ranking of mannered offenses... I personally disagree, but... I can see his point. Even so... I have lied tonight, and will lie more... To annihilate a particularly virulent strain of stubbornness from someone very near and dear to me. And you two are going to help me do it.

Milo: Um... how?

[Apollyon snaps her fingers and places Lola and Milo back in their costume.]

Apollyon: Andy!

[Andy comes into the room.]

Andy: Yes your Honor?

Apollyon: I need you to observe and assist our latest appointee to the public defender's office.

Andy: [Laughs] Seriously?

Apollyon: Yes.

Andy: Um, oh-- okay.

Lola: Whoa, whoa, w-wait, what-- what's--

Lola: No, your-- your Honor, Apollyon, Polly, I can't-- we can't work for...

Apollyon: That will be all, Andrealphus, thank you.

Milo: What's happening?

Apollyon: You are now part of Roberto Spaghetti's defense team, Lutzelfrau.

Apollyon: You are now part of Roberto Spaghetti's defense team, Major Scuttlebutt.

Apollyon: You are now part of Roberto Spaghetti's defense team, Abraxas.

Apollyon: You are now part of Roberto Spaghetti's defense team, Miloand.

Apollyon: And as part of that defense team, you are to ensure that he receives a guilty verdict.

Meowing Man: Meow

Milo: Huh? You want us to take a dive?

Apollyon: In so many words. For which you'll be granted the opportunity to outdrink me for my Seal. If you win, of course. Now, how does that sound? Fair?

Lola: Wait a dang minute, we still got to outdrink you for the Seal? Even if-- if we do send a potentially innocent man to eternal damnation?
Apollyon: You must respect the rules of the game, child, even though you may not respect the game itself.
Milo: What a crock--

Lola: What if he's innocent? He seemed-- I dunno, he didn't seemed like the person they described him as...
Apollyon: His life is less important than tonight's undertaking, Lola, as difficult as that may be for you to understand.

Apollyon: The trial is starting-- it's your choice. Either ensure Roberto Spaghetti doesn't leave the Nine Circles... Or maybe try your luck with another Monarch... if you haven't already burned those bridges, that is.

Meowing Man: Meow

Lola: Fuck it. We're in.

Apollyon: Andy! Ready?

Andy: [sighs] I suppose as ready as we're going to be! Were you, uh, brought up to speed?

Apollyon: They're learn on the go, it's fine, they're professionals-- professional, is... what they are.

Andy: Hey, if you say so.

Apollyon: All ready? Hands and feet inside the cart at all times, please place your belongings in the pouch of your seat-- And... see you on the other side, kids.

[Apollyon snaps, and Lola, Milo, and Andy are teleported into a dark place with a demon humping a twisted branch.]

Hump Demon: You, uh, you want to get in on this?

[They teleport back into Apollyon's room.]

Apollyon: Sent you to the wrong-- carpal tunnel-- whatever, sorry about that.

[Apollyon snaps again, and Lola, Milo, and Andy are teleported into the courtroom on the island's next floor.]

Case No. 899: The City of Nowhere v. Roberto Spaghetti[]

Bailiff: Ladies and Gentledemons! The Tribunal is now in session! For the prosecution, with a record of eight hundred thousand, six hundred and nine convictions and counting-- The toxic tongue flatterer, the legal eagle, the hapus-capas-- your very own butter and egg man... Malomar!!!!

[Malomar teleports in.]

Crowd: [cheering]

Malomar: Thank you, thank you. My record speaks for itself-- But I'd like to add that that achievement has been... achieved... not because I have sought convictions but because at every turn I have sought Justice.

Crowd: [laughter]

Bailiff: And for the defense - uh... a slight change of plans... but no matter-- For the defense... by special appointment... Andrealphus, and...

Bailiff: Lutzelfrau!

Bailiff: General Major Scuttlebutt!

Bailiff: Abraxus Quincy Purson Esquire Junior!

Bailiff: Miloand!

Crowd: Huh? [unintelligible grumblings]

Lola: [half to herself] I need a drink.
Crowd: [cheering] YAH!!
Bailiff: Yes, here here.
Malomar: Where's the barman?

Lola: We'll, uh, try our best... and hopefully, uh, win... with-- with that.
Bailiff: Aren't they adorable!
Malomar: Yes, and speaking of adorable, where's the barman?

Malomar: Where's the barman?

Nectarian: Mixologist.

Malomar: Oh brother, spare me your ill-gotten sense of self-worth and just give me something with gin in it, will you.

[Nectarian snaps their fingers and a drink appears in Malomar's hands.]

Nectarian: And for you, uh, Madam?

Lola: Gimme a, uh, Morning Murdrum. It sounds promising, right?

Lola: I'll have a Double Talk please.

Lola: I'll have the Rabbit's Head, I-- I think.

Nectarian: Certainly, ma'am.

[Nectarian snaps their fingers, giving Lola a drink and teleporting away.]

Bookie: Place your bets with me Gentlemen! Right over here!

Crowd: [ornery noises]

Bailiff: Okedoke, everyone-- everybody's got their bets in, got their drinks-- okay. Let's get these trials goin'-- I got a Massachusetts manor to possess in like two sunrises. All rise! The dishonorable Judge Titivillus presiding.

[The judge slams his gavel.]

Judge: Hi everyone.

Crowd: Hi Judge Titivillus.

Judge: Yeah, hi. Cheers. What's the first, uh, you know, whatever.

[Roberto teleports in, suspended above The Hole Where Satan Fell at the center of the room.]

Bailiff: Case number 899, The City of Nowhere vs. Roberto Spaghetti.

Milo: Oh shit, this is ours-- I mean... the one Polly wants thrown.

Bailiff: The defender is accused of going on a murderous rampage at a carnival and then lighting a carousel on fire.

(Roberto knows about Milo and Lola)

Roberto: My goodness! My friends! Hi! How are you on this beautiful evening?

Malomar: Why, another open and shut case! Start blunting the axes!

Andy: No, no! Your-- your honor, we know to a certainty that a warlock stole my client's identity... using hair samples to create a twisted, rancorous version of Roberto to get back at the carnival that fired them!

Malomar: But why would a carnival fire a warlock, your Honor?

Andy: He was hired as a fortune teller, and customers complained that their futures were too depressing. But that's beside the point! The point of fact is that my client-- Roberto Spaghetti-- is innocent of all charges.

Lola: Hey, Andy! Stop defending this guy. We need-- Apollyon wants to pull a Raging Bull-- take a dive, get a "Guilty" verdict.
Andy: Huh? She didn't say anything about that to me, and we're on like five separate group text threads.

Lola: Wait, is that-- is that true? Is Roberto actually innocent?
Malomar: Yes! Are you-- did you not read the case file? Study the Earth-bird transcripts?
Lola: "Earth-bird transcripts?" "Case file?" Andy, we've only been on this for like the last ten fucking minutes!

Lola: Hey, back off, Andy. This is my case, okay. You heard Apollyon back there. You're supposed to assist me, not the other way around. You're the-- the Gromit to my Wallace.
Andy: Who the Hell wants to be the Wallace?

Milo: I-- we'd like to hear Roberto's side of things!
Lola: Yeah, whoever said that-- that's really smart!
Judge: Mr. Spaghetti?
Roberto: I was born in a very... small, very humble town in the Belgian province of West Flanders--
Malomar: Faster!
Roberto: I just want to say that I never meant anyone any harm. I only wanted a house sitter for my cat, Huey-- named after Huey Lewis, my favorite musician from New York. And the warlock I hired... deceived me... for his own... villainous scheme of dastardly revenge.

Lola: Uh, Roberto, I don't know if you're, uh, fully aware of all that Hell has to offer... Like, did you know that the, uh, Bobcats won't win.. uh, somethin'...

Malomar: Okay, I think we've heard just about enough of this. It's clear the defense is just trying to sway the Judge's sympathy by appearing incompetent!

Andy: Absolutely not, your Honor. In fact, I hated Roberto more than any of you when I first met him. I thought he was guilty, I did, I'll admit it. I judged him for his accent, for his candor... for his kindness that I perceived as symptoms of an oncoming fever. But I was wrong! I have in my possession a signed confession from the warlock himself -- that will completely exonerate Mr. Spaghetti from all wrongdoing.

Milo: Wait, do we-- do we really?

Andy: Y-yes, whoever said that! The warlock died in a warlocking accident just five minutes ago, and he plea-bargained for a lesser sentence to get Robert off! Our client didn't do anything wrong!

Judge: You have this confession with you?

Andy: Yes, your Honor.

Malomar: Yeah, right!

Lola: I guess... I guess we should help him out, then... Damn it.

Lola: Andy! Polly told me she wants us to lose. It's really important to us and her! There must be a reason for it!
Andy: I don't care! Do you know how rare it is to find an actually virtuous soul? Everyone in Hell says they don't deserve their lot, everyone-- I've been doing this for a long time, and I am not passing up the opportunity to save someone who actually means it!

Milo: No! I-- I heard Roberto confess just earlier tonight!
Crowd: [cheering]
Andy: What! No, you didn't. You're arguing the wrong side!

Milo: No! I-- I heard Roberto confess just earlier tonight!
Lola: Oh my God! Well, whoever said that must know something!
Crowd: [cheering]
Andy: What? Who said that? That's impossible. Roberto's an innocent man!

Lola: Your Honor, how about we have a break for some lunch? You know, let this jury rest their laurels a little--
Judge: There is no jury. The idiots you see here are just an audience.
Lola: Well, I mean, I personally wouldn't mind havin' some hush puppies right about now...

(Roberto knows about Milo and Lola and chose drunk option)

Roberto: My-- my friends, I am sorry to say this, but... you seem to be deliberately sabotaging my chance at salvation. I-- I feel you must have some-- some purpose in your... malice, but-- It would not be fair that I spend an eternity in Hell for your private gain. I feel I must reveal your secret to save my soul. The secret beneath your clothes.
Crowd: [disgusted groans]
Roberto: No, it's-- it's not genitalia related.
Andy: What do you know...

How do we know you're innocent?!
There are extenuating circumstances...
I dare you, buddy. (Liquid Courage)
You don't have the guts! (Double Talk)
Roberto, it's going to be okay. (Charming)
How do we know you're innocent?!

Lola: Hey, Roberto, how do we even know you're innocent, huh? Andy could've gotten bad information.
Andy: I didn't.
Lola: Oh. Well, he could... uh... Shit, I didn't think there'd be so little wiggle room here.

There are extenuating circumstances...

Lola: Roberto, please listen. There-- there are extenuating circumstances, here, that--

I dare you, buddy. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Yeah. You think you've got the balls, buddy? You think you can pull the trigger when the gun's in your hand? 'Cause I don't.

don't have the guts! (Double Talk)

Milo: You don't have the guts, Roberto!
Lola: Yeah, what that voice from somewhere said!

Roberto, it's going to be okay. (Charming)

Lola: Now, Mr. Spaghetti, I-- c'mon now, this isn't the way to-- to get things done. I know you're scared-- we're all scared. But it's going to be all aright, you hear?
Malomar: How is it going to 'be alright?' He's on trial in Hell-- this ain't gonna end with him hearing he isn't the father.

Roberto: Enough of this-- this, uh, what is the word for, erm, charade.
Judge: Charade.
Roberto: "Charade!" Enough of it! Your Honor, that attorney is nothing more than-- than two tiny people standing on each other's shoulders!
Crowd: [confusion]
Judge: Hmm... To be fair, it wouldn't be the first time.
Roberto: But your Honor--

Judge: Counsel, do you have this confession or don't you?

Milo: Are we really letting this happen, Lola? Apollyon's not gonna give us the Seal if we let him walk!

Milo: But Roberto's a good guy!

Judge: Counsel...?

Andy: Yes, I-- I have it right here on my phone. It's-- I took a picture of it with an app that makes-- It turns your face into a rabbit. It got banned for being racist for some reason but I downloaded it before it got taken off the store.

Lola: That confession is a forgery, your Honor! I--I--I watched Andy trace the warlock's signature from his... driver's license!
Crowd: [Shocked noises]
Andy: What? I wouldn't!
[The judge bangs his gavel.]
Judge: Bailiff!
Bailiff: Sorry, Charlie. A lot's permitted in the Courts-- you know that, we all know that-- I mean, we are in Hell, but... forgeries are for absentee landlords tryin' to prove they don't speak English. It's beneath the eyes of Minos, and beneath this Tribunal of Karmic Distribution.
Andy: But--
[Andy is teleported away. The judge bangs his gavel.]
Judge: Any other evidence?
Bailiff: Never mind! Shot clock expired! Trial's done and none too soon!

Andy: Here. See?
Judge: Huh... "...and I, Julian the Warlock, do solemnly swear that it was me who am responsible for all those deaths. "Me who am?"
Andy: [laughing] Oh, he put that-- sorry, it's an inside joke. We were at a restaurant ordering food, and I--
Bailiff: Time's up! Trial's done and none too soon!

[Lola and Milo walk over to a torch and knock it over into Andy, setting him on fire.]
Andy: [Screaming in Agony]
[Andy runs off.]
Judge: Huh.
Bailiff: Okay! Well, that went a different way than it normally does!

Judge: Any other evidence?
Bailiff: Never mind! Shot clock expired! Trial's done and none too soon!
[Andy did not show the confession.]

Bailiff: Case number 899, The City of Nowhere vs. Roberto Spaghetti, the Court of Karma Magistratus finds you...

[The judge bangs his gavel.]

Judge: Not Guilty by reason of sorcery.
Roberto: [sighs] Graci.
Malomar: I-- I showered for this.
[Roberto rises into the air as a spotlight opens up and a heavenly choir plays.]
Judge: Mr. Spaghetti is to be immediately released into the guardianship of custodial Angels. And let's all pray he enjoys nature documentaries 'cause God knows that's all they fuckin' watch up there.

(Said "Lutzelfrau.")
(Said "Scuttlebutt.")
(Said "Fuck it, I'm a person.")
(Said nothing.)
(Said "Lutzelfrau.")

Andy: Lutzelfrau, we did good here tonight.

(Said "Scuttlebutt.")

Andy: Scuttlebutt, we did good here tonight.

(Said "Fuck it, I'm a person.")

Andy: Abraxas, we did good here tonight.

(Said nothing.)

Andy: Miloand, we did good here tonight.

Andy: We really did. I hope you know that. We saw that-- that due process isn't just a town in Alaska. And you can really make a difference if you try.

I hope we didn't screw ourselves...
Happy to help!
You're lucky we were here. (Liquid Courage)
We sacrificed a lot for this. (Double Talk)
You're a good lawyer, Andy. (Charming)
I hope we didn't screw ourselves...

Lola: Yeah well, I hope we didn't just screw ourselves with this. Your boss, Apollyon, really didn't want Roberto to go free. It's kinda the whole reason she sent us here.
Andy: I'll tell her what happened, don't worry. She couldn't have had all the facts-- that confession came in last minute.

Happy to help!

Lola: Just, uh, glad we were here to answer the call of justice when the, uh, phone rang.

You're lucky we were here. (Liquid Courage)

Lola: Well, if you ever want evidence you were born lucky, tonight's all you need.
Andy Uh, what does that mean?
Lola: It means you're welcome.

We sacrificed a lot for this. (Double Talk)

Milo: We sacrificed a lot for this, Andy.
Lola: Yeah, we needed Polly's Seal and she probably won't give it to us now that we did the exact opposite of what she wanted.
Andy: I'll tell her what happened, don't worry. She couldn't have had all the facts-- that confession came in last minute.

You're a good lawyer, Andy. (Charming)

Lola: You're a-- a good lawyer, Andy. Probably one of the few in Hell. Sorry if that's like you're saying, "All the other ones are hoodlums but you're so articulate--"
Andy: [chuckling] No, I-- I understand. Thanks.

Judge: Guilty.
Crowd: [cheering]
Malomar: Ha-ha!
Roberto: Oh dear.
Judge: Mr. Spaghetti is to be immediately remaindered for Processing in the morning.
Roberto: Ahhh!
[Flames start to rise from the hole as Roberto is dropped into it.]

[Milo and Lola's current drink disappears.]

Bailiff: Thanks everyone for coming out tonight! The High Courts are proudly sponsored by cupidity, racial fanaticism, an unquenchable hunger for politicial power-- and Reebok Fuel-Pump Sneakers-- 'Pump up your life with Reebok!' Bye!

[All members of the court outside of Milo and Lola disappear. The crowd dissipates.]

Milo: I... don't feel good about what we just did, Lola. I mean, I'm glad we got to help Roberto, but... I'm nervous we've just made things a lot harder for us. I know it sounds selfish, but... I--I dunno...

There are other ways...
We did the right thing.
There are other ways...

Lola: There will be other ways, Milo, c'mon, this isn't over yet.

We did the right thing.

Lola: We did the right thing, Milo. Roberto was innocent, he doesn't deserve to be here. I would hope if someone else could help us in the same way, they would.

Milo: I guess the silver lining is we never have to see Polly again.

Lola: I... don't feel good about what we just did, Milo. Sending Roberto to Hell... that-- we should have just rolled the dice, there. Maybe tried working another Monarch... I dunno...

Polly must have known something...
It's the only way for us to get out!
Polly must have known something...

Milo: Listen, Polly-- Apollyon must know something we don't. Why else would it be so important for her to keep Roberto in Hell?

It's the only way for us to get out!

Milo: Remember what I said when we pushed that kid into the Koi pond on Black Friday?
Lola: It was our only way out--
Milo: It was our only way out, yes-- look, Satan said we had to get these Seals, and... So that's what we're gonna do. No matter what it takes.

Lola: I just wish I didn't have to see his face when he-- when he realized he wasn't getting acquitted.

[Upon leaving the courthouse, two thug demons teleport on either side of Milo and Lola.]

Thug Demon: Milo? Lola?

Milo: Uh... no?
[Milo and Lola's costume disappears, and they get off each other's shoulders.]
Gang Demon: Apollyon wants to see you. Immediately.
Thug Demon: And this ain't... a request.

Lola: Uh... maybe?
[Milo and Lola's costume disappears, and they get off each other's shoulders.]
Gang Demon: Yeah, it's you. Your immediate presence is requested.
Thug Demon: And this ain't... a request.

Milo: Gulp.

Gang Demon: Go to 1st and Izzard right now. She's waiting for you at the Schoolyard Strangler. Thank you for your understanding.

[The demons teleport away.]

Milo: Uh, guess we should go to the Strangler if we want her, uh, her Seal...

[Milo and Lola eventually arrive at Little Rantalia's dock, where a taxi is running with no driver.]

Lola: Uhhh...

[Milo and Lola get in, and the taxi drives off.]

Milo: Whoa!

Lola: What should we do? Should I try and climb in front and like steer? Not that I want to, but... I'm nervous of careening into, like, an evil... buoy or something.

Milo: No no no, Sam will definitely help us. She has to have like, a, uh, a... remote... a way to remotely control this thing.
Lola: Why does she "have to have that?"
Milo: Um... cause... it's... magic?

Milo: Um, maybe? But I mean... do you even know how to drive this thing?
Lola: Of course I don't. Yeah, Milo, didn't you ever take Hell Ferry 101 when we were in 10th grade? Mrs, uh, Mrs. Hell Teacher really was a Hell inspiration-- we all stood on our desks at the end like every movie ever with a teacher in it.
Milo: You could have said hellspiration, but I'll let it go.

[Voices start to echo from an unknown source.]

Dinah: God, Doodle, the way you dress, it's like you're trying too look pregnant.

Milo: Wait. Who's that?

Lola: Shh.

Sarah: She's just practicing for college. What was the-- you're always saying what? "I don't need friends--"

Nina: No, "I don't need boyfriends--"

Sarah: Yeah, "I'll get a boyfriend after I get a life."

Dinah: [laughing]

Nina: [laughing]

Sarah: [laughing]

Lola: Oh, I get it. It's my turn.

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern.]

Wormhorn's Replicas - Lola[]

[Wormhorn appears in the vehicle, which is now a prop staged against a moving backdrop of Hell's rivers as a projector's light shines against them.]

Wormhorn: Right you are, Lola, it's your turn, you are so very introspective, so self-aware. You're like one of those losers that starts to get depressed and then runs online-- and post about how they're starting to get depressed and how it's okay to be depressed--- and everyone should know out there in La La Land that it's okay if they're depressed-- and here's the suicide hotline if you're feeling depressed-- But of course none of that changes the fact that your engorged human-brain is failing your animal instincts.

Milo: Take us back to Sam, Wormhorn, right now! We're halfway there, the night's half-way over, we don't have time for--
Wormhorn: You have all the time in the universe, Milo, cause you're not getting-- You know what, nevermind, we're skipping ahead, you're getting me all flustered. Let's just-- let's just go back--

Milo: Leave Lola alone, Wormhorn, okay. She doesn't have the inner strength like I do to handle it.
[A pause.]
Lola: What?
Milo: I'm sorry, you're so much stronger than I am, physically and intellectually, I don't know why I said that.

Lola: I am not depressed.
Wormhorn: Maybe not. But maybe you are! I guess it depends on your definition, I mean exposition.

Lola: Wormhorn--

Wormhorn: You know, I bet your sisters would really be so proud of you, Lola! Nina, Sarah, Dinah, they would be... they would be really impressed.

Wormhorn: First you befriend a dead rock star who once drank a fish bowl of laundry detergent on a dare--

Wormhorn: First you befriend a pathetic, security guard demon just to sneak into the House of Lies--

Wormhorn: -- and now you're on your way to outparty a Monarch of Hades, Apollyon, that's-- that's really something.

Wormhorn: -- and then you outparty a Monarch of Hades, Asmodeus, that's-- that's really something.

Wormhorn: I wonder what those fleshy kinspeople of yours would say...

[Wormhorn disappears, and three more holding masks of Nina, Dinah, and Sarah's faces appear.]

Nina: Jesus, Doodle, are you ever gonna get a car?

Dinah: Or are you still throwing away your money saving dolphins or something?

Wormhorn: Oh right! They wouldn't say anything about it cause they're assholes! Wise assholes, but still... You don't have to be an asshole quite so loud, you know?

Milo: Uh, do your sisters really sound like that? Not that I can complain-- My sister sounds like the Bad Seed if she wasn't struck by lightning, grew up and followed an archaeologist named Steve to New Mexico.
Lola: They don't-- they don't sound exactly like that--
Wormhorn: So I'm not that good with the colloquialisms but it's close enough, okay?

Milo: Alright, who the Hell cares what Lola's sisters think about her now, Wormhorn?
Wormhorn: Hey, I don't care about anything except doing an excellent job excellently-- she's the one that cares what her sisters think!
Lola: No I don't! At least, not as much as I, like, used to.

Lola: Wormhorn, seriously, I don't give a shit what Nina or any of them think about me, so... This isn't going to go anywhere.
Wormhorn: Eh, let's look at the evidence.

[Wormhorn disappears and reappears upside-down. The scrolling backdrop transitions from Hell to a suburban neighborhood in Detroit.]

Wormhorn: Previously on Lola's Dad's life... he had a past marriage! And sex with other humans! And lived in Detroit with three daughters he would later abandon for his current ex-wife, Lola's mom! See, Lola's like the mercenary remake of a Hollywood classic-- Sure, there's a bigger budget, but less passion, too. And the script had twelve writers.

Dinah: No, this is the last time I invite her over to hang out. She just sat in the corner and pet Baxter the whole night.

Nina: No, she's just such-- I don't even know how to put it.

Milo: Yeah, I know all of this already. She also knows that my parents are divorced, too, and that--
Lola: It's fine, Milo, it's fine-- we can just sit here quietly until this whole stupid 'ride' is over.

Milo: Yeah, I know all of this already. Also Lola knows that none of this is a bad--
Lola: It's fine, Milo, it's fine-- we can just sit here quietly until this whole stupid 'ride' is over.

Wormhorn: What is it, Lola? Nothing to say?
Lola: There isn't anything to say. I can just sit here quietly until this whole stupid 'ride' is over.

Lola: Don't even engage-- it's like what every lawyer with tattoos tells you--don't talk when being questioned. It can only hurt you.

Sarah: Did you see their Christmas picture this year?

Nina: Doodle is always scowling, it's like a joke at this point.

Wormhorn: Why do you call her Doodle?

Dinah: Cause her baby hair looked like a cartoon. Our grandfather said it first.

Sarah: Lola likes it cause even though it's a distancing and alienating moniker--

Nina: --it means the 'original family' carries her at all in their considerations.

Lola: Oh shut up, Nina, I don't like it!

Wormhorn: Hey, it's not Nina saying it! It's your version of Nina, so file any complaints to your own personal psyche.

Milo: Just ignore them, Lola, it's not even---

Milo: Okay, Wormhorn, she's got her fill, I think, of--

Lola: Oh please!
Wormhorn: Hey--

Lola: Like Nina knows shit about shit, she dropped out of college when she got pregnant with Malcolm!

Nina: And it was the best decision of my life, honey-- God had a plan for me, I just didn't know it, yet.

Dinah: Yeah, Doodle never really believed in the All Mighty-- in, uh, fate.

Sarah: Oh she said she did, but then Christmas would come around--

Sarah: Christmas would come around--

[The backdrop transitions to winter.]

Nina: --and she'd quote textbooks over St. Paul to defend evolution or some shit.

Sarah: Yeah, look where that got her.

Dinah: Holiday dinners were always so awkward. We'd say grace and she'd keep her eyes open, staring at the table.

Milo: Man, I don't know if Wormhorn deserves a Spirit acting award or anything, but your sisters sound like morons.
Lola: They are morons.

Milo: Yeah, no, we're definitely not here because Lola read the Odyssey of the HMS Beagle or whatever.
Dinah: Eh, don't be so sure. God doesn't really appreciate vanity.
Lola: It's not vanity!

Nina: The sad truth is that Lola envies what she sees as our faith-based moral complacency-- secure in our knowledge that we will eventually go to Heaven--

[The backdrop transitions to a ruined, apocalyptic version of Detroit.]

Dinah: --because she knows civilization will end in an oil-starved dystopia, drowned in a gray ocean--

Sarah: --killed dead by super-diseases and storms brought on by mankind's rape of the natural world.

Wormhorn: And there's absolutely nothing she can do about it. So why care, Lola. Why care about anything at all.

Lola: Because I can at least do that, Wormhorn. Okay? Cause I can at least do that, I can care, I can-- I can care, even while I'm fucking dead.

Lola: Because there's still time, okay-- there's still time enough to do something about-- about everything. At least... time enough for somebody to do something... if we don't make it back.

[The other three masked Wormhorns disappear.]

Wormhorn: [laughing] Lola--

Lola: And I love my sisters, okay, I fucking love them-- even though I think they're dumber than a bag of wet socks, and not very nice people... They're my family, and... you gotta care about 'em. Cause there's nobody else to.

Wormhorn: Oh really?

Lola: Yeah. Really.

Milo: Uh, yeah. Really. Right, Lola?

Wormhorn: Oh REALLY?

Lola: Yes, really!

Milo: Uh, I think really, yeah.

Wormhorn: Oh re--

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern. Milo and Lola are back in Sam's taxi as she drives while speaking on the phone.]

Sam: Yeah yeah yeah no, I already ordered it, I was just checking on the shipping number. If I had the tracking number, I'd just look online, wouldn't I? No. I just know it started with a J. Oh, they all start with J? Well fuck me then I guess.

Lola: Sam! Thank God, Wormhorn was--
Sam: Yeah, hi kids, just-- just gimme a second, here, thanks.

Lola: Sam! Where the fuck have you been, we were--
Sam: Yeah, hi kids, just-- just gimme a second, here, thanks.

Sam: Albuquerque! Why the Hell is the zip code so close to Hell, then? Fine, I don't wanna talk about it anymore, just get it here. Ugh, I'm trying out this new toothbrush subscription thing-- so far it's more trouble than it's worth. And, uh, I won't charge you for the dings your Personal Demon inflicted upon my car, so. Milo: Sorry? Sam: Apology accepted, but really, don't worry about it.

Lola: How'd you even get back--

Sam: Took a courier demon. But just forget it-- I mean, why waste time on unnecessary world-building, you know?

Milo: What?

Sam: So! You two Boxcar Children never told me where you wanted to head to next!

Lola: Back to the Strangler. Apollyon is waiting for us.

Milo: I think... the "rape of the natural world" is a line from Jurassic Park--

Lola: Yeah, it's one of my favorite movies.

Milo: We're halfway done, Lola. And then Satan. And then home.

Lola: Well... I hope so.

Lola: Fuck yeah.

Apollyon's Seal Challenge[]

[The screen fades in and out to Sam arriving at 1st and Izzard. Milo and Lola get off, and Sam drives off. Milo and Lola must go to and enter the Schoolyard Strangler, where Apollyon waits at a table.]

Apollyon: You thought about becoming an attorney, right?

Milo: Um. What?

Apollyon: I'm talking to Lola. You wanted to be a lawyer. At one point, I think. While you were bopping around campus.

Lola: Um. Yeah, I did. At one point. Before I died.

Lola: Um, how-- how do you even know that--
Apollyon: I'm a Seraphim, dear, I've looked through the Heavenly telescope into every hazard of time-- I can tell by how you tie your shoes what you think you want out of life.

Apollyon: You thought you were doing the right thing. Like Vortigern inviting the Jutes, and losing Britain in the process--

(Chose Lynda)
(Chose Fela)
(Chose Lynda)

(Chose chanters)
(Chose Blackhouse)
(Chose chanters)

Apollyon: Like you dealing the chanters to Onoskelis in exchange for Lynda's invitation.

(Chose Blackhouse)

Apollyon: Like you dealing Blackhouse to Onoskelis in exchange for Lynda's invitation.

(Chose Fela)

(Chose Greg)
(Chose Pete)
(Chose Eliza )
(Chose Greg)

Apollyon: Like you giving Greg to Fela in exchange for his invitation.

(Chose Pete)

Apollyon: Like you giving Peter to Fela in exchange for his invitation.

(Chose Eliza )

Apollyon: Like you giving Eliza to Fela in exchange for his invitation.

Apollyon: You were trying to do the right thing-- is that why you let Roberto go to Heaven? To meet God? And to be... disappointed?

"Yes, he was innocent." or "I don't know why I did it."
(Say nothing.)
"Yes, he was innocent." or "I don't know why I did it."

Yes, he was innocent.
I don't know why I did it.
Yes, he was innocent.

Lola: Yes. I thought-- I did it cause he's innocent and if there's a Heaven he deserves to be there.
Milo: We deserve to be there, too, you know.

I don't know why I did it.I don't know why I did it.

Lola: I... you know what, Polly, I don't know why I did it. But I did it. Okay, and... he's where he's probably supposed to be now because of it.
Milo: It's where we're supposed to be, too, you know.

Apollyon: You sure about that? Standing, as you are... in Hell.

Don't try and confuse me.
We're sure.
(Say nothing.)
Don't try and confuse me.

Lola: Don't try to confuse the issue, Polly. Of the three of us... only two have souls.
Apollyon: You do, that's true. But I had wings.

We're sure.

Lola: Yeah. We're sure.

(Say nothing.)

Apollyon: Think it over.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: We did it cause he was scared and-- and-- and innocent and... I'm sure Lola just couldn't pull the trigger if it meant condemning someone who didn't deserve to be condemned.

Apollyon: You both did well. Roberto's being transferred to the Seventh Circle as we speak... I know you don't... feel it, but... you did a good deed here, tonight. Which, I shouldn't have to tell you... Is very rare in Hell.

What's going on?
You're right, it doesn't feel good.
What's going on?

Lola: Polly, just... what's going on. Why'd we do that to that guy. What do you want with him, what's-- what's Chernabog got to do with this.

You're right, it doesn't feel good.

Lola: Well, you're right, it doesn't feel good, it feels like shit-- Roberto was nice and-- and-- and looked really fucking scared--
Milo: Really fucking scared--
Lola: Really scared, it-- I hate this-- I feel like I just stepped on a big spider and I could, like, feel it squish.

Apollyon: Let's have a drink, c'mon.

[Polly stands up and walks over to the entrance to upstairs. They must go upstairs and to the balcony.]

Apollyon: Contests of drunken endurance are as old as simians, but... the concept flourished in Medieval Europe-- It's not hard to see why-- life was... monotonous, dreary... Serfs dodged bill collectors, wrote letters, public postings, hoping for... mirroring notes of support-- they worked themselves to the pith... dreaming of being a lord... fat in fame and leisure.

Lola: Huh, sounds a little, uh, familiar. Except-- didn't they take baths like once a year?
Milo: I don't take baths ever.
Lola: Yeah but you shower.
Milo: ...yes.

Lola: Man, thank God we didn't have to worry about that shit, anymore. Now it's just college loans, the energy crisis, global poverty, child mortality, people, uh, shooting each other...
Apollyon: Well.

Apollyon: You have sewers and sanitation now. And... Sure, artificial intelligence will eventually eclipse and enslave all of humanity but, until then... You can get toilet paper online, so.

[Apollyon takes her phone out before putting it away.]

Apollyon: The point is people have always drunk to excess-- drunk to compete in excess. And in the morning, enwrapped in their hangover, they feel wiser for it, as you would after surviving a storm. The thing of it is, they've only survived the day. And you can't dodge the bill collector forever.

Lola: You drink, though, right, Polly? We saw you at the-- at the Sealed Knot?
Apollyon: Of course, Lola. But there's having fun to have fun and then there's having fun to not be sad. The difference is in what's waiting for you in your empty apartment when you get home.

Lola: So... what are you saying, exactly? That-- what, that getting drunk is just deluding yourself into thinking you're happy? 'Cause, yeah... I've been trying to tell Milo that since he still wore board shorts--
Milo: But drinking and having fun is fine in moderation-- everything's fine in moderation except, uh, animal cruelty.
Apollyon: The problem is, Satan doesn't appreciate moderation. He gets it from his father.

Drunk Buddy: Finally. How long does it take to clean a fuckin' bathroom?

Milo: Huh?

Apollyon: I texted Father Vandyke to let everyone back in.

Apollyon: Look, guys, Roberto was going to be a piece of something happening tonight. His... absence will make it more difficult, but it is still going to happen. So I am going to drink with you now because you did what you thought was right. And if that annoys me tonight I can still respect it tomorrow.

Apollyon: Look, guys, Roberto is a piece of something happening tonight. And I am going to drink with you now because you did what I asked and I'm an Angel of my word. But stay out of the way from this point forward...

Apollyon: Sound good?

Lola: Let's go, bring it on, I'm-- we're good, we're set, let's do it.

Lola: Polly, seriously, are-- are you trying to take over Hell?
Apollyon: Focus on getting my Seal, Lola. Once you're gone... this will all have been like a bad dream.

Milo: Sounds-- sounds good.

Apollyon: Whenever you're ready.

[Lola must sit down at the table.]

Apollyon: Down the shot, stack the shot. First one to make Jacob's ladder wins.

Lola: Yeah, g-got it.

Apollyon: And a one, and a two, and...

Milo: C'mon, Lola, you're winning!
Milo: Man, why are you so good at this!
Milo: Yeah, c'mon Lola, you're winning!

Milo: C'mon, Lola, you're falling behind!
Milo: I'm going to be honest: this is not a good look.
Milo: Pick up the pace, Lola!

Apollyon: Well done, well done. Can't remember the last time I did that, honestly. Wait just a sec. Someone's texting me... about... where the death by fires get processed. Yeah I have no idea-- Okay! You want my Seal of Approval.
Milo: Yes. Please.
Apollyon: I think you earned it.

Milo: For someone who doesn't like to party or whatever, you're pretty good at this, Apollyon.
Apollyon: Yeah, well, I've lived a few lives. I know this is important to you guys, so...

[Apollyon snaps her fingers, and the Seal appears on the parchment.]

Milo: Yeah, awesome!

Lola: Cool!

Apollyon: You should see what I can do with a yo-yo. Walk the dog and everything. Well, if there isn't anything else... I should really get back to my soon-to-be-eventful night.

Lola: Uh, do you, by chance, know how we died? Cause, uh, cause I really can't remember.
Milo: Well, wait, maybe, uh, maybe I don't wanna know.
Apollyon: Do you want to know? Lola? Because... it's not a truth for everyone.

Yeah, I do.
Nevermind.
(Say nothing.)
Yeah, I do.

Lola: Yeah, I--
Apollyon: Car accident, the stoplight at Oak Grove. Guy didn't look up to see the red.
Milo: That's it.
Apollyon: Yeah, that's it. Lola died on impact, Milo three hours later.
Lola: Well... okay.

Nevermind.

Lola: Nevermind.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: I-- I don't really want to find out, I don't think I could handle it, to be honest.
Apollyon: I don't blame you.

Lola: Nope, I think-- I think that's it.

Apollyon: Okay, kids. Look to the mad prophet: "We want to hold fast to our senses and to our faith in them-- and think their consequences through to the end." Think about... the consequences of tonight. Before you go and do something to make your Mothers turn their heads.

[Apollyon teleports away.]

Milo: What do you think that meant?

Who knows.
Who cares.
Who knows.

Lola: Who knows.

Who cares.

Lola: Who cares.

(Acquitted Roberto)
(Convicted Roberto)
(Acquitted Roberto)

Lola: All I care about is I won my first court case, mother fucker.
Milo: Yeah, well I'm glad you're happy. Pray we didn't completely screw ourselves down the road when we need Apollyon's help...
Lola: We only needed her 'help' for the Seal and we got it, so... poo on you, let's ramble.

(Convicted Roberto)

Lola: All I care about is I hope we did the right thing with poor Roberto.
Milo: No, I'm-- I'm sure we did. Polly seemed like a-- well maybe not a good egg, but a less-Hell spoiled egg. I'm sure she had a good-enough reason to want him here.
Lola: Yeah... maybe.

Milo: Yeah, yeah,. Me too, me too, really stirring conversation-maker you are, Lola, Jesus.

Milo & Lola's Argument[]

[Milo and Lola must exit the bar.]

Milo: That, uh, was a little scary back there with Polly-- I mean, in the end, we got her Seal, I guess, still-- It was just touch and go for a minute there.
Lola: Roberto was innocent! And I'm not gonna send an innocent man to the Eye Eating Chamber or whatever--
Milo: Yeah, okay, but-- It was just-- Polly-- she wanted one thing , you know, and we didn't do it, and thank Elohim it worked out, but-- I just don't know why-- like, you took that poem in 4th Grade so to heart-- the "path less traveled--"
Lola: So this is your nonsensical way to talk about me moving away, again--
Milo: I didn't say anything about moving--
Lola: Yes, "moving" is needlessly complicating things to you, right?
Milo: Well now that we're on the subject, why are you--
Lola: Cause you can burn the swap meet and the drive-in and the all-night diner to the ground, Milo-- I want new experiences... I want to feel good about my life.

(Helped Lynda)
(Interrogated Greg)
(Interrogated Eliza)
(Helped Lynda)

Milo: I have to hit on Lynda while you sit back and enjoy the show-- Everything always comes up Lola Woolfe. Me and you will just be a footnote in your autobiography... "How I Got Awesome--" "The Story of Lola Woolfe and How She Moved Away From Home."

Are you serious with this?!
You wanted to talk to her!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Lola: What are you-- are you really bringing up that Mercury Wyrm woman from like two hours ago? Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

You wanted to talk to her!

Lola: You wanted to chat up the dead lounge singer, Milo, Jesus-- Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: But just forget it.

(Interrogated Greg)

Milo: We took your lead with Greg the dead guy, and you'll do what you want with this, too-- Everything always comes up Lola Woolfe. Me and you will just be a footnote in your autobiography... "How I Got Awesome--" "The Story of Lola Woolfe and How She Moved Away From Home."

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry you didn't talk then!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Lola: What are you-- are you really bringing up that skeeze bag from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

ddddddd2

Lola: Oh Lord, well I'm sorry we didn't go after the wrong person, Milo-- I'm sorry I was right! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: But just forget it.

(Interrogated Eliza)

Milo: I fucked up with the drunk girl at the bar so I guess you're always right about everything!
Milo: Everything always comes up Lola Woolfe. Me and you will just be a footnote in your autobiography... "How I Got Awesome--" "The Story of Lola Woolfe and How She Moved Away From Home."

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry you were wrong!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Lola: What are you-- are you really bringing up that woman, Eliza, from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

Well I'm sorry you were wrong!

Lola: Oh Lord, well I'm sorry we went after the wrong person, Milo-- I'm sorry I was right! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?

Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.
(Say nothing.)

Milo: But just forget it.

Milo: The, uh, the heat is probably just getting to me.
Lola: Well... I hope that's it. Cripes.

Lola: So... do you want to talk about how we sent an innocent man to be torn apart by wild boars every day?
Milo: Oh, uh, Roberto?
Lola: Yeah. Roberto. Like, I know Polly wanted us to, and we wouldn't have gotten the Seal otherwise, but... Still.

I feel really bad about it.
Something else is going on, there.
I feel really bad about it.

Milo: Well, Lola, if we have to talk about it, I would start by saying I'll forever hear his screams in my nightmares. And I'd finish by saying I feel really bad about it. But... you know we had to. So.
Lola: I don't know if we had to. I feel like we traded his soul for ours.

Something else is going on, there.

Milo: Eh, something-- something else was going on, there, don't you think? I feel like Polly knows something we don't, and-- and Roberto's sacrifice is for some, uh, greater good...
Lola: Yeah, but usually the sacrificee gets to choose if they get sacrificed. Unless they're-- unless they're Mayan, I guess...

Lola: Anyways I was just trying to say that I-- I sometimes think you let your fears do the deciding for you...
Milo: Ah, so this is really about me staying in town after school.
Lola: Hey, I haven't said anything about you staying--
Milo: You think I'm too scared to move away like you are, right? I'm sorry that my Mom needs help, okay, Lola-- I'm like her "emotional support parrot." My Dad remarried in three months and she's all alone with nothing but her store.

(Helped Lynda)
(Interrogated Eliza)
(Interrogated Greg)
(Helped Lynda)

Lola: You never talked up one girl at school and then suddenly you demand to hit on Lynda? You go back and forth, back and forth-- It's just hard to know what target you're aiming at next!

Are you serious with this?!
You could have talked!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Milo: What are-- are you really bringing up Lynda with the invites from like two hours ago? Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

You could have talked!

Milo: Wh-- you could have talked , Lola! I asked and you said it was okay! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: But just-- just forget it.

(Interrogated Eliza)

Lola: You never talked up one girl at school and then you suddenly demand to talk up Eliza? When it was obvious it was Greg! You go back and forth, back and forth-- It's just hard to know what target you're aiming at next!

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry for being wrong!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Milo: What are you-- are you really bringing up that drunk girl from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

Well I'm sorry for being wrong!

Milo: Christ, Lola, I'm sorry for being wrong like two hours ago. I thought we were a-- a team! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: But just-- just forget it.

(Interrogated Greg)

Lola: You were too scared to talk to Eliza and let me go after Greg-- after whining to me for years about not chatting up girls at school! You go back and forth, back and forth-- It's just hard to know what target you're aiming at next!

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry I was right!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Milo: What are you-- are you really bringing up that drunk girl from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

Well I'm sorry I was right!

Milo: Christ, Lola, I'm sorry my instincts were right and I agreed with you that it was Greg! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: But just-- just forget it.

Lola: My shoes are... finally starting to give way, I think, it's just-- that's all. Nevermind.
Milo: Well... we'll walk a little slower, then. Cripes.

[Milo and Lola must continue towards the boat. As they pass the hanging people, it starts to rain.]

Milo: Huh.

Lola: What?

Milo: ...I thought the rain would hurt.

Wormhorn's Apollyon Review[]

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern, and Milo and Lola fall into her projector room.]

Milo: [screams]

Lola: [screams]

Wormhorn: Ooh, fun fact! Rain is one of the few things that are exactly the same in both Heaven and Hell-- since an exactly equal amount of people both love and hate it, like subtitles in movies, or driving. But anyways welcome to your new review!

[The projector sputters to life.]

Wormhorn: Let's just jump right in, shall we?

[The slide switches to Roberto.]

Wormhorn: You know, someone must have slandered poor Roberto-- for one morning, without having done anything wrong, he was dead, and in Hell. And, you also know-- It is rare for people to be asked the question-- which puts them squarely in front of themselves.

Lola: Get us out of here, Wormhorn, we don't need the recap, we just did the shit!
Wormhorn: It helps to have an objective viewpoint, Lola-- like an instant replay! And everyone loves that! When the-- when the refs stop everything to watch tape for ten minutes to tell everyone his damn toe was on-- Nevermind--

Lola: I do not care, lalalalala you can't make me watch this stupid fucking thing-- I can't hear you lalalala--
Wormhorn: Hey, I'm fulfilling my duties if you can hear me or not, Lola, it only matters if you're in the room.
Lola: La.

Milo: Alright, that one actually hurt my back, okay? Why do we keep doing this?
Wormhorn: It helps to have an objective viewpoint, Milo-- like instant replay! And everyone loves that! When the-- when the refs stop everything to watch tape for ten minutes to tell everyone his damn toe was on-- Nevermind--

Wormhorn: Anyways-- I can't believe you threw his case!
[The slide switches to Roberto frowning with a bold, black cross over him.]
Wormhorn: You complete monsters! And all to get into Apollyon's good graces! You're like the corrupt officials the news warns us about!

Apollyon knew something was up!
Apollyon wouldn't help us otherwise!
(Say nothing.)
Apollyon knew something was up!

Lola: Apollyon knew something was up. She-- she totally seemed like there was more going on.
Wormhorn: "Seemed like there was more going on?" This isn't a David fucking Lynch movie-- there's nothing "more going on!" You just sent an innocent man to an eternity of torment cause you wanted out of that same terrible fate. Not cool, dude.

Apollyon wouldn't help us otherwise!

Lola: Apollyon-- she wouldn't have helped us if we didn't do what she said!
Wormhorn: Maybe she would've helped you anyway! Maybe she would've respected you! Maybe you're too dumb to realize you have to be able to beat the damn game even if you do the wrong thing!
Milo: But--
Wormhorn: You just sent an innocent man to an eternity of torment cause you wanted out of that same terrible fate. Not cool, dude.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: She made us, Wormhorn, you know that.
Wormhorn: Maybe she would've helped you anyway! Maybe she would've respected you! Maybe you're too dumb to realize you have to be able to beat the damn game even if you do the wrong thing!
Milo: But--
Wormhorn: You just sent an innocent man to an eternity of torment cause you wanted out of that same terrible fate. Not cool, dude.

Wormhorn: Anyways-- I can't believe you got him off!
[The slide switches to Roberto smiling.]
Wormhorn: You complete idiots! All you had to do was not do anything right! And you couldn't even do that!

He was innocent, Wormhorn!
We still got the Seal!
(Say nothing.)
He was innocent, Wormhorn!

Lola: Hey, dickbag, Roberto was innocent. I'm not going to lose any sleep over this.
Wormhorn: Oh, Roberto was "innocent." He was innocent, everyone-- what a-- what a travesty of-- There's bigger things at stake here, Lola! Text me in two hours when you realize you did the absolute wrongest thing you could've done so far.

We still got the Seal!

Lola: Hey, dickbag, we still got the Seal. We did everything right.
Wormhorn: Oh, you "got the Seal." She got the Seal, everyone-- look-- isn't it great-- There's bigger things at stake here, Lola! Text me in two hours when you realize you did the absolute wrongest thing you could've done so far.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Hey, it was Lola's call, and-- and there was no way Lola was going to curse an innocent man down here.
Wormhorn: Oh, Roberto was "innocent." He was innocent, everyone-- what a-- what a travesty of-- There's bigger things at stake here, Lola! Text me in two hours when you realize you did the absolute wrongest thing you could've done so far.

(Haven't done Asmodeus' quest yet)

Wormhorn: And the new number one recollection on this completely made-up list is...

(Chose "The leader running things.")
(Chose "The woman with the family.")
(Chose "The leader running things.")

Wormhorn: Oh... oh shoot, how'd this one get in here... It looks like a picture of Lola not fulfilling her lifelong goal of becoming a powerful leader of industry...

(Chose "The woman with the family.")

[The slide switches to the image of Lola drinking form a wine glass.]
Wormhorn: Oh... oh shoot, how'd this one get in here... I t looks like a picture of Lola not fulfilling her lifelong goal of becoming a family woman...

Wormhorn: [sighs] Tsk tsk. What a shame, really.

I see what you're doing.
(Sarcastic) Oh no!
(Say nothing.)
I see what you're doing.

Lola: Yeah, okay, I can see what you're doing and, you know, when you can tell the magician studied really hard-- the trick kinda loses some of its flair, you know?
Wormhorn: What do you mean? I didn't do this! It must have been, uh... Whatever, moving on--

(Sarcastic) Oh no!

Lola: Oh my God, no! How-- how did you find these clearly divine images?
Wormhorn: What do you mean? I didn't do this! It must have been, uh... Whatever, moving on--

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Anyways, moving on...

Wormhorn: Ugh-- okay, let's just motor through these Quick Facts o' The Night So Far...

[The slide switches to a picture of Lutzelfrau.]

Wormhorn: You took a poor old witch's dress so you could sneak into a house of devilry...

[The slide switches to a person receiving CPR.]
Wormhorn: ...during your night out, three hundred more people were certified to administer CPR...
Milo: Hey, that's a nice one.
Wormhorn: ...thereby wasting their time and money, since CPR, statistically speaking, never works.

[The slide switches to three sick people.]
Wormhorn: ...a couple thousand people died of preventable diseases-- only two hundred of which were by vampire.
Milo: Wait, what--

[The slide switches to the image of a man.]
Wormhorn: ...Arnold Potter graduated with a Masters in Consumer Psychology. He will go on to design intentionally confusing grocery stores before dying of a stroke inside one of his own shops.

[The slide switches to a mouth chewing ice.]

Wormhorn: ...Currently eight percent of people enjoy chewing ice... only fifteen percent of which realize is a sign of a behavioral disorder-- or mineral deficiency.

Lola: Oh my God, will you shut this stupid thing off!

Lola: Just for, you know, my own sanity, may I ask how much longer?

Milo: Wormhorn...

Wormhorn: Wait wait wait-- wait, there's just-- I think just, like, twenty-eight more--

Milo: Wormhorn!

[The slide switches to Lola and Milo in Lutzelfrau's costume.]

Wormhorn: Remember when Lola went on top in the costume! Everyone saw that coming, right? I mean, look at her! She made Milo be the legs!

Milo: Wormhorn!

Wormhorn: What?! I'm trying my best! I've been to the-- the Akashic records and back-- I've been through your brain journals, your memory palaces... You're not exactly giving me snuff films and spy movies, here.
Milo: Let us... go.
Wormhorn: No. You know what-- why should I? Tell me-- Why don't I just keep you here. Why don't I just-- I just burn time till there's nothing left.

Because it's more fun the other way?
Don't even joke, asshole.
(Say nothing.)
Because it's more fun the other way?

Lola: Uh, because it's more fun to let us out and watch us try? And fail? Than sitting in this dark room on your first night in existence?
Wormhorn: I guess... that's hard to argue.

Don't even joke, asshole.

Lola: Seriously, Wormhorn, don't even joke about it. I'll find a fucking way to end you, I swear it. I'll become a damn... witch, okay? You don't want me down here any more than you need to.

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Why don't I just become a crippling depression and just make you stay in bed, huh?
Milo: I don't know, Wormhorn. But I don't think you know, either.

Wormhorn: Ugh, whatever. Just remember... I know which one of you likes to be spanked... I know which one you likes to get their hair pulled... I know which one of you hates themselves so much they hate their parents for the idea... And I know which one of you hates the other one... almost as much. Think about it! Bye!
Milo: That bit's not getting any fresher, I can tell you that much.
[A pause.]
Milo: I don't hate you, by the way.

I don't hate you either.
I know.
I don't hate you either.

Lola: Yeah, I don't hate you either.

I know.

Lola: Yeah, I figured.

Wormhorn: What's the matter with you, guys?! Don't you-- don't you appreciate the amount of work I've put into this?!
Milo: Why would we appreciate this?!
Lola: All we care about is... is each other, and just getting out, and this is not helping!
Wormhorn: All you care about is each other. No one cares about Wormhorn. Wouldn't it be nice if Wormhorn had someone to rub on her shoulders? If Wormhorn had someone to help cheat at Marco Polo? If Wormhorn had an extra two arms to give herself hugs?

I mean, you're okay?
Nope, nobody cares about you.
(Say nothing.)
I mean, you're okay?

Lola: I mean... you're, like, okay...
Milo: You're just, like, kind of really annoying.
Lola: Yeah.
[A pause.]
Lola: Wormhorn?

Nope, nobody cares about you.

Lola: You hit it right on the money, Mary, absolutely, nobody cares about you. People pay good money to get permanently rid of brain-stains like you, okay? So if you think I'm gonna get sad cause my irrational fear of tornadoes suddenly feels lonely, you are sadly, sadly mistaken, buddy.
[A pause.]
Milo: Wormhorn?

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Whatever.

Wormhorn: Bye.
[Milo and Lola are dropped back into reality.]
Lola: Christ, let's get to Welkin Way before any more of Wormhorn's shit happens.

[Milo and Lola must get onto Sam's taxi.]

Drive from Apollyon's Quest[]

Sam: Okay, bantlings... you got your-- your-- your passport stamped and everything, so... looks like you're good to go. Satan'll be, uh, happy to see you did it, probably.
Lola: Uh, will he be? 'Cause I kinda got the feeling that he didn't really want to do it...
Sam: No, are you-- seriously? No-- using the loophole to let people out makes him feel like he's Harriet fuckin' Tubman. He'll be thrilled to give you guys more than a participation trophy, trust me.
[Skip to "The Split."]

Milo: Hey, so what's over--
Sam: "Light seeking light doth light of light beguile--" that was written by the Earl of Southampton's mistress. Any of you heard of it? This ain't a game show so it's not like you'll lose money.

What the Hell does it mean.
''Love's Labour Lost.''
(Say nothing.)
What the Hell does it mean.

Milo: What the Hell does that mean? It's kind of cheating to rhyme the same word four times--
Sam: You don't-- okay Milo doesn't remember-- look, it's from a play you were fucking in.

Love's Labour Lost.

Milo: Uh, it's from Love's Labour Lost. Why do I know that?
Well firstly you don't know since it's Love's Labour's Lost, and second-- You know it cause you were in the stupid thing.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: It's, uh, from Love's Labour's Lost. That's-- I don't even like Shakespeare, why do I remember that?
Sam: Cause Milo made you watch him perform it in high school?
Lola: Wait, you were in it?

Milo: Oh yeah, I was!
Sam: Yeah, and the girl you were in it for ended up dating your understudy.
Milo: Oh yeah, she did.
Sam: I only bring this, uh, personality-calcifying event because Asmodeus is going through some similar stuff... So you shouldn't really mention anything like-- like love... or relationships. Or like, uh-- doin' it. Or having hope for your, uh, future sexual lives. Anything like that.

Maybe we can help him?
Why not?
Maybe we can help him?

Lola: Maybe, uh, maybe we can-- we can help him?
Sam: You cannot help anyone down here. Alright? I repeat-- you cannot help anyone. Just out drink the son-of-a-bitch and help yourselves. Just like Sally Mitchell helped herself to your understudy's mouth.
Milo: Okay, now-- now look--

Why not?

Milo: Why not? Is he, like-- going through a bad break-up?
Sam: The Peshtigo fire was bad, alright, this-- this was more like your performance as the Good Lord Biron-- A tragic disaster on every level of conception.
Milo: Okay, now-- now look--

Lola: We got it. Avoid touchy-feely, stick to the party-hardy.
Sam: Hey, party-sharty works, too, if you're wearing the right underwear.
[Skip to "Asmodeus' Quest."]

Asmodeus' Quest[]

Arrival[]

[Sam's taxi pulls up at Thrall City.]

Sam: Alrighty. Welcome to Thrall City. It's like if 14th Century Europe invented the skyscraper.

Lola: How could a continent invent anything?

Sam: How'd Australia invent killer birds that kick you to death, Lola? A-- a lot of evolution and luck, okay? Now-- look, just-- When you find Asmodeus, don't-- don't harsh the vibe? He's real big on havin' a "good time."

Lola: The Cassowary! That's-- that's what you were talking about--

Milo: Uh, did you hear her, Lola? [chucking] Don't "harsh the vibe?"

Lola: Oh gimme a-- the Gulag Archipelago is an important book, alright, and I didn't know that Tim was on shrooms that time--

Milo: Why do you even have that as an audio book?

Lola: Cause I jog, okay? It's called multitasking.

Sam: Byeeeeee!

[Sam drives off.]

Milo: That's so funny, I totally forgot I was in that play. Sally Mitchell, she played, uh, Rosaline-- I don't think I said one word to her outside of the script. Ugh, it's annoying remembering how-- how bad I was at, uh, dating or-- or anything social. Not that I-- not that I would be much better down here.

Lola: Yeah, you didn't-- you weren't the best at making female friends who wouldn't mind boning you.

Lola: Eh, c'mon, Milo, you weren't that bad. You got dates sometimes, right?
Milo: Rarely. And they'd usually end with one of us very sincerely apologizing.

Milo: Yeah, I guess that'll always be a mystery-- what it's like to grow old with someone. "Your grace needs not fear it." That's the only line from the play I remember...

[In Thrall City, Milo and Lola can look at an abandoned Feisty's.]

Milo: I guess Feisty's is a chain. Wanna head in?

Lola: Looks like it's closed.

Milo: Oh. You're right. It looks like that one permanently shuttered Dimples near our housing where that weird cat lives in.

[Milo and Lola can look at a "Thrall Tattoos" shop.]

Lola: Want to get a tattoo? I thought you wanted like, uh, a aardvark design or something?

Milo: Yeah... maybe if we get home I'll want to commemorate my love of those lovable insect-eaters, but... I'd be a little nervous of what a Hell tattoo would actually be like.

Meeting Beth (Optional)[]

[Milo and Lola will stop while passing by The Significant Cellar.]

Milo: Hey, this looks like a cool bar... The Significant Cel--

[Beth drops down from the sky on top of Milo.]

Milo: Oof!

Beth: And so I told Frank, I said, "Listen, I don't care about the metrics..." Just tell me what we should be doing better.

Betty: He's so whipped by marketing.

Veronica: It gets annoying, it really does.

Lola: Milo! Are-- are you okay?
Veronica: Oo, uh, Beth, honey? I think you just stepped on somebody.

Lola: Hey! You notice you just put your boot heel through my friend's skull?!

Beth: Oh! Sorry, kid, I didn't see you down there!

Milo: It's-- I'm good, I once had my foot run over by a paperboy, so, I'm-- I'm fine.

Beth: Okay. You're new, right? Are you on Bicker yet?

Veronica: Beth, for Satan's sake, you're not at a convention!

Beth: What?! Conversion and retention, man, it'll get Beelzebub off my ass. Sorry, I'm Beth. Short for Behemoth. I'm Director of Operations for Bicker.

Betty: You just love to say the full title, don't you.

Beth: I'm still getting used to it!

Lola: Yeah, Bicker's been kinda helpful for us, actually. I wasn't on any social media while I was alive but that's only cause on Earth it gives you soul cancer.
Beth: Yeah, we're still rolling out our feature set so Earth's a little ahead of us.

Lola: Oh, so you run Bicker? So it was your idea to make social media a nightmarish maelstrom that perverts noise with meaning-- or was it just a happy accident that it's the same thing on Earth?
Beth: Just a happy accident.

Betty: Sorry, Beth, but they're not gonna hold our table forever.

Beth: They will for me! But alright. See you guys around. Get on Bicker and Direct Yell at me, I'll promote your sins, okay?

Veronica: Have a good night, kids!

[Beth, Betty, and Veronica enter The Significant Cellar. Milo and Lola can attempt to follow them.]

Milo: Uh, pardon-- pardon me, but we would like to get into the--

Bouncer: This bar? Yeah. Fat chance. The Cellar is an exclusive lounge and haven for serious reprobates only. You gotta score less than 20% on your "shame and scruples." If you have even a hint of compunction or moral fortitude in ya... You can walk your ass down to the Waffle House.

Milo: Okay, well... how do you know I'm not like that? I mean-- I mean, one time, I was playing my little cousin in a-- in a racing game-- And I didn't show him how to brake until it was almost time for his parents to pick him up--
Bouncer: Leave.

Milo: Sounds, uh, scary. Is there-- is it mostly demons in there, or--
Bouncer: Oh no, we don't discriminate. It's a healthy mix of murderers and madmen. A lot of cellists, actually, which, uh-- it surprised me. But maybe you should try Club Skoll. They're more... happy go lucky, if you catch my drift.

Lola: Waffle House it is!
Bouncer: Great, don't care.

[After taking the elevator up, Milo and Lola will approach Club Skoll.]

Milo: He might be in here... I mean, it looks crazy. Skoll. Sounds promising, eh?

[Pirate Eddie and Annie exit the bar, and their conversation can be overheard.]

Pirate Eddie: Okay, I know I was making out with that demon, I know, but-- That's what pirates do, we get booty. Right? Am I-- am I right?

Pirate Annie: Gimme a fucking break, Eddie. I'm getting a cab.

Pirate Eddie: Annie, we-- why'd we come here if not-- we never said we were exclusive!

Pirate Annie: Oh! Okay! I get it now-- that blood oath for Captain Bart's treasure wasn't enough-- Dying to those sharks when we got lost wasn't enough-- Edward needed to have "the talk," okay.

Pirate Eddie: Those-- those were business opportunities-- it's not like we were married sailing the seven seas.

Pirate Annie: The Gulf of fucking Mexico isn't a sea, Eddie-- there's four oceans-- We learned this like a thousand years ago!

Pirate Eddie: Annie, baby, c'mon.

Pirate Annie: Just shut up. We'll talk about it when we get home.

[Eddie and Annie walk away. Milo and Lola must enter Club Skoll.]

Male Club Demon: Oh, so you're gonna tell me you weren't dancing with him, huh?! That guy was all over you!

Female Club Demon: Okay, that guy didn't even have a head, so... he, like, barely counts, biologically speaking.

Lola: This place looks like a real meat market-- but, uh, the meat is spelled--

Milo: What?! I can't hear you over the music! Yeah, but this place is a real meat market, though, right?! If-- if meat was spelled--

Lola: Let's just find Asmodeus! Maybe he's on the dance floor!

Milo: Yeah! It's spelled like the-- like the food!

Lola: God, I hate places like this. I don't know what it is, but it's just like-- This, "I worked three hours today so I deserve to get coked up and dance while Chinese laborers make my new smartphone." Like, why don't you take that time and give something back. The world's crumbling to dust and you just wanna freak on some guy.

Milo: Eh, you know... I can see the appeal of just forgetting your troubles. Like cruises, you know? I've always wanted to take a cruise somewhere. Get massages. And then while I'm getting a massage, get a masssage for my masseuse, like surprise him, and then-- And then we like become really good friends--
Lola: Yeah, I've heard your Buy A Masseuse Friend plan before.

Milo: Yeah, no, it always feels a little decadent, a little selfish-- A little like buying the lemon scented dish soap when the plain one is on sale.

Club Skoll Bar Options[]

[There are three bar locations within Club Skoll, all of which mainly offer the same dialogue with minor variants.]

[Only triggers on the main floor.]
Skoll Bartender: Two Red Parillas for two love birds.
Guy Lover: Oh, we're not lovers. I treat her more like a mannequin I've built to demean.
Girl Lover: And he looks like my dad, so I get to work out my more wholesome fantasies.
Skoll Bartender: Sounds good, kids, have fun.

[Only triggers on the top floor.]
Club Lady Demon: I don't do the cherry stem thing, but I can twist-tie a baby in my mouth without trying.
Club Guy: Cool, have I mentioned I'm in finance?
Skoll Bartender: Can you clear the lane, folks, I got drinkers behind.

[Only triggers on the bottom floor.]
Drink Ordering Demon: I need somethin' that will make women overlook the fact that I'm both hideous and just generally uninformed.
Skoll Bartender: Eh, this'll have Mary Ann Cotton chasin' you up a tree.
Drink Ordering Demon: Good enough for me!

(Intro Variants)

Skoll Bartender: Hey kids, what'll it be?
Skoll Bartender: Want to reload?
Skoll Bartender: Wanna change it up or stick with what you know?
Skoll Bartender: Want another?
Skoll Bartender: Your blood starting to clean itself? Let's fix that.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: Gimme a Look Out Behind You.
Milo: One-- one, uh, Look Out Behind You, please.
Milo: Can I get a-- a Look Out Behind You?

(Lola variants)

Lola: Uh, one Look Out Behind You, I think.
Lola: Okay, just, uh, just a Look Out Behind You.
Lola: A Look Out Behind You sounds okay.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: Can I have a-- a Bluebeard's Last Wife?
Milo: One Bluebeard's Last Wife... I guess.
Milo: A Bluebeard's Last Wife sounds, um, appealing.

(Lola variants)

Lola: Gross, but I guess I'll have a Bluebeard's Last Wife.
Lola: A Bluebeard's Last Wife is what I will have.
Lola: I think a Bluebeard's Last Wife.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: A-- a-- a Blue-- I mean Red Parrilla.
Milo: Um, a Red Parilla sounds okay.
Milo: The Red Parilla looks good. I'll have that.

(Lola variants)

Lola: Um, a Red Parilla this time.
Lola: One Red Parilla, I-- yeah, a Red Parilla.
Lola: A Red Parilla.

(Milo variants)
(Lola variants)
(Milo variants)

Milo: One glass filled with Literally Acid, if you please.
Milo: Literally Acid is the obvious choice here.
Milo: Uh, one-- one Literally Acid.

(Lola variants)

Lola: I'll probably regret this, but I'll have a Literally Acid.
Lola: Literally Acid? Literally Acid.
Lola: I guess I'll have a Literally Acid.

(Outro Variants)

Skoll Bartender: Try not to drink and dance, it's a pain to clean up the floor.
Skoll Bartender: Enjoy yourself!
Skoll Bartender: Don't drink it all in one gulp.
Skoll Bartender: Here you are.

[On the lowest floor, Milo and Lola can attempt to get into the VIP section.]

Milo: Hi, is that-- can we, uh--

Skoll Bouncer: This is the VIP section. You'll notice by the fact that you can't enter.

Lola: Can't we just pop in for a minute?

Skoll Bouncer: Every second you sit there would depreciate the seat's value.

Milo: Well, that's-- it's hard to argue with, really.

Meeting Asmodeus[]

[As they walk onto the dance floor, Milo and Lola are passed by Asmodeus, a human named Walker, and a demon named Belial.]

Lola: Whoa, hey--

Belial: Asmodeus, seriously, I'll take whatever uppers you got.

Asmodeus: Belial--

Walker: We know you have a stash of Pujari teeth, Al. You-- you designed the lava pit the cartel burns in! Now, you've been havin' a rough time of it recently, we know, but--

Asmodeus: Haha, I'm on leave. So it's not my job anymore. Look up "staycation." That's-- that's what it-- you'll see a picture of me. This is it.

Lola: Hey, that's the big guy-- the Monarch, Asmodeus. Let's follow him-- make, uh, make friends. With him, not them.

Belial: "On leave?" what are you, fuckin' Swedish? I need drugs!

Walker: My husband doesn't know he can't fix the toaster-- and I need to get high enough to pretend he can!

Asmodeus: Get a divorce, then. Or a drink! That's where I'm going! Father Drekk makes a great Tuurngait Shake. You should have one.

DJ: Hey y'all! We're here at Club Skoll, and we're gonna make sure to keep it bumpin' all night. I said all night long.

Crowd: [Cheering]

DJ: And remember, the Dance Contest is ongoing. So sign up with me, The Pulaman, right here at the DJ Booth. I'm not allowed to leave-- I don't even have legs, really-- so feel free to come by anytime! Just a lil'-- a lil' 4-1-1 for y'all: De Rais hasn't come in tonight-- He usually hangs out with the Bourbon Kings in Poopy Pants Land-- Formerly known as Shitburgh before those evil toddlers took over.

[Milo and Lola must get a drink with Asmodeus.]

Skoll Bartender: What'll it be?

Milo: I'll have, a, uh, a Look Out Behind You?
Skoll Bartender: Sound advice.

Milo: One Bluebeard's Last Wife, please.
Skoll Bartender: Sure thing, but I should add it doesn't come with alimony.

Milo: I'll take a-- a-- Red Parilla?
Skoll Bartender: Parrilla, with a soft a. One sec.

Milo: Gimme a-- it's-- whatever Literally Acid is?
Skoll Bartender: It's more metaphorical. But also... yeah.

Skoll Bartender: Hey, Uncle Al! How's the vacation been?

Asmodeus: Great! Great. I've been, you know-- I hate the phrase, "Takin' a little me time," but-- I guess it's better than sayin' I've been just dickin' around, missing the life I used to have.

Skoll Bartender: Cool, cool-- what do you wanna drink?

Asmodeus: Oh shit, I don't know... Know how to make a Marburg sour?

Skoll Bartender: Don't have the blood samples.

Asmodeus: Sure sure, uh... let's see...

Milo: Hey, Asmodeus? Nice to meet you. I've heard, uh, we've heard a lot about you.
Asmodeus: Did you? Well, I pray none of it's good.

Milo: Hi, uh, Uncle Al? Uh, great to meet you, can we-- we have a little favor to ask...

Milo: Hey, Asmodeus! Great club, right? Love the-- the ambience, the theme. I can't really-- I can't really tell what it is, but--
Lola: Yeah we're really big on party "themes?" Last year's Christmas light budget was around the cost of operations for the city of Toronto.
Asmodeus: Well I'm sure Jesus appreciated it. I mean, he'd appreciate anything. That guy'd chase a laser pointer around for days if you have the batteries.

Milo: Asmodeus! Gimme your Seal of Approval you scurvy landlubber so we can scuttle off this doomed voyage!
Asmodeus: My Seal of Approval? What am I approving?

Milo: Hey, Uncle Al! It's really nice to meet you, man, I love the-- you got a great-- you got a great vibe. I really prefer it to the, uh, "hornets in my tea" version of Hell we've grown accustomed to.
Asmodeus: Thanks! I like me, too. I mean, I should. I have to live with myself.

Lola: Hey, um, Asmodeus?

Vacation Demon: Hey! Uncle Al! The Alligator! The Asswagon-- You got like ten hours? I'm taking a bath on a timeshare and need to vent at someone taller than me.

Asmodeus: Uh, maybe? Just don't get too pissed if I stop you after ten minutes.

Vacation Demon: Actually, why didn't I see you at Salsa Dancing last Wednesday?

Asmodeus: I don't really like the instructor.

Milo: Could we-- I'm sorry, could we get like a second with you, Asmodeus...
Asmodeus: Uh, yeah, kid, just jump right in. We don't raise our hands here to get called on or anything.

[Milo takes out his phone.]
Vacation Demon: I'm sorry, are you-- are you pretending to text someone?

I am texting someone.
...yes.
(Say nothing.)
I am texting someone.

Milo: No, I am... texting... with someone... named... Asmodeus. Shit.

...yes.

Milo: No. I mean, yes.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Can you just not call attention to it?

Asmodeus: Uh, why don't you give me a second with these guys.

Milo: Yeah yeah yeah you're a loser, we got it. Just sit down and shut up, we'll get you loaded, okay?
Vacation Demon: Hey, don't have to tell me twice!
[The Vacation Demon joins them at the bar.]

Milo: Whoever scurvy seadog ye be, we need to get this dabloon's Seal of Approval! And you're-- you're heave-hoin' and scalley-waggin' all over the conversation!

(Didn't say "Gimme your seal, ya land lubber!")
(Didn't say "Gimme your seal, ya land lubber!")

Asmodeus: [laughing] My Seal? That thing's like a bad penny, what would you want with it?

Milo: Hey, brother-man, have a seat, rap with us. Name's Milo. What's yours?
Vacation Demon: Zepar, I eat people who write unwarranted bad reviews for local businesses.
[The Vacation Demon joins them at the bar.]

Asmodeus: Sit down. Hang out with us.
[The Vacation Demon joins them at the bar.]

(Chose "We need to talk to Al...", (Awkwardly check phone), or "Haul wind outta here!"

Happy Club Demon: Hey, sound the alarm, your cousin's here--
Vacation Demon: God, I come here to get thrashed, not plan next Thanksgiving dinner. See ya later, Al! Kids. Keep your head up.
Asmodeus: Good to see ya, Zagan! I mean Zepar, sorry! Fuck, names from the third circle all sound Greek to me.

Lola: Sorry to bother you, uh, Al, but-- first off, I'm Lola, he's Milo, and... We're doing the whole "Challenge Satan to a Drinking Contest to Escape Hell" thing, and we really need--

Asmodeus: Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can stop right there. 'Cause you don't really need anything, now, do ya. 'Cause you're in Hell. Which means you're dead. And you're kind of a fast talker and fast talkers spread anxiety like termites. So do me a favor and slow-boat it a bit.

Vacation Demon: Yeah get out of the fuckin' car pool lane.
Asmodeus: Yeah, just hang out. Put your feet up. There's no dress code, so don't worry about it.

Asmodeus: You're gettin' my blood pressure up and I don't even know what your mom looks like. So you just chill out, put your feet up--

Milo: Al, this is serious. We need to get out before the Processing Station makes us eat live gerbils every day.

(Vacation Demon is present)
(Vacation Demon isn't present)
(Vacation Demon is present)

Vacation Demon: Hey, a wise man once told me,"eating gerbils is only bad if you don't like it."

(Vacation Demon isn't present)

Asmodeus: Yeah, that's not the worst punishment. Especially if it wasn't your pet.

Lola: True, but--

Milo: No problemo, Uncle Al. I will-- we will be as cool as a cucumber in the North Pole... in a snow globe.

(Vacation Demon is present)
(Vacation Demon is present)

Vacation Demon: In a snow globe?! Now you've gone too far!

Lola: No, wait-- no, we-- the only reason we're here is to get--

Milo: Shiver our timbers. We need the Seal, me matey! A storm's a brewin' and can't give any quarter!

(Vacation Demon is present)
(Vacation Demon is present)

Vacation Demon: Oh, it'll be tough to get a seal down here- cute animals typically go to Heaven.

Milo: I'll just start drinking and see where my mood grows from there.

(Vacation Demon is present)
(Vacation Demon is present)

Vacation Demon: Good idea!

Lola: No, wait-- no, we-- the only reason we're here is to get--

Milo: Yeah, completely, I read you, dude. "Anxiety" is just chemicals we evolved past when we invented, like, mittens, man--

(Vacation Demon is present)
(Vacation Demon is present)

Vacation Demon: Eh, I don't know, some of the mittens down here can really fuck you up--

Lola: No, wait-- no, we-- the only reason we're here is to get--

Lola: No, wait-- no, we-- the only reason we're here is to get--

Asmodeus: Morningstar already texted me, squirt. I know you want my Seal for the contest.

Milo: Oh.

Asmodeus: Father Drekk! Two shots of Permanent Vacation.

Lola: You wanna-- you wanna have a drink-off right now? 'Cause I was kinda hoping you'd just make us like clean your gutters or something.

Asmodeus: Fractio panis. We're breaking bread, Lola. C'mon, do a shot with me. Let's get to know each other a little. Get those wrinkles off your face.

Lola: We don't need therapy, Mr. Asmodeus, we just need you to stamp our permission slips.

Asmodeus: Eh, I disagree.

Lola: Let's agree to disagree.

Asmodeus: I really insist.

Lola: And I sincerely de-sist.

Asmodeus: It'll-- trust me, it'll help.

Lola: I don't need help in that arena.

Milo: C'mon, Lola, remember when I dared you to drink a teaspoon of bleach? What happened then?
Lola: I threw up for eight hours.
Milo: See, so-- my exact point, thank you. You've already-- that's the worst of it, like--
Lola: Fine, fine, I'll take the stupid shot. If you really fucking think-- if it's so important--
[Lola will take the shot.]

Milo: She says she doesn't want it, so... she doesn't want it. I mean, we don't even know-- like, is she gonna grow frog feet or something, cause--
[Lola won't take the shot.]

Milo: And just to be clear: she does the shot, and then we get the Seal?
Asmodeus: I'm not one of those bargaining demons, guys. I'm just here to have a good time.
[Lola won't take the shot.]

Milo: Drink hearty, me mateys, drink up... while the moon is fair like bow legged, uh, somethings.
Asmodeus: See, your friend's having fun already.
Lola: Fine, fine, I'll take the stupid shot. If you really fucking think-- if it's so important--
[Lola will take the shot.]

Milo: Yeah, Lola, get with the vibe. If you kinda tilt your head a certain way we kind of are on vacation...
Asmodeus: See, your friend's having fun already.
Lola: Fine, fine, I'll take the stupid shot. If you really fucking think-- if it's so important--
[Lola will take the shot.]

[Lola won't take the shot.]

Asmodeus: "When a man drinks, he becomes rich, he wins lawsuits, and he is happy to help his friends."
Lola: Let's focus on the last part.
[Lola takes her shot, and a wreath of flowers appears around Lola's head.]
Lola: Ohhhh shit. I feel-- this is weird. Is this what like lazy people feel like?! Cause this is awesome! It's like I'm walkin' on a shag carpet in my bare feet! But I'm not!

Asmodeus: Hey, it's okay, it's fine. Skoll is a no pressure environment. If you don't wanna play shuffleboard, they'll just use the heads somewhere else, you know?

Skoll Bartender: Hey, Al-- some folks wanted to know if you could make the Deathday Announcements.

[If the Vacation Demon was present, he leaves.]

Asmodeus: Yeah, I'll be the mall Easter Bunny. Kids, why don't you two tag along. Won't take long. Not that many people here died this month.

Milo: Um, actually, I think I need another drink, first.
Asmodeus: Yeah, please do.
[Milo and Lola go back to the bartender and order a drink of their choice (see "Club Skoll Bar Options").]

Milo: Yeah, that-- that sounds great.

Milo: How about instead you just give us your Seal now. Save my shoes some tread.
Asmodeus: C'mon, you'll get the tour, first.

Milo: Onward, off the starboard bow, ya scallywag!

Milo: Hey, you just lead the way, bro, you walk, we'll roll.

Lola: Yeah, chill out, Milo. Fuckin' Christ-- you'll burn calories.
Asmodeus: See? Your friend's on holiday time, you should set your watch, there, too.

Lola: Sure, whatever, let's go.

[Asmodeus starts leading Milo and Lola to the top floor.]

Asmodeus: You're tryin' to outdrink Satan, right? Well you can dream a dream in time gone by, that shit ain't happening.

Milo: Why not?

Asmodeus: Cause tryin' to outdrink a guy goin' through a breakup is harder than waking up happy.

Lola: Satan's going through a breakup?

Asmodeus: With God, yeah. But also with the lie that life means anything. That shit happened like a hundred millennia ago and it's still in his head. Those two had a codependent relationship like you've never seen.

Milo: Eh, I don't mean to argue, but... don't some things matter? Like finally getting that A in gym class after years of practicing line dancing at home?
Asmodeus: [scoffs] Sorry, Milo, but, no. Sympathy, morality-- it's pyramid schemes that only benefit one guy. And you'll never find Him in the stables--

Milo: Eh, wait-- hold up. Satan's still not over getting evicted from Heaven? Didn't that happen, like, when light was being invented?
Asmodeus: Yeah, Satan's like an elephant, alright-- he's got a big prick and a long memory.

Milo: That's just what a-- what a-- what a demon would say!
Asmodeus: Hey, kid, I'm no demon. I'm an angel burned into nature by the kiln of the first epoch. I just bet on the wrong horse... if you catch my meaning.

Milo: Hey, speak for yourself, bucko! Scouring' the oceans fair and pillaging are what life's all about!
Asmodeus: Sorry, Milo, but being good at your job won't make you complete. Neither will anything else. Sympathy, morality-- it's a pyramid scheme that only benefits one guy. And you'll never find Him in the stables--

Milo: Heh, you know, that's a really interesting philosophy. A little Zeno, a little-- a little Buster Keaton.
Asmodeus: No, Buster believed in life-- he just knew the house would miss him.

Asmodeus: How's Lucifer lookin' these days, anyway? He still up on Welkin Way?

Lola: Oh yeah. Big place. Makes Xanadu look like a Bouncy Castle.

(Lola took the shot)

Lola: Milo, hold up, wait-- this drink is seriously a trip-- I finally see how boring soup kitchens are now!

Asmodeus: Uh, all of us, the original Monarchs, we all used to live up there, I don't know if you know... Satan and me? Yeah, we're still buddies. But the others... eh. Even Bed Bath and Beyond coupons, don't-- Don't let anyone tell you that they don't.

Milo: God, that's depressing. I mean, if Satan can't keep a close collection of friends, who can?
Lola: Probably a lot of people.
[Asmodeus won't talk about Satan.]

Milo: I don't mean to pry, but... what happened?
Asmodeus: Oh, mostly they just got sick of his moaning about how he lost the war.
[Asmodeus will talk about Satan.]

Milo: Well whaddya know?! The Lord of Flies is a bit of a dickhead!
Asmodeus: Oh, mostly they just got sick of his moaning about how he lost the war.
[Asmodeus will talk about Satan.]

Milo: What scurvy, back-stabbing assholes would leave the captain of their crew?!
Asmodeus: Oh, don't judge them too harshly. They just got tired of his moaning about how he lost the war.
[Asmodeus will talk about Satan.]

Milo: Not-- not chill enough for you guys? Was he harshin' your mellow?
Asmodeus: Oh, mostly they just got sick of his moaning about how he lost the war.
[Asmodeus will talk about Satan.]

[Asmodeus won't talk about Satan.]

(Talk about Satan)

Asmodeus: He loved God, and then he loved himself, and then he loved the idea of beating God. It's the same trustfalls in marriage-- any partnership, romantic or otherwise-- just ends with you... dying of something boring like heart disease-- counting the minutes you spent doing things you hated. Cause they wanted to watch Dr. fucking Quinn. Is that show still on?
Lola: I don't even know what that is.

Splitting Milo's Conscience[]

[Upon reaching the top floor:]

Asmodeus: How many Death Days tonight?

Barry Demon: Just a few. Don't do the carbon monoxide poisoning, he's not quite over it, yet.

Milo: Okay, uh, Al, can we just get your signature on this, uh--

Asmodeus: And you know, another thing about Satan... He really-- he was my life raft when my wife, Beth, left me. He took me out, wouldn't let me get too down. It was a huge help.

(Saw Beth)

Asmodeus: And I'll always think kindly of the guy for that, you know?

Beth? We just saw her.
Sorry about your marriage.
Why'd she step out? (Liquid Courage)
Why'd the lass leave you? (Pirate Captain)
Why'd she leave, dude? (Club Killer)
Beth? We just saw her.

Milo: Beth?! The-- does she work at Bicker? We just ran into her outside the Significant Cellar or, rather, she ran over me.
Asmodeus: Really? How'd she look? She look good? She looked good, didn't she. She didn't look bad, did she? She couldn't. My God, the woman can wear anything.

Sorry about your marriage.

Milo: Oof. Sorry. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. Or... at least I got that fortune cookie message like ten times in a row.

Why'd she step out? (Liquid Courage)

Milo: Oh, shit. Why'd she leave? If you don't mind me pressing into your personal life with reckless abandon...
Asmodeus: Oh, some ill-advised focus on her career. What's a "career" ever done for anyone except Genghis Khan?

Why'd the lass leave you? (Pirate Captain)

Milo: Why'd the bonnie lass leave you at the gallows?
Asmodeus: Oh, some ill-advised focus on her career. What's a "career" ever done for anyone except Genghis Khan?

Why'd she leave, dude? (Club Killer)

Milo: Oh, dude, that blows. Why'd the little missus leave?
Asmodeus: Oh, some ill-advised focus on her career. What's a "career" ever done for anyone except Genghis Khan?

[The drink's effects visibly wear off on Lola.]
Lola: Oh... whoa. That shot's wearing off... I feel like I just walked off the plane from Cancun and realize I live in Cleveland.
Milo: Here, you can have my drink.

Lola: Ugh, we're getting nowhere. Asmodeus, if you just--

Asmodeus: Hey, party demons! We have a very special Death Day, tonight! Grog Boulderrat! Eaten by a dinosaur thirty million years ago! And yes, people, dinosaurs did exist with humans, don't believe everything scientists tell you...

Milo: Asmodeus, about-- about that Seal--

Asmodeus: Yeah, my witch-doctor-slash-therapist thinks I'm just burying my pain at Beth leaving by partying all the time... That I'm just perpetuating an endless cycle of self-destruction, ignoring my real trauma... But she still wears Robinson-May, so what does she know? Let's have a drink, Milo, c'mon. For Grog.

Asmodeus: Lola did Hotel Hell, how about you try my own personal cocktail, the Unapologetic?

Asmodeus: Lola refused the Hotel Hell, but Milo, c'mon-- it's my own personal cocktail, the Unapologetic.

Asmodeus: Good for what ails you...

Milo: Um... maybe?

Lola: Milo, you don't know what that drink will do.
Milo: Well your drink made you think you were sailing in the bahamas, so... c'mon, it'll be okay.

Lola: Well, I mean, I did mine, and it didn't turn out so bad...
Milo: Yeah, that, uh, makes enough sense. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?

Lola: Hey, Milo, c'mon, I didn't do mine, and I'm no less cool for it. And you won't be either.
Milo: True, but... I think you're probably less cool now, just for, you know, saying that out loud.

Lola: Eh... it's likely okay, right? I mean... I didn't do mine... but that's not to say I'm not still curious about what weird-yet-zanily-fun thing would have happened...
Milo: Yeah... and you know how I hate missing out on zaniness.

Lola: Don't be an idiot, Milo, that drink could make your hands fall off, you have no idea.

(Lola took the shot)
(Lola refused the shot)
(Lola took the shot)

Milo: Well your drink made you think you were sailing in the bahamas, so... c'mon, it'll be okay.

(Lola refused the shot)

Milo: Eh, look around. No-one's melting into the floor, everyone looks like they're having a good time. Right?

Lola: Drink up and drink hearty, ya grog blossom!
Milo: Yeah, uh, what she said.

Lola: Don't overdo it, bro, we don't know what that drink is made of.

(Lola took the shot)
(Lola refused the shot)
(Lola took the shot)

Milo: Well your drink made you think you were sailing in the bahamas, so... c'mon, it'll be okay.

(Lola refused the shot)

Milo: Eh, look around. No-one's melting into the floor, everyone looks like they're having a good time. Right?

Milo: Uh, yeah, sure, let me try it.

[Asmodeus snaps his fingers, and a drink appears by his side.]

Asmodeus: Our Lost Boy's gonna do it! That's what I like to see.

Milo: Bottom's up.

Crowd: [Cheering]

[Milo downs the drink, then starts holding his stomach.]

Lola: Milo... are you, uh, okay?

Milo: [Vomits]

[Milo vomits out his conscience, a small, green version of himself.]

Milo's Conscience: What a strange occurrence.

Milo: What the fuck-shit happened.

Asmodeus: Milo and Lola, meet Milo's Conscience. Milo's Conscience, meet Milo and Lola.

Milo's Conscience: Charmed.

Milo: Ugh, this ugly fucking loser is my Conscience?

Lola: Well get it back in! How will he know to tip 15% or that it's not acceptable to slap mailmen?
Asmodeus: Read the room, Lola. This is a good thing.

Lola: Um, is Milo-- is he gonna be okay?
Asmodeus: He's better than "okay."

Lola: Hey, maybe you'll actually be cool for once, right? Hey try punching a jukebox. See if it turns on.
Asmodeus: No, you're still too in your head.

Lola: Avast, ye seadog! What unnatural devilry is this?!
Asmodeus: He's just shedding a little unneeded baggage.

Lola: Oh, cool, bro. Your Superego has legs! And a face! And all the other requisite parts!

Asmodeus: A Conscience is just what happens to your Ego if you watch too many kid shows with puppets. It's radiation growing tumors. We've just made Milo healthy, again. Without restraint or fear or societal hangups... Like putting the seat down just cause your wife can't find the light switch at night.

Milo's Conscience: What... is... happy?

Asmodeus: Get a drink and find out, you little scamp!

Milo's Conscience: How can one be happy, if others suffer? Instinct pursues procreation, which yet brings more suffering...

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern, and she appears before them.]

Wormhorn: Hey sailor! You look like you blew in on a stiff breeze. Wanna buy me a drink? I listened to some guy pitch me a timeshare and got his VIP seats.

Milo's Conscience: As long as you are-- are comfortable with the proffer, I-- I think I would very much enjoy that, yes.

[Wormhorn and Milo's conscience walk away.]

Milo: Wait, this little fucking nerd gets picked up like that?! I've tried just standing around before! It doesn't work!

Lola: Wait, little guy-- uh, I mean Conscience! Come back! Please? Milo kind of needs your guidance--
Milo: What? I don't need jack shit from that twerp, are you kidding? I feel great.

Lola: Wormhorn, you-- God damnit, come back with that thing! Shouldn't we-- isn't this something we should fix? Isn't it a little scary that my best friend's moral compass is gonna go get blown in the bathroom by our Personal Demon--

Lola: Hey, Milo, look at the little guy go. I guess without all your deep seated self-loathing, you'd be more successful... romantically speaking.
Milo: Oh, give me a break! Once he opens up to her about his owl fetish her legs will close up real quick.

Lola: Oh, what a scoundrel! Watch in his wake, Milo. Learn from that buccaneer how to woo the Jennies of the sea.
Milo: Oh, give me a break! Once he opens up to her about his owl fetish her legs will close up real quick.

[Asmodeus starts towards the elevator.]

Asmodeus: Alright, kiddos. There's a Dance Competition that needs tending to downstairs.

Milo: Wait, what? What about us having a drinking contest for the Seal?

Asmodeus: Hey, I'm a busy party-demon, you're fortunate to have stolen five minutes of party-time. But, look, I'll tell you what: how about instead you enter the Dance-off? If you win, I'll give you my Seal... It's more fun thank drinking. That's what Satan doesn't know. Dancing doesn't scare away your friends. I guess unless it was really scary dancing, but, still, even them.

Lola: Uh, yeah, maybe.
Milo: Oh please. This guy's just stringing us along, using us as temporary friends-- so he doesn't have to wallow in the sadness of divorced middle-aged single loser life.
Asmodeus: Hey you say tomato, I say-- well actually I say tomato, too, nobody says tomatto.

Lola: Um, what are-- what are the songs available? You probably don't have any Whitney Houston, right?
Asmodeus: Only her cover of "You Light Up My Life."

Lola: Sh'yeah right, like I'm just gonna buy that you'll give us your approval if we win a dance contest after your rant.
Milo: This guy's just stringing us along, using us as temporary friends-- so he doesn't have to wallow in the sadness of divorced middle-aged single loser life.
Asmodeus: Hey you say tomato, I say-- well actually I say tomato, too, nobody says tomatto.

Lola: Well prepare yourself, matey, 'cause we dance like sweet sirens! Wait, they-- they sing don't they? Whatever, by chantey or keel haul we will get that Seal.
Asmodeus: I'll get the wax ready.

Lola: Hey, c'mon, bro, can't you just, like, be cool? Huh? Be, like, super chill and give us the Seal now?
Milo: Oh please. This guy's just stringing us along, using us as temporary friends-- so he doesn't have to wallow in the sadness of divorced middle-aged single loser life.
Asmodeus: Hey you say tomato, I say-- well actually I say tomato, too, nobody says tomatto.

[Asmodeus leaves.]

Lola: Fuck. We need to get his wife, Beth, here. It's obvious he's covering old wounds, he's like me after Pilates. If we can-- if we can get them back together, he'll surely give us the--

Milo: Fuck that and fuck him and fuck her and fuck you, Lola, if you think I'm gonna help some fat demon get laid tonight. Let's just beat his ass in the dancing competition, make him surrender the damn seal with our fucking puma legs.

Lola: What the Hell are you talking about?

Milo: I don't wanna help others! I had the hardest time getting girls on Earth! And now you want me to be some Marriage Counselor to one of Satan's dropped testicles! No fucking way!

Lola: Okay, fine, American Psycho, we'll do the damn dance off.
Milo: That's what I'm talking about, mother fucker. That's-- he's gonna regret poking the bee hive, man!
Lola: This is really-- this is not good.
[Control switches to Milo.]

Lola: No, Milo, we're doing the wife thing. She seems-- she seems nice and... clean. For a demon. And I have faith that this will work out better than trying to out dance a creature that does nothing but party.
Milo: Ugh, fine, you stupid, stupid baby, that's-- that's just great. Whatever Mama Lola wants to do, I guess! Lead the damn way.
Lola: Thank you. Let's go to the Significant Cellar, then.
[Control switches to Lola.]

Milo: Hey, if cat got your tongue, then I'll gladly take over. We are doing that dance competition whether you like it or not, and we are winning, and that is the truth of the fucking universe!
Lola: Whatever. Lead the way. Let's put our names in the hat. Ugh. This sucks.
[Control switches to Milo.]

Milo: God, Lola you should get a shot of this, seriously-- it's-- It'll really melt all your stupid insecurities into the fucking toilet.

Lola: I'm not doing it. One of us needs to worry about stains on their pants.

Milo: To Hell with stains, I'm talking about-- I'm trying to-- humans are bungled and botched hordes, Lola, I'm really seeing that now-- The trivial majority that-- that plagues superior men with-- like that chick in that play! Why did I want to date that girl?! It's a-- it's a slave morality-- lashing yourself to this idea of romantic ideals! Of-- of partnership! Like that's important!

Milo: No, but-- but listen to me now, this-- I'm saying that romance isn't dead, it never had a pulse! Why lash yourself to someone else who'll just annoy the crap outta you! Right? You can get everything you want from life out of prostitutes. And talk to the TV when there's characters on it you like!

Lola: Oh my Lord, will you shut the Hell up! You sound like my guidance counselor after his four o' clock coffee.

Lola: Uh huh, yeah, yep, that's-- you're really hitting all the nails on all their heads, here.

Milo: I'm just saying you're half yourself when you're with somebody. It's just-- that's just math. You know? Beth left Asmodeus, the friggin' loser, for her job. And that's what you gotta do. Make somethin' other than dumb memories or idiot children. Marriage with kids is just future alimony and burning a seventy year old's life's worth of natural resources. It's downright immoral! Abstinence and selfishness, that-- that leads to success.

Milo: Just-- what I'm saying here is that you-- everyone should be focused on themselves. Getting married, having kids. It's just an illusion built on a temple to-- to-- to, uh, dumb shit. Wipe it away from your mind's eye, Lola! It's all-- it's all fraudulent!

Lola: Milo, I might agree with this pessimistic worldview - God knows I love a downer conversation-- But when you say it so forcefully it's a pretty big turnoff.
Milo: Well sometimes the truth needs to be spoken with effort.
Lola: Oh, what evil bureaucrat said that, huh? Judge Doom?

Lola: You're insane, Milo. You're two sentences away from trumpeting Napoleon.
Milo: Hey, at least-- at least-- at least the little guy knew what he wanted!
Lola: Sure.

Convincing Beth (Optional)[]

[If they agreed to pursue Beth, Lola is able to exit the club and head to The Significant Cellar with Milo. If they hadn't visited the bar before, Afterparty Transcript#Meeting Beth (Optional) will play before they enter.]

Lola: So... can we, uh, can we--

Bouncer: Only cats with zero moral fiber are allowed in here, love.

Milo: Move! Now!

Bouncer: ...eh, okay, you'll do.

Lola: Well, at least something good came out of this, uh, condition you're in.
Milo: 'Something good,' you say it like you don't think this is obviously great.
Lola: Yeah, glad you noticed that.

Lola: You know... I was kinda hoping that this wouldn't work.
Milo: Why?
Lola: Cause it's sad having outside confirmation that you're a total psychopath now.
Milo: I'm sure they're just grading on a curve.
Lola: That doesn't help you.

[They must enter The Significant Cellar.]

The Significant Cellar Bar Options[]

(Intro variants)

Significant Bartender: Hey, what can I get you two degenerates?
Significant Bartender: Want somethin' else? Cause it's free, so...
Significant Bartender: Need another?
Significant Bartender: Look who's back! It's you. Again. What do you want?
Significant Bartender: I guess Earth stopped making pretty people, huh. What do you need?
Significant Bartender: Insert snappy bartender greeting here, don't forget, signed the writer-- uh, I mean, what do you want?

Lola: I'll have the, uh-- I'll have a little Hydrophobia.
Lola: Gimme a Hydrophobia.
Lola: I guess I'll take a Hydrophobia.
Lola: A Hydrophobia this time, I think?
Lola: One, um... Hydrophobia.

Significant Bartender: Coming right up.

Lola: The, uh, Headless Groom.
Lola: A-- a Headless Groom?
Lola: The Headless Groom seems appetizing.
Lola: One Headless Groom, sir, if you kindly.
Lola: I guess I'll take a... Headless Groom.

Significant Bartender: Seems fitting for the mood, tonight.

Lola: A Tommy Gun sounds good right about now.
Lola: A Tommy Gun?
Lola: I was thinking, uh, Tommy Gun.
Lola: Tommy Gun come with bullets? No? Okay.
Lola: Gimme a Tommy Gun, thanks.

Significant Bartender: Ya know what? I agree.

Lola: Gimme an... Unmarked... Grave?
Lola: Put me in the Unmarked Grave.
Lola: That one-- the Unmarked Grave, yeah.
Lola: One Unmarked Grave, I guess.
Lola: Another Unmarked Grave. Or the first, maybe... I can't remember at this point.

Significant Bartender: Coming right up.

Conversation with Beth[]

[Lola and Milo will find Beth sitting with Betty and Veronica as a male servant dances on a podium for them.]

Beth: Less gyrating, uh, more hip action. There we go.

Dancing Human: I am sorry I am not more to your liking, Lady Behemoth.

Veronica: [giggles] Yes, is he not to your liking, Beth?

Dancing Human: Sorry.

Beth: No-- hush, Veronica. Boy-servant, you're doing fine. Just don't tire yourself out-- we bought you for the hour then it's back in the mouse trap.

Milo: God, that pirouetting loser reminds me of myself back when I had feelings.

Lola: Milo, feelings aren't a bad thing! Sometimes it's even good not to think so damn highly of yourself.
Milo: Eh, put it to music.
Lola: Will you just shut up? Let's go talk to her-- and stay behind me. And quiet.
Milo: Okay, MOM.

Lola: Yeah, I mean, when the band geeks tied you to the flagpole on Christmas Eve--
Milo: I would LOVE for them to try that shit now! Wouldn't they be surprised when I refused to hoist my own petard up there!
Lola: Will you just shut up? Let's go talk to her-- and stay behind me. And quiet.
Milo: Okay, MOM.

Milo: I'll take that as a yes, Milo, you were pretty fucking pitiful, which is honesty I appreciate!

[Milo and Lola must speak to Beth.]

Lola: Hi, uh, Beth... I don't know if you remember, but--

Milo: Your fat ass landed on me outside. Remember that? Or are you as forgetful as you are heavy.

Lola: I'm sorry, just-- just ignore him, Beth. He's not in his right mind. In fact, his Conscience is probably star-fucking his Anxiety right now, you know-- You know it sounds more complicated than it is--

Lola: Sweet Krishna, Milo, will you shut up for one second. Not having a Conscience shouldn't prevent you from not speaking--
Veronica: Do you know who you're talking to here, son?
Beth: It's fine, Veronica.

Lola: You know, I'd already forgotten about that. It was pretty-- it was pretty funny, c'mon.
Veronica: Do you two know who you're talking to here?
Beth: It's fine, Veronica.

Lola: Awww, it's a-- it's like a meet-cute. You know? First you hate each other, and then-- and then-- You know, you slip on the same icy sidewalk headed to the market and then--
Veronica: What the Hell are you talking about?
Beth: It's fine, Veronica.

Lola: Hey, Dollface. Put down the eel juice. You owe my man here a favor and I'm not talking about cigarettes.
Veronica: Do you two know who you're talking to here?
Beth: It's fine, Veronica.

Veronica: Do you know who you're talking to here, son?
Beth: It's fine, Veronica.

Beth: You had one of Asmodeus's little Forget-Me-Nots, right? Yeah, the comedown is intense-- Get a bucket and a shovel, don't try to be a hero.

Betty: He's cute, though.

Milo: Wait-- what, seriously?

Veronica: Oh, give me a break, Betty--

Betty: What, I'm serious. I have half a mind to drink him from a bottle.

Lola: Okay. But, what?
Betty: What. Gimme three minutes, I'll turn him into an accordion.
Beth: Don't make me tell you to hit the showers.

Lola: Yeah, okay, he's-- Milo's not himself, right now? He can't really consent to anything you'd have in mind.
Milo: Fuck you I can't consent, I'm standing right here-- You want a sobriety test-- want me to count backwards? Pick a number. Do it!

Lola: Yeah, you think so? He's more in the way right now, anyway, so take him. He's yours.
LoMiloa: What? I'm not going home with no devil, Lola. I don't care where she buys her dresses.

Lola: Oh, do I hear wedding bells? Milo, you've always wanted a June ceremony, right?
Milo: Hey, I'm not looking to get married, I'll be honest right now-- this horse is too wild to be tied down.
Betty: Do I look like I wanna get married?
Beth: Okay, hit the showers, Betty, seriously.

Lola: Yoo hoo? Lil' Miss Chippy? Keep your pearlies on me, not the goose I'm standing near, okay?
Beth: No I'm looking at you, too, you'll make a good garnish.
Beth: Okay, hit the showers, Betty, seriously.

Beth: Okay, hit the showers, Betty, seriously.

Beth: You guys want to get certified on Bicker? Is that it?

Betty: [Chuckling]

Beth: Cause I'm kinda havin' a thing here.

Lola: Okay, this is hard to talk about, but... Why did you leave Asmodeus? I mean, he seems nice enough? He certainly likes... fun?
Beth: Well I think that's a pretty personal question, don't you.

Lola: Look, um, Beth. We really need your help with something, and it's a little delicate to talk about...

Lola: Uh... What's with the, uh, the dancing dude?
Beth: You can rent hoofers here if you make a reservation.
Dancing Human: Only nine-nintey five for the first minute, and an extra fifteen-ninety five for every additional minute.
Beth: They're like gumballs. Sometimes you get unlucky.

Lola: I see the look in your eyes, Beth. I think you miss your husband. You miss his big strong arms and his way with the DVR and how he'd fix things around the house two months after you asked him--
Veronica: Hey, what is this--

Lola: Hey, can we-- can we dust outta here? Skoll was really hoppin' tonight. I think it's a laugher a classy dame like you would appreciate.
Beth: I bought a guy to dance for me, honey, and I don't like wasting... whatever it is we use down here for currency.

Significant Bartender: Hey, I just found a full barrel of Scaphism Honey Brandy! First come, first serve-- And you gotta drink it here, I'm not following you around with toilet paper.

Betty: Oo shit, Beth, do you want one?

Beth: No, I'm good. I've got the guy, here, so. And I think these two will entertain me a little, regardless.

Beth: Okay. You wanna know why I left my husband? I guess you're young enough to ask-- it's cause marriage doesn't work. It's like asking why humans can't breathe gasoline-- you weren't built for it.

Beth: So, saucer eyes. What do you want me to do for you.
Milo: We want you to get your shit together and get back with your husband so he'll be happy and sign a magical parchment.
Lola: Milo!

Milo: Beth--

Beth: I'm the first woman VP at Bicker. Okay? You know what that means? It means I get to spread the message... to every little girl... that they are useless except as corporate mechanisms for intercontinental cross-promotional marketing. And that's an honor I'm not going to take lightly. And I'm not about to let an insecure husband-- get in the way of that.

Lola: But Beth, the guy still obviously loves you! You talk the worst shit about the ones that really broke your heart!

Lola: Your damn job can't hug you and tell you you're special when you're feeling down, Beth. It can't massage your thighs when you've been doing spin class all day.
Beth: No, but it can buy all the lava-formed monsters I need to do those tasks for me.

Lola: C'mon, sister, get some! A job can't fill every need, if you know what I'm sayin'.
Beth: Actually it can. The corporate washroom has very long nozzles.

Lola: Beth, Beth, Beth! It's obvious to everyone with eyeballs that you're still madly in love with him. You tremble every time you say his name!
Beth: No, my boy-dancer's movements are creating a slight draft.

Lola: C'mon, girlie, you've been flimflammed by your own grift! Get out of the game while the goin' is still up for make-up sex?

Milo: Look, I don't give a shit whether you're into it or not. You need to come with us and get back together with that idiot.
Beth: I like the determination, guy, but I've been a salesman all my life. And you need to throw better fire than that to get me out of this chair.

Beth: Look, sweeties, it's nice of you to come over and everything... But if death is God's big joke, love is his one engineering flaw. Romance is the perfect engine to make toys for Him, it is, we fall hard and we fall often, but... That same engine can never handle the strain indefinitely. It always overheats... and breaks the fucking toy.

Milo: Beth, we need his damn Seal of Approval, okay? And he's not gonna give it unless you--

Beth: Boy-Servant. Pick up the pace, I'm growin' grass under my claws over here.

Dancing Human: Yes, your Ladyship.

[Milo and Lola leave.]

Milo: Ugh, Asmodeus must have told that stupid rhino-head she sounds like her damn mother or something-- cause she is never going back.

Lola: She talks a good game but I don't know about that... maybe somebody else has a better idea.

Milo: Whatever. I still think I can just dance him outta the building--

Lola: well I'm glad you're feeling confident. Let's figure this out.

[Milo and Lola can examine the jukebox.]

Lola: Mmmm... I don't recognize any songs. Except "Yummy Yummy I Got Love In My Tummy."

Conversation with Betty and Veronica[]

[Milo and Lola must speak to Betty and Veronica at the bar.]

Lola: Hey-- gals. Got a minute?

Betty: Depends. How many followers do you have on Bicker?

Lola: Uh, like, a-- a trillion? Is that a lot with dead people? Probably, right?
Betty: That's about nine hundred billion more people than ever existed.
Lola: Yeah, I'm like so popular I got, like, imaginary-- yeah nevermind I lied I'm sorry don't eat me.

Lola: Uh, we've got none, cause we're new. I hope that won't affect your opinion of us.
Veronica: It can only help! Cause, you know... you can't subtract less than zero--
Betty: Well, there are negative numbers--
Veronica: No, I'm thinking more like absolute zero, like particles aren't moving zero.

Lola: Uh, who the fuck cares how many followers I have? Are you serious? What if I said I have one follower: your Mom.
Betty: Well my Mom was the corpse of an African coyote--
Veronica: And my Mother was the tears of a forgotten murder victim.
Milo: So... you'd be impressed, yes?

Lola: I only need one follower, ladies. One. My soulmate. And he or she or it is out there somewhere, I just know it.
Veronica: That's very optimistic, you know, what with how you're talking right now.

Lola: Um, how many palookas do you have following your globhole, dame?
Betty: Six billion--
Veronica: Eight billion.
Betty: Okay. Well that's-- those are numbers--

Milo: As many feet I can fit up your boyfriend's ass, okay? So...
Veronica: So not very many.
Milo: No, to be honest, no. Not a lot, no.

Betty: Okay, listen, happy to meet you meat puppets, but we ain't here for a work promotion. We're here to get the Behemoth loaded so she gets her mind off Al.

Veronica: And you're kind of doing the exact opposite.

Milo: What do you mean? Why would she need that?

Betty: Cause the hellion won't shut up about him. "Did I make a mistake?"

Veronica: "Do you think he's gonna be okay?"

Betty: Is he seeing anyone-- have you heard?"

Lola: Okay, but is she-- is she happy? Cause--
Betty: Who the shit cares--
Veronica: All that makes her happy is remembering the time when they heard Nuts Buster by the Mysterious Lesions--

Lola: Wait, she still loves him? Or is she just-- like-- she's venting?
Veronica: All she still loves is the moment when they heard Nuts Buster by the Mysterious Lesions--

Lola: Ugh, how annoying. I hate when friends tell me their concerns and personal emotional trials.
Betty: Yeah, leave that baby shit for your journal. Or will.
Veronica: She just keeps babbling on about when they heard Nuts Buster by the Mysterious Lesions--

Lola: Aww, they need each other! It's fate! C'mon guys, this needs to happen!
Betty: No no no no, never again-- they were horrible together. I mean, they would show up to Game Night with like fucking notecards--
Veronica: All they'd talk about is their favorite song Nuts Buster by the Mysterious Lesions--

Lola: Alright, well, let's get these two loony loogans back together, get 'em back to, uh, back to pitchin' woo.
Betty: No no no no, never again-- they were horrible together. I mean, they would show up to Game Night with like fucking notecards--
Veronica: All they'd talk about is their favorite song Nuts Buster by the Mysterious Lesions--

Betty: I mean, they would show up to Game Night with like fucking notecards--
Veronica: All they'd talk about is their favorite song Nuts Buster by the Mysterious Lesions--

Veronica: "That's when we knew we would get married!"

Betty: I'm tired of talking about it! Let's get wasted and get her wasted and go home and piss to make more room for drinking!

Milo: Well, uh... good to know... that... I guess?

Lola: Well, we know she likes him still at least? It's nice to... have confirmation on that.

[Milo and Lola can now change the music on the jukebox.]

Lola: Holy fucker fuckstein, Milo, they have the damn song Beth's friends mentioned-- Mysterious Lesions - "Butts Nuster"-- I mean, "Nuts Buster."

Milo: Okay. Uh, great. I'm not really interested in expanding my musical knowledge right now.

[Lola is prompted to play Nuts Buster. If she lets the timer run out, she can go back and is prompted to do it again.]

Veronica: Oh Christ, not this shit again.

[The lights dim as Beth stands up, downs her shot, breaks the glass, and starts dancing. She punches the dancing human off his podium, then turns to Milo and Lola.]

Beth: Fine. Kids? Is Asmodeus over at Skoll?

Lola: Why... do you... ask?
Beth: Obviously it's because a manufactured piece of pop culture tripe designed to make me happy-- has just slightly missed the mark and made me melancholic. And I wanna see what I'm missing, now, so... whatever, let's see.
Milo: So, why'd you ask?

Lola: He is! He is at Skoll, he's, uh, he's upstairs, I think-- maybe. I mean, maybe by now he's in the bathroom, 'cause it's been a while but-- or--

Lola: Get that booty, girl! You deserve to be happy. You-- you deserve-- You can have it all. Don't let any-- any Nicholas Cage movies tell you you can't.

Lola: Oh my God, it's happening, it's really happening! Love is blooming! You can have it all. Don't let any-- any Nicholas Cage movie tell you you can't.

Lola: Molls and Mugs, Molls and Mugs, it's what makes the world go round, isn't it?

Milo: Thank God this stupid song worked. I mean, Jesus that was horrible! You actually-- ugh, now I'm like imagining you freaks making out to that garbage, it's just--

Beth: Let's just walk over.

Milo: Yeah, okay.

Leaving the Bar[]

[Beth runs to the exit, and Milo and Lola will pass Betty dancing on top of the bar counter as Veronica watches.]

Significant Bartender: There's a sixteen drink minimum for bar top dancing, ladies-- and you're under the legal limit.

Betty: Oh shuddaupya face.

[After Beth leaves, Milo and Lola must exit the bar.]

Beth: So just so you know, I'm not-- this isn't a guarantee that we're gonna, like... Like Asmodeus would take his shirt off and leave it on the ground, okay? Like not even on the ground but outside, in sand, and not put it in the hamper-- He'd also mispronounce words-- like he'd say "arctic" like "ARTIC." And I've sort of been on a few coffee dates with this Marketing Demon-- Erik. With a K-- Which I can, like, deal with, but... I'm only saying I'm just agreeing to meet up with Al, that's all.

Beth: No, I-- I understand completely. I mean, I haven't dated anyone, like, ever, but I have watched enough telenovelas with the sound off, so--

Lola: Beth, c'mon, he really misses you. You married him, right? There had to have been some connection--
Beth: The connection was we got drunk and I didn't want to go home cause it was raining frogs-- And that stuff doesn't just shower out, you gotta-- you gotta take a bath.

Beth: Look, I think this is probably for me more about closure, that's all. I want to know where he's at, and where I'm at, and... you know, just know that I'm doing better. Definitively.

Milo: Makes sense to me!

[As they enter the bar]

Yelling Demon: Yeah! Who wants to get laid tonight, baby?

[Beth snaps her fingers to light the demon on fire, and he runs off screaming.]

Beth: You know, I say I don't like being catcalled... but I have to admit, it somewhat validates the diet.

Lola: Okedoke, well, do you wanna--

Beth: If I'm gonna see Asmodeus, I'm gonna need a drink first, and not from the spitoon. I'll see if there's any Irish guys under thirty-five-- make myself a Whiskey and Blood Cranberry.

Lola: Oh, okay. Uh, we'll, uh--

Dj: It's time for the Dance Competition. Monsters of mayhem, kindly leave any weapons at coat check and please proceed to the dance floor.

Milo: Oh shit, son! It's time for the Dance Off. Asmodeus will be there for sure. Beth?

Beth: Yeah sure, I'll see ya there.

Lola: Well. After you.

[Control switches to Milo.]

Entering the Contest[]

Milo: Hey!

DJ: What?!

Milo: We're entering the GOD DAMN competition, mother trucker.

DJ: Ooh, somebody's confident.

Milo: I just hope your security cameras got extra film-- Cause God himself is gonna whack off to the footage from tonight by the time I'm through with that dance floor out there. Yeeahhhhhhhh!

Milo: A hundred million miles an hour, baby, I live for this shit! You think anyone's got anything on me! You think any of these freaks got my cavalcade of moves!?

Milo: Fuckkkk yeahhhhh I'm confident! I don't have my little twerp mind roommate telling me I can't eat pizza every day anymore! Stand back, world, cause Milo's finally here to shine!

DJ: ...Okay. Great. Just put your name down on the dotted line and don't leave. We'll text you when you're ready to go on.

Lola: Okay. This is real now, so... and I know you're gonna have... issues with this... But please, for me, let's get your Conscience back first--

Milo: What?! No way!

Lola: Milo... you need a particle of self-awareness to dance well at all. I know you think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread right now-- But trust me... You want a little bit holding you back.

Milo: That's a good god damn point, you crazy butterfly of a friend in my life! Always with the good points! Always-- let's-- let's do it!

Milo: I wanna win, damnit! But I also want to feel unrestrained! But unrestrained dancing is sports arena dancing, and that dancing sucks! It's a-- it's a conundrum, is what it is!
Lola: Milo! C'mon! You know it's the right thing to do.
Milo: You're always-- always with the good points, Lola! You're a smart cookie, and I'm not afraid to admit that! Let's do it!

Milo: You're trying to hold me back, is what's happening-- I can-- I can see it! You think you can put the clamps down on the Milo train! You think you can derail this Thunder Railroad from being all that he can--
Lola: Milo! C'mon! People that don't care what other people think dance like parents at weddings. You don't need your damn Conscience to be smart about this.
Milo: You're-- that's a good point! You're a smart cookie, and I'm not afraid to admit that! Let's do it!

Lola: We're getting him back.

Lola: Now... I think he went downstairs to the VIP section with Wormhorn...

Milo: Fuck that guy!

Lola: Okay, just so I-- why are you always yelling now?

Milo: Cause everyone should hear what I have to say!

Lola: [Sigh]

Retrieving Milo's Conscience[]

[Milo and Lola can overhear Wormhorn and Milo's conscience speaking in the VIP section.]

Wormhorn: So... living inside Milo can't be too easy. I've seen that guy's sexual hangups. Yeesh.
Milo's Conscience: People rightly feel shame after sex for sex brings new shame into the world.
Wormhorn: Yeah but only if you forget to wrap it up. So! First date questions, um... what's your, like, sign anyway?
Milo's Conscience: Um, Year of the Dog? Does that-- is that what you would want?
Wormhorn: Honestly - and don't tell anyone this - it only affects your time of the month.

Milo's Conscience: No, I-- I want to be optimistic, but it's hard in the current political climate.
Wormhorn: Which climate is that? Is McDonald still the PM?
Milo's Conscience: I mean political more in the sense of-- of community? Solipsism seems... rampant.
Wormhorn: Yeah well life's like a box of chocolates or whatever, listen-- you got any blow?
Milo's Conscience: I don't believe I do.

Milo's Conscience: Why do I-- why do I feel bad just being here?
Wormhorn: Well... you're in Hell for starters. And two, I think Milo's got you wearing Orthopedic trainers. What the crap are these shoes, man?
Milo's Conscience: Are these... out of fashion? Is fashion... a good thing to care about?
Wormhorn: It's the only thing to care about, ask any living organism-- You don't look good, you don't fuck, period, exclamation point. I mean maybe unless you're one of those penguins that build those little stone statues.
Milo's Conscience: That's... unfortunate.

[Milo and Lola can attempt to get into the VIP section.]

Wormhorn: Speaking of which-- actually, it's so funny, I binge watch shows all the time, too. I didn't know anybody else used that term-- "binge." Haha. It's so naughty.

Milo's Conscience: Well, I don't know about that. It's just a poetically accurate phrase for consuming entertainment at an unsustainable rate.

Milo: Hey!

Skoll Bouncer: Yes.

Milo: Lemme in there!

Skoll Bouncer: Are you on the list, sir? Because if you aren't, I'll have to ask you to leave the immediate area.

Milo: Mph! Fuck you! You're mean and it's upsetting me!

Milo: I'm better than you! I'm a human being, with organs to breathe and eat cheese with! What the Hell do you have?! A-- a carapace, or-- actually what are you things made of?

Milo: I'm counting to five! When I reach four, it's clobbering time!
Lola: No, no-- it's-- no-- no, we'll just-- we have a friend in there who needs our help from an abusive relationship.
Skoll Bouncer: You'll have to be more specific.

Lola: Look, sir, we need to get to our friend in there. Our Personal Demon's messing with our adventure, and it's-- it's really put a snag in our plans.
Skoll Bouncer: I hear that a lot, and, no, that's not a good enough reason.

Wormhorn: What can I say, man-- your Morality Thermometer just likes me better!

Lola: He doesn't like you better, he's just young and stupid and is attracted to wounded souls!

Milo's Conscience: I do-- I guess I do have a-- a type.

Milo: Hey, that's my Conscience you're talking about! That little moron's perfect! Like me!

Lola: Just shush! We'll find another way round.

[Milo and Lola can attempt to check in for the dance competition.]

Milo: Checking in, idiot. God, you look stupid. Do you-- do you realize how stupid you look? I'm just-- I just want you to know.

DJ: Eh, wait a second. I'm smelling something weird with you. You don't have a Conscience, right? Yeah, no dancing without all of your cognitive processes, it's downright cheating if you don't have moral turpitude in a night club.

[Milo and Lola can overhear the DJ speaking to the crowd.]

DJ: We're gonna keep spinnin' for you pretty demons, but if, uh, if you have any requests-- Shuffle on down to the Suggestion Box, it's at the top of I-don't-give-a-shit mountain... right after I Don't Care If Your Mother Dies Valley.

DJ: I've had some questions about people being forced to dance, like, can't stop unless they're flayed-- And yes, you must keep dancing if instructed by your Audit Demon. Failure to comply will result in a weeklong stay in the Grand Hotel of Searing Intestinal Pain. And no they do not have Eggs Continental, so... plan-- plan ahead.

[After attempting to get into the VIP section, Milo and Lola can interact with the upstairs balcony.]

Milo: Oooh that little-- the bouncer thinks he got the best of me--

Lola: Of us--

Milo: But he's got another thing coming! I can see straight down on that asshole's head from here.

Lola: Great. How does that help us?

Milo: It, uh, doesn't!
Lola: I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe if you were drunker you'd get an idea...
Milo: I already have all the best ideas! Like a pair of jeans you can exercise in!
Lola: Well... that's actually a good one.

[Continue to "Milo gets on the balcony railing."]

Lola: C'mon. I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe a drink will loosen the cobwebs.

Milo: I'm a living symbol of triumph!

Lola: Milo! What the fuck are you--

[Milo dives off the balcony and lands directly on the bouncer.]

Wormhorn: Cheese and rice, are you kidding me? You-- you really shattered your pelvis just to get your dull-faced insecurities back!?

Milo's Conscience: That was really unsafe, Milo.

Milo: Gimme a-- gimme a-- gimme a minute here.
Wormhorn: ...Sure.
Milo: Conscience you little dweeb! I hate how you think and I hate how you dress but we got a dance competition to win.
Milo's Conscience: Do we? Will it help the general populace or just ourselves?
Lola: Um... everyone.

Milo: You know what? Ow! That really fucking hurt!

Milo: Get the-- Gimme a-- gimme a-- gimme a minute here.
Wormhorn: ...Sure.
Milo: Get the Hell out of my face, Wormhorn. I am not fucking around with you!

Wormhorn: Fine! Fine, I-- I'm not going to embarrass you Milo, I'm not going to-- drag this little mistake of evolution into the sewers with me and turn him into a real Man. Even though I could. I'm just gonna give you this one. You know why I'm giving you this one? Cause things...

[Another demon jumps from the balcony and lands on Wormhorn, causing her to dissipate.]

Falling Demon: Yeah, hahaha! That was fun as shit! Good idea, mate, I don't know why nobody thought to do that before!

[The demon walks off.]

Milo's Conscience: Permission to come aboard!

[Milo and his conscience re-merge.]

Lola: Milo... are you... are you alright?

Milo: Right... right as rain. I think. I'm... concerned about pandas again, so... I think I'm doing okay.
Lola: Oh thank God. Fear is a lubricant to success... is something I wish I'd never said now.

Milo: Well, it was fun while it lasted thinking I was awesome.
Lola: You are awesome, Milo. You don't need to be uninhibited by all social laws to feel it. Okay?

[Milo receives a text.]

DJ: [text] Last chance to sign up for the dance competition!

DJ: [text] Reply STOP to unsubscribe from DJ ALERTS

Milo: [text] STOP
DJ: [text] Your request has been IGNORED! Thank you for using DJ ALERTS

Milo: [text] How did you get this number?
DJ: [text] Command not recognized! Thank you for using DJ ALERTS

Milo: Guess-- guess it's time. Wish I could get a few minutes to just, like, lie down for a second. God, I was really passionate about love being a total crock, huh?

Lola: Yeah whatever-- we can psychoanalyze your spirit quest later, you gotta dance your face off right now! I will be there-- not dancing, I want to be clear about that-- but very much cheering you on!

Milo: Alright, let's-- let's do it.

The Dance Contest[]

Milo: I'm here to check in for the uh-- the dance competition.

DJ: You seem a little different. Not that I'm complaining, believe me.

Lola: Who's he up against?

DJ: Asmodeus. Who else?

Asmodeus: Ready when you are, kid.

Lola: Ugh, whatever. You can take him, Milo, you-- you got your mojo back. Think of Stella and her myriad grooves!

DJ: Just please proceed to the dance floor when ready.

[Milo must go to the dance floor.]

DJ: Heyooo, we got-- I said we got some gladiators in the ring, y'all. Are you guys ready for the-- the-- the-- nightly Skoll Dance Competition!

Crowd: [cheering]

DJ: In this corner, we got a little known Angel of Mercy we like to call Asmodeeuuuss!

Crowd: [cheering]

Asmodeus: Save me some chili cheese fries, okay?

DJ: And in that corner, we got a sack of potato skins his Momma liked to call Sang Bong!

Crowd: [crickets]

Milo: Hey, I'm-- aren't we all just here to have-- to have fun?

Milo: Hey, hope I-- hope I win this-- this thing...

Milo: Argh, beware the black spot, matey, for it tolls for thee!

Milo: Hey, better make some room, dudes. My moves are a little out there!

Asmodeus: "Light seeking light doth light of light beguile,--" you know what that means, kid? It means you can't learn anything in books. You gotta live life. Really live it, live it till you leave Death nothing but a corpse. So I hope you do okay, here, tonight-- I really do. 'Cause I think you got a lot left in the tank.

[Beth appears in the crowd.]
Asmodeus: Beth? Oh my God, my God-- that's my ex-wife. Okay, delete the whole pep talk thing-- You gotta take a dive.
Milo: What?!
Asmodeus: I'll give you the Seal. I'll sign your stupid parchment-- I'll fuckin' co-sign a lease on a tractor with you, just-- I can't fail in front of Beth. This is like God Himself has given me another chance. And I really don't want to screw it up.

Yeah, I'll take a dive.
No fucking way.
Yeah, I'll take a dive.

Milo: Uh, sure? I mean, once the competition gets goin', who knows. I don't wanna make any promises my body can't keep--
Asmodeus: Yeah yeah yeah, great, whatever, just sell it.

No fucking way.

Milo: No. Sharting. Way. Dude. You are going to eat it hard in front of Satan's legions and your own lost love-- Cause I don't know the meaning of the word "dive."
Asmodeus: It's-- um, I actually-- I don't know if really don't know the meaning or--

Shut up and dance.
Save your energy.
You're dead already, you just don't know it. (Drunk)
Shut up and dance.

Milo: Shut up and dance like you've never danced before, demon. Cause believe you me... you're gonna need to.

Save your energy.

Milo: Save your energy. Cause believe you me... you're gonna need it. For the-- for the dancing. Just in case that wasn't clear.

You're dead already, you just don't know it. (Drunk)

Milo: Asmodeus, you're dead already. You just don't know it.
Asmodeus: No, actually-- I do know it, I'm a-- I'm a dem--
Milo: Just-- just shut up.

DJ: Okay, gentleman dancers, this is how it works! You, Milo, copy Asmodeus's moves as best you can! Alright, gentlemen! Start! Your! Screwing!

[A pause.]

DJ: I mean dancing-- shit, I forgot which contest I was at for a second--

[If Milo has a drink, he tosses it aside. The dance-off commences.]

Asmodeus: This move I call "The Very Rich Hours of the Duke of Barry..."
Asmodeus: Your turn, Milo!
Asmodeus: Copy that, if you can!
Asmodeus: And this move I call "Ixion Precipated in the Underworld..."
Asmodeus: Make way for Asmodeus!
Asmodeus: Watch and study and maybe learn a little, kid.
Asmodeus: Don't be embarrassed if you can't keep up.
Asmodeus: I make it look pretty easy, right? Hope you were paying attention.
Asmodeus: Nothin' four hundred years of dance lessons can't teach.
Asmodeus: Just do what I just did!
Asmodeus:It ain't hard, if you're watching the leg work.

Asmodeus: Just like that, now.
Asmodeus: Hey, good. Good job.
Asmodeus: Hey, you're better than you think!
Asmodeus: Okay, slow down, kid.
Asmodeus: Yeah, good one, guy.
Asmodeus: Uh, yeah, you're, uh, doing well.

Asmodeus: Ooh, nice try.
Asmodeus: Yeah, that's not gonna cut it with this crowd, kid.
Asmodeus: Close? Maybe? It's hard to tell from this angle.

[After the dance-off is over, confetti falls.]

(Won)
(Lost)
(Won)

DJ: And the winner is-- [quietly] what's his name? Oh-- [louder] Milo!
Lola: Milo! Holy shit!
Milo: Right?! I know!
Asmodeus: Yeah you won, that's-- okay, I guess today is Opposite Day, that's-- it's fine, I'm not-- this isn't painful.
[Beth walks up to them.]
Beth: Al, heyyyy. It's, uh, been a little while.
Asmodeus: I wanted to, uh, dedicate that dance to you but that-- they didn't give me the chance!
Beth: Yeah no that would've-- I'm just glad you didn't. It wouldn't have made me happy to hear that.
Asmodeus: Oh, okay.

He did try his best, Beth.
He was pretty terrible, right?
He did try his best, Beth.

Milo: Hey, he tried his best, Beth. He just didn't know what he was up against.
Lola: A guy that's crapped his pants three non-consecutive times at the public pool.
Milo: Yessiree bob!

He was pretty terrible, right?

Milo: Boy, for being the self-proclaimed Demon of Partying, you're a really terrible dancer. Right-- right, Beth? Isn't he-- isn't he bad?
Asmodeus: Yeah, I'm still recovering from that Frisbee Golf injury, okay?

Beth: I just wanted to come by and say Hello. See how you're... holding up.
Asmodeus: I'm holding up great, I'm really-- I'm taking a little, uh, "me" time, you know?
Beth: Yeah, you said you were going to.
Asmodeus: Yeah are you seeing that tax attorney guy? The one with the-- what's his name? Jacob?
Beth: Don't you have some business with these people, Al?
Asmodeus: I do! I do. I'm-- I'm helping out, uh, these guys with their, uh, their "quest." You did, uh, you did good out there, kid. And a deal's a deal. Here's my Official Seal of Approval!
[Asmodeus' Seal is added to their parchment.]
Asmodeus: Hope you get everything you deserve.
Lola: Yeah. Hopefully.

(Lost)

DJ: And the winner is-- Asmoodddeeeuusss!
Asmodeus: Hey, how about that? You gave it your all, kid, you really did, it was fun goin' against you.
[Beth walks up to them.]
Asmodeus: [faking surprise] Oh! Beth! How long were you standing there? Long-- long time no see, did-- did you catch the show?
Beth: Yes, actually, I did, Asmodeus. You look, uh, you look good, even, uh, despite the hatwear. I have to say, I'm surprised... all the centuries I asked you to take me dancing--
Asmodeus: If you had moves like young Milo here maybe I would've!
Beth: [laughing] Oh stop it. You card.
Asmodeus: [chuckling]
Beth: [laughing]

He's great, right, Beth?
Man, get a room.
He's great, right, Beth?

Milo: Yeah, Asmodeus is really great, he, uh, he really helped us out tonight.

Man, get a room.

Milo: God, barf! Get a room if you're gonna be all with this meet-cute nonsense.

Beth: Um, do you have, um, business with these people...?
Asmodeus: Right! Right, yes-- Milo, Lola, for, um, being a really good sport about things... Here's my Official Seal of Approval!
[Asmodeus' Seal is added to their parchment.]
Asmodeus: And, uh, Beth... wanna get a drink or something? Catch up?
Beth: I got an early morning call, but... whatever, I'm the boss.
Asmodeus: [sigh] Gonna throw your 401k in my face, again, huh--
Beth: [over him] Just get me a fucking drink.
Asmodeus: And kids, text me if you ever wanna hang out!
Milo: Will do!
Lola: Yeah no never-- but thanks.

(Won)
(Lost)
(Won)

DJ: And the winner is-- [quietly] what's his name? Oh-- [louder] Milo!
Lola: Milo! Holy shit!
Milo: Right?! I know!
Asmodeus: Wow! That was-- that was something'. Great dancing, kid, one in a million. I'm really impressed, I gotta say. You really-- You really hit those beats correctly and affirmatively.

You tried your best!
You were pretty terrible, right?
You tried your best!

Milo: Hey, you did well, too, Al. You just didn't know what he was up against.
Lola: A guy that's crapped his pants three non-consecutive times at the public pool.
Milo: Yessiree Bob!

You were pretty terrible, right?

Milo: Boy, for being the self-proclaimed Demon of Partying, you're a really terrible dancer.
Asmodeus: I'm still recovering from that frisbee golf injury, okay?

Lola: So... How about's it?
Asmodeus: [sigh] Yeah, you did good out there, kid. You earned it. Here's my Official Seal of Approval!
[Asmodeus' Seal is added to their parchment.]
Asmodeus: Text me if you ever wanna hang out!
Milo: Will do!
Lola: Yeah no never-- but thanks.

(Lost)

DJ: And the winner is-- Asmoodddeeeuusss!
Asmodeus: Hey, how about that? You gave it your all, kid, you really did, it was fun goin' against you.
Lola: Okay, uh, Al, I know we lost, but, uh, can we, uh, still get your Seal? You know, like a participation trophy? Runner up tote bag?
Asmodeus: Wanna try again?
Lola: Let's go! C'mon, Milo, just follow the steps.
Milo: It's harder than it looks, okay?
[The contest repeats.]

Milo & Lola's Argument[]

[Afterwards, Milo and Lola exit Club Skoll.]

Milo: Beth... that-- she had a strong personality, right? I'm thinking of Demi Moore in Disclosure--
Lola: Ben? Who's Ben--?
Milo: Beth -- "Beth," the Behemoth-- As-- Asmodeus's ex? I don't know how those two ever got together. But maybe you just-- you just get what you can get down here.

She was a piece of work.
You were worse!
She was a piece of work.

Lola: Yeah, she was kind of a piece of work. I don't know how demons can be so career focused. Upward mobility must be pretty limited--

You were worse!

Lola: Gimme a break-- you were worse , Milo! After Asmodeus's drink you acted like Paul after he snorted all those boner pills.

Milo: I guess I just don't know why we even roped her into it at all, you know? I feel like sometimes you do things just to see how far you can, like, push it.
Lola: So this is your nonsensical way to talk about me moving away, again--
Milo: I didn't say anything about moving--
Lola: Yes, "moving" is needlessly complicating things to you, right?
Milo: Well now that we're on the subject, why are you--
Lola: Cause you can burn the swap meet and the drive-in and the all-night diner to the ground, Milo-- I want new experiences and to feel good about my life.

(Helped Lynda)
(Interrogated Greg)
(Interrogated Eliza)
(Helped Lynda)

Milo: I have to hit on Lynda while you sit back and enjoy the show-- Everything always comes up Lola Woolfe. Me and you will just be a footnote in your autobiography... "How I Got Awesome--" "The Story of Lola Woolfe and How She Moved Away From Home."

Are you serious with this?!
You wanted to talk to her!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Lola: What are you-- are you really bringing up that Mercury Wyrm woman from like two hours ago? Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

You wanted to talk to her!

Lola: You wanted to chat up the dead lounge singer, Milo, Jesus-- Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: But just forget it.

(Interrogated Greg)

Milo: We took your lead with Greg the dead guy, and you'll do what you want with this, too-- Everything always comes up Lola Woolfe. Me and you will just be a footnote in your autobiography... "How I Got Awesome--" "The Story of Lola Woolfe and How She Moved Away From Home."

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry you didn't talk then!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Lola: What are you-- are you really bringing up that skeeze bag from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

ddddddd2

Lola: Oh Lord, well I'm sorry we didn't go after the wrong person, Milo-- I'm sorry I was right! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: But just forget it.

(Interrogated Eliza)

Milo: I fucked up with the drunk girl at the bar so I guess you're always right about everything!
Milo: Everything always comes up Lola Woolfe. Me and you will just be a footnote in your autobiography... "How I Got Awesome--" "The Story of Lola Woolfe and How She Moved Away From Home."

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry you were wrong!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Lola: What are you-- are you really bringing up that woman, Eliza, from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?
Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.

Well I'm sorry you were wrong!

Lola: Oh Lord, well I'm sorry we went after the wrong person, Milo-- I'm sorry I was right! Like, did Wormhorn become a brain parasite? Is she eating your cerebellum? What is going on?

Milo: Nothing is going on. Forget it.
(Say nothing.)

Milo: But just forget it.

Milo: The, uh, the heat is probably just getting to me.
Lola: Well... I hope that's it. Cripes.

Lola: So... shit got a little crazy after that, uh-- after Asmodeus's drink, huh. Seriously, you were going like Paul after he snorted all those boner pills. Do you, uh, remember any of it? Not that I need you to relive the, uh, the experience...

Sorry about that.
Blame the alcohol, not me!
Sorry about that.

Milo: Yeah, uh, sorry about that. I felt like when my parents accidentally left me overnight in that toy store...

Blame the alcohol, not me!

Milo: Yeah, well, blame the alcohol, okay, not-- not me, I didn't know what the Hell I was saying, half the time.

Lola: I know, and I'm not even saying it was, like, all bad, actually... It was... good to see you... kind of out there, just letting loose? In a weird way? Trying something new--?
Milo: Ah, so this is really about me staying in town after school.
Lola: Hey, I haven't said anything about you staying--
Milo: Oh please! "Trying something new" is what you're doing by moving, right? I'm sorry that my Mom needs help, okay, Lola-- I'm like her "emotional support parrot." My Dad remarried in three months and she's all alone with nothing but her store.

(Helped Lynda)
(Interrogated Eliza)
(Interrogated Greg)
(Helped Lynda)

Lola: You never talked up one girl at school and then suddenly you demand to hit on Lynda? You go back and forth, back and forth-- It's just hard to know what target you're aiming at next!

Are you serious with this?!
You could have talked!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Milo: What are-- are you really bringing up Lynda with the invites from like two hours ago? Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

You could have talked!

Milo: Wh-- you could have talked , Lola! I asked and you said it was okay! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: But just-- just forget it.

(Interrogated Eliza)

Lola: You never talked up one girl at school and then you suddenly demand to talk up Eliza? When it was obvious it was Greg! You go back and forth, back and forth-- It's just hard to know what target you're aiming at next!

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry for being wrong!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Milo: What are you-- are you really bringing up that drunk girl from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

Well I'm sorry for being wrong!

Milo: Christ, Lola, I'm sorry for being wrong like two hours ago. I thought we were a-- a team! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: But just-- just forget it.

(Interrogated Greg)

Lola: You were too scared to talk to Eliza and let me go after Greg-- after whining to me for years about not chatting up girls at school! You go back and forth, back and forth-- It's just hard to know what target you're aiming at next!

Are you serious with this?!
Well I'm sorry I was right!
(Say nothing.)
Are you serious with this?!

Milo: What are you-- are you really bringing up that drunk girl from the bachelor party? That was like two hours ago! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

Well I'm sorry I was right!

Milo: Christ, Lola, I'm sorry my instincts were right and I agreed with you that it was Greg! Is this-- is this a Wormhorn thing? Like, what the Hell is going on with you right now--?
Lola: Nothing is going on. Just forget it.

(Say nothing.)

Lola: But just-- just forget it.

Lola: My shoes are... finally starting to give way, I think, it's just-- that's all. Nevermind.
Milo: Well... we'll walk a little slower, then. Cripes.

[Milo and Lola must enter the elevator in Thrall City. The elevator comes to a halt halfway down.]

Lola: Um... this is new.

Milo: Did I ever tell you my completely unfounded fear of elevators getting stuck with me in one?

Lola: Please don't start peeing in the corner or something.
Milo: Well, only cause you insisted.

Lola: It'll be alright, Milo, it's-- it's gonna start up again in no time.

Milo: Not that I should be afraid of anything now, of course...

Wormhorn: [Laughing]

Milo: Oh c'mon!

Wormhorn's Asmodeus Review[]

Lola: [Yelps]

Milo: [Screams]

[The screen cuts to Wormhorn's pattern, and Milo and Lola fall into her projector room.]

Wormhorn: Elevators typically only kill thirty people per year, Milo. Of course, that doesn't take into account how many people are murdered inside an elevator, so... Who's to say your next trip up the lift won't be your last?

[Her projector sputters to life.]

Wormhorn: But let's take a look at what terribly excruciating memories are burning up the charts! Coming in at number three-- I can't believe it's so low...

[The slide switches to Milo hugging his conscience.]

Wormhorn: Milo taking the time to regain his Conscience! What a horribly inefficient way to use company time-- unless, of course, you were just scared to finally let your inner monologue finally act on your behalf?

Milo: I wasn't myself without him, Wormhorn, I felt like I was wearing, like, ill-fitting clothes or something.
Wormhorn: Your grandmother didn't knit you a purple sweater, man, you were free to do whatever the fuck you wanted! And you bottled it all up inside the absolutely fastest you could! Shame.
Lola: Wormhorn--

Milo: Hey, I could tell Lola was getting freaked out, alright, and I wanted to--
Lola: Excuse me? I was not getting "freaked out," but you were completely freaking out-- like in a bad, slap-me-across-the-face-in-a-movie kind of way.
Milo: It was not that bad.

Lola: We got it back because it was the smart thing to do, not because he was scared--

Wormhorn: And speaking of dancing, coming in at Number Two...

(Convinced Beth)
(Didn't convince Beth)
(Convinced Beth)

Wormhorn: Milo won the competition! How ridiculously stupid to have actually played along with this shit. I don't know if you know what you looked like out there... but there will be people checking their insurance tomorrow to see if PTSD is covered. Ask around if you don't believe me. It wasn't a pretty sight.

(Didn't convince Beth)

Wormhorn: Milo won the competition! How ridiculously stupid to have actually played along with this shit when you got Beth to come with you-- and then didn't do what Asmodeus wanted! You know you could have been like buds with that guy, right? I wonder if that would've come in handy at some point!

It's good to win things!
I couldn't contain myself!
It's good to win things!

Milo: It's good to win things, Wormhorn, what do you expect me to say here, exactly?!
Wormhorn: Oh, I dunno. ‘I'm a giant loser who will willingly mimic slow, repetitive prompts with my quickly evaporating free time?'
Milo: What is that supposed to--

I couldn't contain myself!

Milo: I couldn't contain myself! Okay, I-- I never get to win stuff like that, and I wanted to live it out when no one I knew was around.
Lola: Hey!
Milo: I mean no one I knew who I cared what they thought-- wait, this is making it worse.

Wormhorn: Milo lost the competition! You gave up the golden goose for Asmodeus, the guy that designs how humans get tortured in Hell. Talk about a betrayal of the natural order-- you roll on your back cause a demon can remember your first fuckin' name? Where's your spine? Where's your-- your sense of honor?

No, I just sucked.
I wanted to help Asmodeus!
No, I just sucked.

Milo: Yeah, I sucked, alright?! What do you want me to say?
Wormhorn: Oh, I dunno. ‘I'm a giant loser who will willingly mimic slow, repetitive prompts with my quickly evaporating free time?'
Milo: What is that supposed to--

I wanted to help Asmodeus!

Milo: Hey, so I wanted to help Asmodeus, alright? It worked out, we-- we got the Seal and got them together.
Lola: And his said to text if we needed anything--
Milo: Yeah, exactly.
Wormhorn: Oh, he said to ‘text', did he? Turn on read receipts-- see if you ever get a ding from that asshole.x

(Haven't done Apollyon's quest yet)

Wormhorn: And the new number one recollection on this completely made-up list is...

(Chose "The leader running things.")
(Chose "The woman with the family.")
(Chose "The leader running things.")

Wormhorn: Oh... oh shoot, how'd this one get in here... It looks like a picture of Lola not fulfilling her lifelong goal of becoming a powerful leader of industry...

(Chose "The woman with the family.")

[The slide switches to the image of Lola drinking form a wine glass.]
Wormhorn: Oh... oh shoot, how'd this one get in here... I t looks like a picture of Lola not fulfilling her lifelong goal of becoming a family woman...

Wormhorn: [sighs] Tsk tsk. What a shame, really.

I see what you're doing.
(Sarcastic) Oh no!
(Say nothing.)
I see what you're doing.

Lola: Yeah, okay, I can see what you're doing and, you know, when you can tell the magician studied really hard-- the trick kinda loses some of its flair, you know?
Wormhorn: What do you mean? I didn't do this! It must have been, uh... Whatever, moving on--

(Sarcastic) Oh no!

Lola: Oh my God, no! How-- how did you find these clearly divine images?
Wormhorn: What do you mean? I didn't do this! It must have been, uh... Whatever, moving on--

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Anyways, moving on...

Wormhorn: And the new top-ranked ‘What the Hell were they thinking' thing they did is...

Wormhorn: ...Get Asmodeus and Beth back together again! Yeah, let's take a volatile, childish, dangerously corpulent torture chamberist-- and put him back together with a self-obsessed marketing executive that listens to the Eagles. Cause that'll work--

[The slide switches to Beth drinking with her friends.]
Wormhorn: ...Not get Asmodeus and Beth back together again! Really, guys? This was a layup! How many ways do they have to spell shit out for you? And when has getting two people into a relationship not been beneficial, except for the vast majority of times?

Lola: Enough, Wormhorn! Can it and open the doors!

Wormhorn: What?! I'm trying my best! I've been to the-- the Akashic records and back-- I've been through your brain journals, your memory palaces... You're not exactly giving me snuff films and spy movies, here.
Milo: Let us... go.
Wormhorn: No. You know what-- why should I? Tell me-- Why don't I just keep you here. Why don't I just-- I just burn time till there's nothing left.

Because it's more fun the other way?
Don't even joke, asshole.
(Say nothing.)
Because it's more fun the other way?

Lola: Uh, because it's more fun to let us out and watch us try? And fail? Than sitting in this dark room on your first night in existence?
Wormhorn: I guess... that's hard to argue.

Don't even joke, asshole.

Lola: Seriously, Wormhorn, don't even joke about it. I'll find a fucking way to end you, I swear it. I'll become a damn... witch, okay? You don't want me down here any more than you need to.

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Why don't I just become a crippling depression and just make you stay in bed, huh?
Milo: I don't know, Wormhorn. But I don't think you know, either.

Wormhorn: Ugh, whatever. Just remember... I know which one of you likes to be spanked... I know which one you likes to get their hair pulled... I know which one of you hates themselves so much they hate their parents for the idea... And I know which one of you hates the other one... almost as much. Think about it! Bye!
Milo: That bit's not getting any fresher, I can tell you that much.
[A pause.]
Milo: I don't hate you, by the way.

I don't hate you either.
I know.
I don't hate you either.

Lola: Yeah, I don't hate you either.

I know.

Lola: Yeah, I figured.

Wormhorn: What's the matter with you, guys?! Don't you-- don't you appreciate the amount of work I've put into this?!
Milo: Why would we appreciate this?!
Lola: All we care about is... is each other, and just getting out, and this is not helping!
Wormhorn: All you care about is each other. No one cares about Wormhorn. Wouldn't it be nice if Wormhorn had someone to rub on her shoulders? If Wormhorn had someone to help cheat at Marco Polo? If Wormhorn had an extra two arms to give herself hugs?

I mean, you're okay?
Nope, nobody cares about you.
(Say nothing.)
I mean, you're okay?

Lola: I mean... you're, like, okay...
Milo: You're just, like, kind of really annoying.
Lola: Yeah.
[A pause.]
Lola: Wormhorn?

Nope, nobody cares about you.

Lola: You hit it right on the money, Mary, absolutely, nobody cares about you. People pay good money to get permanently rid of brain-stains like you, okay? So if you think I'm gonna get sad cause my irrational fear of tornadoes suddenly feels lonely, you are sadly, sadly mistaken, buddy.
[A pause.]
Milo: Wormhorn?

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Whatever.

Wormhorn: Bye.
[Milo and Lola are dropped back into reality.]
Lola: Christ, let's get to Welkin Way before any more of Wormhorn's shit happens.

Invitation Mission Texts #1[]

[As they walk back to the boat, either Milo or Lola will receive a text.]

[Lola receives a text from either Blackhouse or the chanters.]

(Played with Blackhouse)
(Played with the Chanters)
(Played with Blackhouse)

Blackhouse: [text] Yo yo yo, just wanted to let you know that we finished our set at the Durdy Hurdy. We really appreciated the gig, Lolo! Thanks again! PEACE!
Lola: Oh God, Blackhouse is texting me. They're thanking us for the gig. They said they just went on. They called me Lolo, which... I can't tell if I like it. Which means I probably don't.
Milo: Aw, Blackhouse. Write 'em back.

(Played with the Chanters)

The Chanters: [text] Hi Lola! We three monks just wanted to let you know that we just finished our set at the Durdy Hurdy. It was a thrilling experience, truly! Thanks again!
Lola: Oh God, those chanters are texting me. They're thanking us for the gig, said they just went on.
Milo: Aw, those guys. Write 'em back.

Don't text me anymore, losers.
You're welcome! Any time!
(Say nothing.)
Don't text me anymore, losers.

(Played with Blackhouse)
(Played with the Chanters)
(Played with Blackhouse)

Lola: [text] Don't text me anymore you weirdo freaks.

(Played with the Chanters)

Lola: [text] Don't text me anymore you chained up losers.

Lola: [text] I don't even know what my data rates are.

You're welcome! Any time!

Lola: [text] You're welcome! Think about me the next time you want a manager haha

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Nothing? Man, you're cold.

(Replied)
(Replied)

Milo: I'm just curious. And I think you sometimes need a "being too cold in texts" check.

I told 'em to fuck off.
I was nice, don't worry.
(Say nothing.)
I told 'em to fuck off.

Lola: I told 'em in so many words to please fuck permanently off.
Milo: Good Gawd, Lola, they weren't that bad.
Lola: They were that bad, okay? Anyways, who cares, it's not like we'll ever see them again. Knock on... I guess there's no wood around. Oh well.

I was nice, don't worry.

Lola: I was nice, don't worry your sweet little I-still-sign-my-texts innocent boy head, Milo.
Milo: Well... good. I mean... I guess there's nothing to worry about. It's not like we're gonna run into them again, tonight, anyway.
Lola: Knock on... I guess there's no wood around. Oh well.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: Fine, I won't back-seat drive your texts.

[Milo receives a text from Eliza.]
Eliza: [text] "Hey, Milo. Just wondering if you wanna get a drink this Friday? Hope you're well! :)"
Milo: Ohhhhh shit, I just got a text from Eliza. This is amazing-- is this what it feels like to get booty-called? Cause man I can see why people work out, now.
Lola: Well, don't text her back, she's a total psycho. I can't believe you gave her your number in the first place! God.

Sure thing! When and were?
Lose my number.
Sure thing! When and were?

Milo: [text] Sounds great! You should pick the place since I'm new.
Eliza: [text] How about Inanna's Diner? It's in Tartarus, 3rd and Galla. 8:00. See you there!
Milo: [Sigh]
Lola: What are you sighing happily about? Did you forget where we are for a second, there?

I got a date!
Oh, nothing.
I got a date!

Milo: I just got a date with Eliza! Isn't that insane! We're going to some diner on Friday.
Lola: Milo... we are trying to get out of Hell. If everything works out, you aren't gonna be here, Friday!
Milo: Yeah, it's just-- it's just a just-in-case. Ugh.

Oh, nothing.

Milo: Oh. Nothing.

Lose my number.

Milo: [text] UNSUBSCRIBE.

[Milo receives a text from Fela.]
Fela: [text] Milooooo! Hos it goin? Sory for earlier. I was jus mad about m job. :( Nothing personal. Haha. Come back and welll hang!"
Milo: Ugh, it's Fela. He seems wasted, God. He's just saying he's sorry for earlier. Should I write him back?
Lola: Uh, if you want?

Don't worry about it.
UNSUBSCRIBE.
Don't worry about it.

Milo: [text] Don't worry about it, man. I'm just sorry about your job. When we get back there, we'll hang out.
Fela: [text] :)

UNSUBSCRIBE.

Milo: [text] UNSUBSCRIBE.
Fela: [text] :(

[Milo and Lola must board Sam's taxi.]

Drive from Asmodeus' Quest[]

Sam: Okay, bantlings... you got your-- your-- your passport stamped and everything, so... looks like you're good to go. Satan'll be, uh, happy to see you did it, probably.
Lola: Uh, will he be? 'Cause I kinda got the feeling that he didn't really want to do it...
Sam: No, are you-- seriously? No-- using the loophole to let people out makes him feel like he's Harriet fuckin' Tubman. He'll be thrilled to give you guys more than a participation trophy, trust me.
[Skip to "The Split."]

Sam: Apollyon and Morningstar... they go way back. I mean-- they all go way back, him and the Monarchs-- the Seraphim, but... You know, when God was still scheming geometry, they were all just kids-- They'd be making dolls out of baryonic matter, fighting with 'em-- it was a real brother-sister thing, you know? After the Fall, and the first guy died, she... she still believed in the rulebook. Ya know? For a time, anyway. So Lucifer let her be the Judge of the Dead... deciding who would go where... and what punishment they'd receive. Uh, she's one of the more respected angels in Hell, probably. Not that that would matter to her.

Who was the first guy?
Is that still her job?
Who was the first guy?

Lola: Who was the first guy? Was it-- Adam? Was it Adam?
Milo: Was it Adam?
Sam: Ugh-- everybody always asks, "Have you met Adam? Is he nice or a dick? Does he have Jesus abs?" The asshole didn't even have a name, guys, he was barely bi-pedal for Christ's sake-- he would poop in his hands and throw it at monkeys. Which, I mean, is funny, don't get me wrong, but still.
Milo: Oh. That's, uh, disappointing.
Sam: Anyways--

Is that still her job?

Lola: Does Apollyon still-- is that still her job? The Judge of the Damned?
Sam: "Dead."
Lola: "Dead?"
Sam: Uh, no, she-- she retired. Sort of.

Sam: After her side-judge, Yama, turned himself into a dog and moved to Mexico... Polly kind of lost her spirit for being a cosmic umpire. She teaches empyrean law at Nastrond now. Sometimes she'll do a little pro bono, uh, lawyering, but--
Milo: Wait. Lawyering? Does that mean we can get like a-- like a retrial or something?
Sam: No! No no no, not-- not for people like you who obviously belong here-- But sometimes, yeah, for fringe cases, we'll have public trials in the square.
[Go back to "Apollyon's Quest."]

The Split[]

Arrival[]

[Sam pulls up at Welkin Way.]

Sam: Have fun, kids. I only got another mileway left on my-- on my shift, tonight... So if you wrap up fast, it was nice knowin' ya. Not that anyone can ever really know anyone... You know?

Milo: Nice knowing you, too, Sam! Your driving has been both a requirement but also informative and pleasant. I only almost fell out like six or seven times.
Sam: Yeah, I keep trying to get rid of those seat belts but it's like super glued in or something.

Milo: Hey, if you're getting off soon, would you, uh, wanna-- maybe wanna get a drink after?
Sam: Yeah sure. I don't know where I'll be but just, uh, send a carrier demon or something.
Lola: Can't we just text you--
Sam: Send the demon, it'll get there slower.

Sam: But I guess that's it. And if Morningstar asks, uh, I wasn't your cabbie all night.

Lola: Huh? Why would he care--

Sam: Bye!

[Sam drives off.]

Lola: Well that's weird.

Invitation Mission Texts #2[]

[Milo receives a text from Eliza.]
Eliza: [text] Hey you. Just thinking about what I should wear. :)
Milo: Oh man, I just got another text from Eliza. She's referencing her clothes on our date.
Lola: That cannot happen--
Milo: I think she's talking about her underwear. I'm in too deep. What should I write back?
Lola: Nothing. Just leave it alone, now. I'm serious, Milo. Don't think I can't see your hands...

We can't go out.
I'M THINKING ABOUT YOUR CLOTHES TOO!
(Say nothing.)
We can't go out.

Lola: Milo!
Milo: [text] Sorry, Eliza, but we actually can't go out. I'm leaving Hell as soon as possible. Sorry.
Eliza: [text] That's too bad. I hope to see you again, eventually. Take care. :("
Milo: This sucks.

I'M THINKING ABOUT YOUR CLOTHES TOO!

Lola: Milo!
Milo: [text] I'm thinking about what you should wear, too. :)
Milo: [text] But not in a creepy way.
Milo: [text] In a fun, sexy way.
Eliza: [text] Ha I know :)
Milo: [Sigh]
Lola: Stop it!

(Say nothing.)

Lola: Thank you.

Fela: [text] "Sum anciet Egypt God is doin SHOTS with Lukes Horn Sharpener, Azazel! It's nutso hahaha your my friend this is fun"
Milo: [text] Fela's texting again. He's, uh, happy we're friends, I guess.
Lola: Uh, great.

Cool!
And?
Cool!

Milo: [text] Cool! Take pictures haha
Fela: [text] My fone doent have a camera lol

And?

Milo: [text] And? We're kinda busy, Fela.
Fela: [text] Well alright sorry

[Milo receives a text from Fela.]
Fela: [text] Milooooo! Hos it goin? Sory for earlier. I was jus mad about m job. :( Nothing personal. Haha. Come back and welll hang!"
Milo: Ugh, it's Fela. He seems wasted, God. He's just saying he's sorry for earlier. Should I write him back?
Lola: Uh, if you want?

Don't worry about it.
UNSUBSCRIBE.
Don't worry about it.

Milo: [text] Don't worry about it, man. I'm just sorry about your job. When we get back there, we'll hang out.
Fela: [text] :)

UNSUBSCRIBE.

Milo: [text] UNSUBSCRIBE.
Fela: [text] :(

Lynda: [text] Heyyy i'm sorry if i wus a synnm for a lady dog earlier. Just hated seeing theband al happy. Pisse dme off. Anyays hope your drinkin on me hahah lol xoxo
Lola: Lynda's texting me. God, she's really drunk. Or she's just really bad at this.
Milo: What's she say?
Lola: "Sorry if I was a... synonym for a lady dog, earlier." Aw. She just says the band's happiness made her unhappy, basically.
Milo: Aw, tell her to cheer up.

Cheer up, Lynda!
You WERE a lady dog, earlier.
(Say nothing.)
Cheer up, Lynda!

Lola: [text] C'mon Lynda cheer up! If they're mean to you, then they're losers, and you're great, remember that. :)

You WERE a lady dog, earlier.

Lola: [text] Yeah you WERE a SYNONYM for a lady dog, earlier, Lynda. We got the invite, you got your freedom for the night, we're even, the end.

(Say nothing.)

Milo: You're really not gonna write her back? Man. Glad I got to know you before I could get ignored in even more ways.

The Party[]

[Milo and Lola will arrive at Satan's house.]

Lola: So I suppose this is--

Milo: So I guess this is-- You go first--

Lola: I was just gonna say this is the, uh, the end of the line, I guess. And, uh, I dunno... I feel like I should say, "I'm sorry," for some reason? I don't necessarily know why, but... I just feel sorry for what, uh-- or how things have gone.

Milo: Yeah... I kinda weirdly feel the same way? So... uh, sorry. If I've been... weird or anything.
Lola: It's fine.

Milo: Why do you feel like saying sorry? You didn't do anything, like, wrong--
Lola: No, I know...

Lola: I don't know, whatever, let's just, uh, let's just get home.

[Milo and Lola must enter the house; after they go inside, Milo steps into a small replica of the college graduation mixer room from the start of the game.]

Milo: I... wait... what? Lola?

[The screen splits in two, and Lola walks into an identical room.]

Lola: Hey, where'd-- shit, Milo? How'd I lose you? Milo? Are you-- are you here?

Milo: Lola, I'm-- I'm over, uh, 'here!' I don't know how to-- shit, how to describe it. Can you-- can you hear me?

Milo: Lola, shit, I think-- we're like in the same room, but I can't-- I can't see you. Can you-- can you hear me?

Lola: Milo! Can you fucking hear me or not!

Milo: Lola? I can't-- I can't see you!

Lola: I can-- I think I can hear you? Shit, how'd we get split up?

Lola: Damn it, how-- how do I get over there? Can you come over here? Where the Hell is here! Shit, how'd we get split up?

[A person named Jimmy walks up to Milo, while a person named Suzie walks up to Lola.]

Drunk Jimmy: Hey, aren't you-- aren't you always with that friend of yours?

Drunk Suzie: Lola! Where's-- where's your fuckin' twin, Milo?

Milo: What?

Lola: What?

[Wormhorn, wearing a mask of Lola's face, appears inf ront of Milo.]

Wormhorn Lola: Okay, Milo, we came, we saw, let's-- let's get the fuck out of here before I get some disease.

Lola: Who is that?

Wormhorn Lola: I hate these things, c'mon, these people they're just-- Just these sloppy hangers-on that'll fuck into existence another generation of overweened termites craving bullshit to ignore their grandmother dying in hospice. Well there's no escaping that fate, assholes! No matter how many pop songs you can fucking quote!

Lola: Oh give me a break, I do not sound like that--

Wormhorn Lola: It's not like any of this means anything, anyways. It's all an illusion built on a garbage stow.

Milo: Okay, Lola is many things--cynical, maybe, depressed, probably, deeply misanthropic, ehh--
Lola: I'm not misanthropic!
Milo: But she is not this bad!

Milo: Alright, just, fuck off, Wormhorn, I thought we were done with this stuff!

[Wormhorn, wearing a mask of Milo's face, walks up to Lola.]

Wormhorn Milo: Fuck yeah, let's rock this bitch! Finally, I've been--I've been really waiting all year for this-- I can spread my party wings and really--really assimilate into good ol' boy, middle-class, mid-cult die of heart disease avarice and stupidity! And don't take it to mean that your friendship, Lola, was never enough for me... Understand that it was never even close to being enough! I wanted the unwashed masses to love me--

Milo: Oh shut up!

Wormhorn Milo: --cause I am undoubtedly one of them.

Lola: Yeah, Milo doesn't sound like that, asswipe, okay? He's a giant nerd that's as much of a skeptic as--
Milo: I'm not a--a giant nerd, okay--
Lola: I'm--it's a compliment, Jesus!

Lola: Yeah, no, this isn't going to work, Wormhorn. We know each other too well to fall for this shit.

Drunk Jimmy: [sigh] Hey, Lola, how's it, uh, how's it--how's it going?

Wormhorn Lola: Well, there are children sex slaves out there in the world and you're all taking Jello shots. Does that answer your question?

Heather: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Gary: Did you hear your, uh, friend, Milo got pranked by Kappa Theta. They somehow forwarded his phone calls to their directory--

Heather: --the only one who ever calls him is Mom.

Lola: Oh, uh, Milo...

Wormhorn Lola: [sigh] God, yeah. That guy is such a fucking... walnut--

Drunk Jimmy: [laughing] A walnut! Why is that so funny!

Heather: [laughing] A walnut! He is!

Gary: [laughing]

Drunk Jimmy: [laughing]

Milo: Wait, Lola... you called me that, first? You know those guys filled my mailbox with walnuts for like a month after, right?!
Lola: Yeah, I know, you told me all about it!

Milo: What?! What does that even mean! A--a walnut?! You know those guys filled my mailbox with walnuts for like a month after, right?!
Lola: Yeah, I know, you told me all about it!

Lola: Okay, yes, I called you a--a "walnut," and yes I know they filled your mailbox with walnuts for the next six weeks--

Lola: I just--it just came out, I didn't think they'd--it wasn't meant to be a big deal!

Drunk Suzie: Hey Milo! Where's, uh, where's Lola?

Wormhorn Milo: Oh, she's getting her stuff out of the car, I think.

Ryan: Wasn't she supposed to go to some, uh, some veteran's hospital thing tonight, or something?

Kelsey: She had to-- to apply for it, I think. You couldn't just volunteer cause it gave school credit. It was like a job.

Wormhorn Milo: Yeah, she got in, but I, uh, accidentally threw away her acceptance letter.

Milo: Okay, now-- there is more to this than--

Kelsey: Ew, seriously?

Wormhorn Milo: I know! Isn't it hilarious!

Lola: Milo, the fuck! I wanted to go to that, it was important to me!
Milo: I'm sorry, I-- I was--I was really--that was the weekend Brad told me he didn't wanna be seen with me, okay? I was feeling really fucking down and you didn't seem to care and I just wanted you around that Saturday! JUMP TO- Part Two Start

Lola: Okay, it's--I don't care if that actually happened, I mean--I--I do care, but-- But I can see it's just Wormhorn trying to fuck with us, so. But Goddamnit Milo are you kidding me with that?!
Milo: I know! I know, it's--I can't say I'm sorry enough, but--but-- I was feeling really fucking down and you didn't seem to care and I just wanted you around that Saturday!

Milo: I'm really--I'm really sorry about that Lola, okay, I-- I was just feeling super down and just--I just wanted you around that Saturday, and--

Wormhorn Lola: Hey, guys, don't tell anyone... But I think I'm gonna ditch Walnut at whatever the opposite of the pearly gates are.

Drunk Jimmy: Oh shit, really?

Wormhorn Lola: Yeah, the--the guy just isn't gonna be able to pull his weight in the drinking contest... And I'm afraid he'll weigh me down.

Lola: I am not thinking that!

Heather: Oh man, that's rough, honey.

Milo: Wait, you're not-- you're not really planning to do that, are--
Lola: No, Milo! Of course not! Why-- are you-- are you-- why would I ever do that?!
Wormhorn Lola: Yeah, and why would I call you a fucking walnut to a group of people I actively and loudly despise?

Milo: Give me a break, Wormhorn, that is--that's complete bullshit and you know it!
Lola: Yeah, like I would ever betray Milo like that!
Wormhorn Lola: Yeah, I would never call you a fucking walnut to a group of people I actively and loudly despise, would I?!

Lola: I would never do that, Milo, c'mon, that's--that's insane--
Wormhorn Lola: Yeah, I would never call you a fucking walnut to a group of people I actively and loudly despise, would I?!

Wormhorn Lola: Unless of course I just really don't like you much, either.

Milo: Just shut up, okay, just-- just shut the Hell up--

Lola: Milo, I--

Milo: No, you--that was--that was mean what you did, calling me shit behind my back--

Lola: Me?! Mean?!

[Both Wormhorns disappear as Milo and Lola begin arguing at the wall between them.]

Lola: You purposefully didn't tell me I could get school credit one Saturday! You held me friend hostage!

Milo: Maybe I did it because I was depressed! But no, you would never notice something like that!

Lola: Oh gimme--are you serious right now?!

The Winner[]

[Milo and Lola are transported back into the entrance room of Satan's house, where Wormhorn stands at the head of a crowd of partygoers.]

Wormhorn: I'm afraid he's quite serious, Lola, but before we get into your ultimate dissolution... Let's see who won! Ooooh the suspense is killing me!

Lola: What are you even talking about? What--what is this?

Lola: Won what? What--what is this?

Milo: What-- what are you talking about. Won what-- we-- we haven't even played, yet.

[Depending on which character the player generally made choices in favor throughout the game, either Milo or Lola will be declared the winner.]

Wormhorn: The winner is Milo! Whoo! Yeah! Milo, you're awesome! Yes, but Wormhorn--what does this mean, what does he win?

Wormhorn: The winner is Lola! Whoo! Yeah! Lola, you're awesome! Yes, but Wormhorn--what does this mean, what does she win?

Wormhorn: Well that's the seventy two trillion cell question, isn't it, kids, that's the-- Toba catastrophe--I piss when I hear the sounds of lawn mowers question, isn't it! You... won... your point of view, you won your point of view, that's what you won.

Lola: What? What the Hell does that mean? He won his point of view?

Huh?
Don't listen to it.
(Say nothing.)
Huh?

Milo: Huh? What are you--
Wormhorn: "Huh? What are you--" That's it, that's what I'm talking about, you can say, 'Huh?'

Don't listen to it.

Milo: Don't listen to it, Lola, okay, just--
Wormhorn: "Don't listen to it, Lola--" That's it, that's what I'm talking about, you can say, "Don't listen to it."

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: See? That's what I'm talking about. You can just say nothing if you want to.

Milo: Wh-- what? What the--what the Hell does that mean? She won her point of view?

What?
It's making up shit.
(Say nothing.)
What?

Lola: What? What are you even--
Wormhorn: "What? What are you even--" That's it, that's what I'm talking about, you can say, "What?"

It's making up shit.

Lola: It's just making up shit, Milo.
Wormhorn: "It's just making up shit--" That's it, that's what I'm talking about, you can say, "It's making up shit."

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: See? That's what I'm talking about. You can just say nothing if you want to.

Wormhorn: Whereas Lola can only do what God tells her to do.
Lola: I don't understand.

Wormhorn: Whereas Milo can only do what God tells him to do.
Milo: ...I don't understand.

Wormhorn: You have autonomy of purpose. I mean, it's obvious.

Wormhorn: You went after Landon's invitation, which was Milo's plan--

Wormhorn: You did Lola's plan of going after Fela--

Wormhorn: Milo talked to Satan, not Lola--

(TBC)

Wormhorn: You went after Eliza, Milo's suspect--

(TBC)

Wormhorn: Milo got Eliza's number, despite knowing it would piss off Lola--

(TBC)

(Got Asmodeus with Beth and Lola won)

Wormhorn: You got Asmodeus back with Beth, which was Lola's idea--

Wormhorn: You even took a dive with Roberto cause Milo was afraid of angering Polly--

Wormhorn: Lola got Roberto off, despite what Polly wanted--

Lola: That's--that's not--that doesn't mean anything, that... this is so stupid-- I--I just don't--I... Fuck, why can't I say what I want to say right now!

Milo: This is--this is fucking stupid, this is dumb, okay. I--I don't... I... I... I just... It's just not true, n--none of it.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Lola, c'mon, we're in this together still, okay? We're getting out, alright, remember that.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: C'mon, Milo, we're in this together, don't listen to this thing! We're getting out, okay, remember that.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Wormhorn's a idiot, Lola, don't listen to this--this--this thing! We're getting out, alright, remember that.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Wormhorn's a goddamn idiot, Milo, don't listen to this thing! We're getting out, okay, remember that.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Lola: It--it doesn't-- we're still getting out, we're--we're still getting out, we can still--

(Favored Lola)

Milo: We're still-- we're still getting out, we can still--

Crowd: [laughing]

Lola: Fuck off!

Milo: Shut up!

Party Demon: [laughing] Getting out? You think that's ever gonna happen?

Party Human: [laughing] No one's outdrank Satan, like, ever--what the fuck are you talking about?

Crowd: [Laughter]

Lola: God, you know what--screw them and screw you, too, Milo-- this is my last damn night free in undeath and I'm gonna spend this shit alone. Away fromyou and all of this shit.

Lola, I'm sorry!
I need you, c'mon!
Lola, I'm sorry!

Milo: Lola, wait, I'm sorry!

I need you, c'mon!

Milo: Lola, wait, c'mon, I--I need you, man!

Milo: God, you know what--fuck them and fuck you, too, Lola-- this is my last damn night out and I'm gonna spend it alone. Away from you and all of this shit.

Milo, I'm sorry!
I need you, c'mon!
Milo, I'm sorry!

Lola: Milo, wait, I'm sorry!

I need you, c'mon!

Lola: Milo, wait, c'mon, I--I need you, man!

Goodbye Wormhorn[]

Wormhorn: Jesus Fucking Christ finally! Finally! I have been... trying SO fucking hard to get under your guys's skin, this just-- It's a good--it's a good feeling, that's all. Wooooooo!

[Wormhorn spirals into the sky, then reappears after a few moments.]

Wormhorn: Man, that feels great, I--I really--

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Oh fuck you, Wormhorn! Why are you so damn mean all the time, why-- Why can't you just get the shit out of our heads, okay?
[If Wormhorn spiraled into the sky and has not returned, she reappears.]
Wormhorn: Because Satan came first. And then the rest of the angels, and then the demons-- and then God planted you like seeds. And said you were His favorite. And you are, you're his favorite fucking show. And without me, it'd be a boring one.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Oh fuck you, Wormhorn! Like I give a shit what you think of us, of--of what we mean to each other.
[If Wormhorn spiraled into the sky and has not returned, she reappears.]
Wormhorn: Oh, it doesn't matter to me. It just matters to God... what He thinks of you. His favorite. And you are, you are His favorite show. But without me it'd be a boring one.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Hey, you know what, this isn't fucking over, prick, not by a long shot.
[If Wormhorn spiraled into the sky and has not returned, she reappears.]
Wormhorn: No, of course not, of course it's not done. You're the hero. And you're always gonna be the hero, till the fuckin' day you die, cause... That's God's greatest gift to you. You don't live past your death... and see just how little you really mattered to the world.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Hey, you know what, this isn't over, prick, okay, not by a fucking long shot.
[If Wormhorn spiraled into the sky and has not returned, she reappears.]
Wormhorn: No, of course not, of course it's not done. You're the hero. And you're always gonna be the hero, till the fuckin' day you die, cause... That's God's greatest gift to you. You don't live past your death... ...and see just how little you really mattered to the world.

[Satan teleports in before them.]

Satan: Sister Mary Wormhorn, you know, I don't... recall inviting you to the jungle gym.

Wormhorn: Sss--Sa--Satan. It's a... great honor...

Satan: I imagine it would be... for a creature such as yourself. You know, my Father prided me on my... confidence. He used to say, "Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have believed," which means... Doubt is for... lesser beings. Personal Demons are lesser beings. They make us lesser... so they are lesser. And this... this is the time for confidence. For faith in things unseen but felt. It's also about time for you to die... isn't it, Mary?

Milo/Lola: Wait, what?
Satan: Personal Demons expire in the rays of a new day.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Wait, demons can--can die?

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Wait, demons can-- they can die?

Satan: Demons can't--real demons, anyway. But Personal Demons expire in the rays of a new day.

Satan: Your traumas are your own, but how they express themselves gets refreshed every twenty four cycle. Think of it as trimming the flowers so new ones can grow. Okay, now everyone say, "Good-bye Wormhorn!"

Crowd: Goodbye Wormhorn!

Satan: I would spend your last hour wisely.

Wormhorn: Yes, hail Satan.

[Satan snaps, and Wormhorn is teleported away.]

Satan: [huffs] Well... I am certainly apologetic about that. I'm sure you're anxious to get started on the drinking challenge, I... see your parchment's all signed. I must say, I didn't think you would make it at first. But you've been most impressive, really.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Wait, uh, Mr.-- Mr. Lucifer, I really... I can't do this without Lola.

(Favored Lola)

Milo: Wait, uh, Mr.-- Mr. Lucifer, I really... I can't do this without Lola.

Satan: Oh I can understand that--though I would... perhaps, at least, question a person's loyalty, you know... Someone who would leave you alone on the breach, but... I'd think about it--I wouldn't want to--want to sway you... So... let's just head up to the parlor and you can think it over.

Milo/Lola: Yeah, yeah... I, uh, I am.

Satan: I know what you're--what you're thinking, Milo, that you don't know whether... to--to wait for your friend or reluctantly go it alone, but... just know that it...

Satan: It was wonderful following you along on--on Bicker, watching you as you got those Seals... It was very, um... you know, it was very-- it was entertaining, it really was, I don't know what else to call it. I hope you didn't think it was busy work or anything. I hope you-- I hope you enjoyed yourself, I really do.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Um... thank you.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Uh, yeah... thanks.

Satan: Oh, you're very welcome.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: I'm really just glad it's, uh, that it's over.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: I'm just, uh... really glad that it's over.

Satan: [chuckling] Well... best keep your dismissive attitude to yourself lest you offend the dear architects of this experience... wherever they may be.

Satan: Oh, it's difficult, it is, to choose between two disparate yet thoughtful expressions, I know.

Satan: But this, uh, this'll be fun, I think, I--I think you'll have fun.

[They will arrive by Satan's fireplace, where Satan's friends are waiting.]

Chernabog: Wait, don't tell me we're out of Gizzard Gin?

Satan: No. Chernabog, I'm here with Milo. He's doing the challenge, he made it.

Satan: No. Chernabog, I'm here with Lola. She's doing the challenge, she made it.

Chernabog: ...really.

Satan: Yes. Really.

Satan: Now then, Milo, where is your team?

Satan: Now then, Lola, where is your team?

Milo/Lola: Uh... what team?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Satan: What team--what team, he asks, the team-- your team for the drink off with me.

(Favored Lola)

Satan: What team--what team, she asks, the team--your team for the drink off with me.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Uh... I don't have a team, man. You didn't say anything about a team before.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Uh... I don't have a team, guy. You didn't say anything about anything about a- a team.

Satan: Well, I'm quite certain that I did, but even if I didn't... A tennis player's to know the rules before heading to court, I suspect.

Satan: Okay, I can--I can tell... you don't... have a team. And you don't--you don't even understand the concept, okay.

Satan: You see, these are my friends...

Vetala: Hi ya.

Satan: And now you need to acquire yours. It's a team competition, as all good drinking games are. Now, Morrigan's six months sober, so you only need three, not including yourself. Which shouldn't be too hard...

Satan: ...especially for an industrious man like yourself.

Satan: ...especially for an industrious young woman like yourself.

Milo:/Lola This is complete bullshit, man, and you know it. C'mon, this--this isn't fair!
Satan: You know, the longest anyone's been on the Moon... is thirty three hours straight. The Moon is a... small, planetoid rock split off Theia. You've been living in Hell, a place beyond any terrestrial comprehension, for almost a full day.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Satan: You don't know what fair is anymore, Milo.

(Favored Lola)

Satan: You don't know what fair is anymore, Lola.

Milo/Lola: Where the crap am I supposed to just find three friends! It's not like I know anybody!
Satan: Well, you know, I'm sorry... if you've spent the entire evening out in the throng... and haven't a single number to show for it-- I'm sorry if people have presented themselves vainglorious. I'm sorry that every friendship is built on biological impulse... and a fear of being stabbed in the side. But that's the way it is. I'm just a custodian... after all.

Satan: You think me unfair... you think it's impossible to get folks to show up to your coming out party. Well, you know, I'm sorry... if you've spent the entire evening out in the throng... ..and haven't a single number to show for it-- I'm sorry if people have presented themselves vainglorious. I'm sorry that every friendship is built on biological impulse... and a fear of being stabbed in the side. But that's the way it is. I'm just a custodian... after all.

Satan: Come back when you're ready. I'll be waiting.

Chernabog: [chuckling] See ya.

[Satan and his friends teleport away. Milo or Lola exit Satan's house, where they receive texts from Sam.]

Sam: [text] Hey. Idiot. Your friend is here.

Sam: [text] Schoolyard Strangler. Upstairs. I'll keep an eye on while you get here.

Milo/Lola: [text] Thanks, Sam!
Sam: [text] Don't thank me yet.
Sam: [text] Hurry.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: [text] Well tell her to come here!

(Favored Lola)

Lola: [text] Well tell him to come here!

Sam: [text] No way, I'm not getting in the middle of this shit.
Sam: [text] You come here.
Sam: [text] Hurry.

Sam: [text] Hurry.

[After calling for a taxi, a cab arrives with a different driver.]

Malacoda: Somebody call for a ferry?

(Continue on.)

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Yeah, but, um... actually I think I'm gonna stay behind a little bit longer.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: I am, but... I have some stuff I wanna do first.

Malacoda: Okay, I'll, uh, just go over here and fuck myself.
[Malacoda drives off.]

Malacoda: Okay, I'll, uh, just go over here and fuck myself.
[Malacoda drives off.]

[Milo must eventually call them back.]

(Malacoda drove off without Milo/Lola)

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: [MILO WHISTLES]

(Favored Lola)

Lola: [LOLA WHISTLES]

[Malacoda drives up.]

Variants:
Malacoda: Wanna go somewhere now?
Malacoda: Ready?
Malacoda: Wanna head out?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Yep, let's, uh, let's go.
Milo: Uh huh. Great.
Milo: Awesome, yeah, let's head out.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Yeah, let's go.
Lola: Ready when you are.
Lola: Sure thing.

Milo: Yeah, I'm, uh, headed to the Schoolyard Strangler.

Lola: Yeah, I'm goin' to the Schoolyard Strangler.

Malacoda: Sure thing!

[Milo enters the taxi, and they drive off.]

Malacoda's Cab Drive[]

Malacoda: Ciriatto, Ciriatto, no-- shut up for a second-- let me finish the damn story! Okay, well I didn't know your wife was in the room-- why do you have it on speaker phone if-- Why would I tell you to put it on speaker ph-- he hung up. [Sighs] That guy. Sorry about that! Had to-- had to take a call. It's-- I'm done now.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: What was the, uh, what was the story?

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Well, uh, what was the story, don't leave me hangin'.

Malacoda: Oh! I just had a-- a crazy date last night with this woman he knew-- Sexually, she was just very advanced-- There was a lot of math involved. Flash cards, I didn't-- It was just a little hard to keep up. I was just talking to my buddy about it-- I hadn't seen him in a minute--

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: It's, uh, it's-- it's okay. Back on Earth... I once had a driver blasting this stand-up comedy album that was all this-- this really racist stuff. I say that just to, uh, just to say you're doing fine.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: It's fine. Uh... back on-- back on Earth... I once had this weirdo cab driver who'd covered his car in unicorn wallpaper, so... it, uh, it can always be worse.

Malacoda: Hey, thanks, I appreciate that. I was just talking to my buddy-- I hadn't seen him in a minute--

Malacoda: And it's, uh, it's not like it is on Earth, it's, uh, it's hard to maintain friends down here. There isn't that communal consciousness that binds everybody, that lets-- something like Gone With the Wind still be the biggest box office hit when adjusted for inflation. Demons are self-involved-- we don't... know what it's like to live as another person like you guys. You're not born trapped in psychological prisons shaped by your-- by your ancestral code-- and self-rewarded biases like we are. You're not afraid of each other all the time. You don't hate without reason. I sometimes wonder what that's-- What that's like.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Hey, I hate to break it to you, Malacoda, but people don't have a-- a collective braintrust or whatever-- It's hard to know what anyone else even wants for breakfast let alone their deepest fucking fears.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Yeah, uh, Malacoda, I don't mean to-- to dispel your illusions, but people don't exactly like each other, either. Any one of us would eat the other one's eyeballs for five extra minutes of screentime.

Malacoda: Oh shit, really? Oh, you know what-- I was thinking of angels. They're-- they're the ones without-- without hate. Yeah. Shit, sorry, I forgot.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Yes, yeah, okay, we-- I get it. I get it, we have it on easy street, thank you. To make friends all you have to do is get picked last in everything everyone else wanted to do-- and never ever ever move away, that's it, baddaa bing, badda boom.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Okay. I get it. Yeah. It's-- it's the easiest thing in the world, for us. To make friends all you have to do is meet the one person you can stomach talking to on the planet-- and convince them to change their entire life plan to be in a way you don't even know will be good for you.
Malacoda: Yeah, like I said, super-easy.

Malacoda: You going to Satan's thing, tonight?

Lola: Uh, you mean the party?

Malacoda: I don't mean the party. I mean... the thing.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Ooohhh, the thing, yeah, def-- definitely. I'm all about the thing.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Ooohhh, totally. Totally. The-- the thing. Uh huh.

Malacoda: Okay, cool-- cool, I didn't know you guys were that close. Just remember, don't say anything before it happens, alright? We can't let him, you know, fuckin' escape or anything.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Um. What thing? You mean the-- the drink competition?
Malacoda: Yeah, I-- I mean the drink compe-- compe-- what's that word?
Milo: Competition--
Malacoda: Compefishin', yeah, yeah...

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Malacoda: Okay,, say-- say no more. Or-- I mean, keep not saying anything, I get it.

Malacoda: Okay, we're almost to-- almost to 1st and Izzard.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Malacoda: Hey, hey, did you-- did you say anything to that stand-up comic driver guy?
Milo: Uh, no. I, uh, I'm not good with that stuff, but my friend, Lola, was there. She yelled at him so much she's the first rider in history to have a negative star rating.
Malacoda: Hey, man... what are friends for?

(Favored Lola)

Malacoda: Hey, hey, did you-- did you talk to the, uh, the unicorn wallpaper guy?
Lola: Oh, uh, no. No, I didn't have to. I was with my, uh, my friend, Milo. He started talking to him about old... comic books or something, and it, uh, it made me relax-- laugh, you know.
Malacoda: Hey, man... what are friends for?

Malacoda: Oh man-- sorry, I'm thinking about that date again. Ciriatto-- his wife's gonna be pissed. He told me he was working late, the night I met her. But I'd convinced him to come out with me to Skoll, be my wingman-- cause I'm-- I'm not really good at that stuff. But, you know... what are friends for.

Malacoda: Get you there in two gifs.

[They continue driving off, and the screen fades to black.]

Making Up (TBC)[]

[Malacoda arrives at the shore of 1st and Izzard.]

Malacoda: 1st and Izzard, here we are. A place you-- uh-- wanted to go, and now you're here. I'd be quick, though, if you're headed to the Strangler... Bars are all closin' soon, Hellrise is coming. "Work waits for no man", you know-- etc, etc.

Malacoda: Hope you uh-- hope you have a good rest of your night, son.

Malacoda: Hope you uh-- hope you have a good rest of your night, ma'am.

[Malacoda drives off. As Milo or Lola walks, they will pass two individuals heading towards the shore.]

Drunk Izzard Demon: Wanna-- let's get some-- some Belgium pancakes! Right?

Drunk Woman: No, take us home. I gotta shit a fuckin' log cabin.

[They will also pass a drunk person standing by a building.]

Drunk Wahooing Guy: Wahoooo!

[The person collapses. Milo or Lola must eventually reach the Schoolyard Strangler and enter. Inside, they can speak with Sam, who sits at the bar.]

Conversation with Sam (Optional)[]

Sam: Hey, shabbat shalom! You came quicker than I thought. I heard on talk radio that Morningstar changed the drinking contest rules... again. Hey! Father Vandyke. Another round, if you're not busy.

Yeah, Satan's a dick.
Wheres Lola?
(Say nothing.)
Yeah, Satan's a dick.

Milo: Yeah, Satan's kind of a-- kind of a not nice person... I'm starting to get the sense that he has some-- uh-- uncorked issues.
Sam: Oh you're starting to get that sense, huh? You know your friend's here?
Milo: Is she upstairs? Lola?
Sam: No, your-- your other friend.

Where's Lola?

Milo: Is Lola upstairs? I don't see her.
Sam: Upstairs is piggin for Heaven, down here.
Milo: Piggin? You mean, uh, jargon, or--
Sam: Upstairs is Heaven, downstairs is between and the Fart Pit is Hell. Yeah, Lola's up the staircase. Anyways... your other friend's here, too.
Milo: What other friend?

(Say nothing.)

Sam: You know your friend's here?

We had a bad fight.
Where's Milo?
(Say nothing.)
We had a bad fight.

Lola: Milo and I are sort of... in the process of moving through and past of-- a fight. Of sorts.
Sam: Yeah, the bad ones linger like leprosy, don't they? You know your friend's here?
Lola: Is he upstairs?
Sam: No, your-- your other friend.

Where's Milo?

(TBC)

(Say nothing.)

Sam: You know your friend's here?

[The camera pans over to Wormhorn, who stands dejected by the beer pong table.]

Sam: Mary. She's a few in but not tits up. Might be worth havin' a word with or two.

Oh, I feel bad...
That shitbird.
(Say nothing.)
Oh, I feel bad...

Milo: Ugh, I kind of feel bad. That-- that thing is really annoying, you know, but-- I'm not sure if it deserved the Halftime Show of Galactic Putdowns starring the Mainstreet Assholes.
Sam: Well, things aren't exactly as um-- moralistically uniform as you might think down here. But speakin' of, uh, doin' something different--

That shitbird.

Milo: Ugh, that asshole shitbird. Satan really lit into it, I was so-- it was like watching an 80's movie bully get shot to death by Indiana Jones.
Sam: Hey, speaking of getting shot to death--

(Say nothing.)

Sam: You know... your Personal Demon isn't the only thing holding you back, Milo.

Oh, I feel bad...
I hate that girl.
(Say nothing.)
Oh, I feel bad...

Lola: To be honest, I feel kind of bad for it. Satan sort of put it on blast.
Sam: Morningstar does have his charms. That's what makes him the Exalted. But speaking of exaltation--

I hate that girl.

(TBC)

(Say nothing.)

Sam: You know... your Personal Demon isn't the only thing holding you back, Lola.

Sam: Some people don't come here or Heaven, you know. They get-- phht-- blown out with the butterflies. Nirvana. Arty Schopenhaur'd call it extinction-- I'd call it winning by time-out. Enlightenment's not hard, just have sex to James Brown. Some people would call getting rid of Sister Mary Wormhorn Enlightenment. But the inventor of the mirror hung himself, so I guess people really hate their foibles. Not that I'd disagree, of course.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Please don't tell me you think Wormhorn is a good thing, Sam, c'mon-- I feel like I'm trying to convince Lola not to buy those sequined leggings--
Sam: Here's the-- here's the thing, okay, here's the thing, Milo.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Gimme a break, Sam. Alright, I mean, demon gotta look out for demon, okay-- But you can't possibly think Wormhorn-- things like that-- are a good thing.
Sam: Here's the-- here's the thing, okay, here's the thing, Lola.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Human beings have terrible, horrifying faults, Sam. We've started wars over chicken nugget recipes. And Wormhorn is the personification of that, it's like if self-loathing had a cartoon mascot.
Sam: Here's the thing, Milo.

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Sam: So... here's the thing, Milo. And listen carefully.

(Favored Lola)

Sam: So... here's the thing, Lola. And listen carefully.

Sam: Humans? They're born in beds. They don't deserve to be happy, too. But you get to be. Some of you... anyways-- yo father, another-- thanks. Okay. Your partner-in-crime's upstairs. I'll be here waiting for ya when you're done.

[Milo or Lola gets up, and can find Wormhorn floating by the pong table.]

Conversation with Wormhorn (Optional)[]

Hey. (Favored Milo)
Hey. (Favored Lola)
Hey. (Favored Milo)

Milo: Uh... hey.

Hey. (Favored Lola)

Lola: Um... hey.

Wormhorn: What? What?

What what?
Just saying hi!
What what?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Um, what... what?

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Um, what... what?

Wormhorn: What what?

Just saying hi!

Milo/Lola: I'm just, uh, just-- just sayin'... Hi. I guess.
Wormhorn: "Just sayin' hi?"

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Hey, I saw you ever here, and I just-- I needed to come over to tell you from me, for myself, that you've been so damn mean all night. And I'm-- I'm--- I'm not sorry about what happened back there. With the Devil.

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Wormhorn: So? So?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

So I'm just saying hi!
Sew buttons.
(Say nothing.)
So I'm just saying hi!

Milo: I'm just, uh, just-- just sayin'... Hi. I guess.
Wormhorn: "Just sayin' Hi?"

Sew buttons.

Milo: Sew buttons.
Wormhorn: Why are you here, Milo, what do you want?

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Is-- is this a staring contest?
[Skip to "Wormhorn: Look, I don't need this shit, okay? I'm--I'm doing (...)]

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Wormhorn: What do you want? Huh? What is it?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Uh, I guess I just want to be, like... you know... friends?

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Wormhorn: You can barely get the words out!

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Um. This is gonna sound weird, but I guess I just wanted to come over here and look at you--

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Um. This is-- okay it's gonna sound weird, but I guess I just-- I wanted to come over and look at you--

Wormhorn: "Look at me," like I'm a two-headed fuckin' cow in a carnival--

Wormhorn: Is-- is this a staring contest?

Wormhorn: Look, I don't need this shit, okay?

Wormhorn: I'm-- I'm doing great, Milo. Okay? I might have been born from your so-called "traumatic memories"-- but if you think I'm gonna be defined by your pathetic self-doubts about waxing your knees you got another thing coming.

Wormhorn: I'm-- I'm doing great, Lola. Okay? I might have been born from your so-called "traumatic memories"-- but if you think I'm gonna be defined by your pathetic self-doubts about having webbed toes you got another thing coming.

Wormhorn: I'm my own demon, okay? With my own plans blossomed from my own anxiety! I'm gonna move to whatever the Hell equivalent of Chicago is-- and-- and work with-- with Native Americans and--

You don't seem happy...?
Uh, okay?
You don't seem happy...?

Milo: You know, you don't-- you don't seem very happy... Like I feel like I have a pretty good grip on what "happy" looks like and this is like the soiled version.

Uh, okay?

Milo: Uh, oh-- okay.

Sure.
You're deluding yourself.
Sure.

(TBC)

You're deluding yourself.

Lola: Well, not that I care, but you're deluding yourself if you think you can be happy--

Wormhorn: I'm meeting friends, here. Okay? I'm meeting friends. Real friends. The-- the-- the Terrible Trivium, the Wordsnatcher, the Gelatinous Giant, the--

[Wormhorn tosses a pong ball, but overshoots drastically.]

Wormhorn: Ow, fuck. Shit. Just go before somebody sees me with you.

Milo/Lola: So. Wanna play?
Wormhorn: Play? Beer Pong? With you? Seriously?

Just until your friends get here./Yeah. Why not?
(Say nothing.)
Just until your friends get here./Yeah. Why not?

Just until your friends get here.
Yeah. Why not?
Just until your friends get here.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: I mean... yeah? Just-- just until your friends get here. I'm sure they're very real and very really on their way--
Wormhorn: Well they are. Quite real. But... Lola's not here.

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Yeah. Why not?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Yeah, I mean... why not? You're here, I'm here--
Wormhorn: Lola's not here.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Yeah, I mean... what's the harm?
Wormhorn: Milo's not here.

Milo/Lola: What does that matter?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Wormhorn: I'm not your friend, Milo, I'm your kid. Your spritling, your sprout-- Parents forget. You're not supposed to relate to your child, just protect it. Of course, I'm the child you're meant to neglect-- letting me wash away into the reeds of self-medication... I came from Lola's turgid self-reflections, too, Milo, and we're not gonna play catch without Mom-- Go get her and we'll see.

(Favored Lola)

Wormhorn: I'm not your friend, Lola, I'm your kid. Your spritling, your sprout-- Parents forget. You're not supposed to relate to your child, just protect it. Of course, I'm the child you're meant to neglect-- letting me wash away into the reeds of self-medication... I came from Milo's turgid self-reflections, too, Lola, and we're not gonna play catch without Dad. So go get him and we'll see.

Maybe. I'll think about it.
We don't need her/him.
Maybe. I'll think about it.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Uh, maybe. I'll, uh, think about it.

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Um, maybe. I will think about that.

We don't need her/him.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: C'mon, Wormhorn, we--
Wormhorn: We do need her. So scamper along. I'mm not cheating.

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Wormhorn: I'll just be here. If you and Lola feel like it.

(Favored Lola)

Wormhorn: I'll just be here. If you and Milo feel like it.

(Say nothing.)

Wormhorn: Okay, I see, you're just drunk. Forget it, I'm conversated out.
[The conversation ends. Milo or Lola can come back and talk to Wormhorn again before going upstairs, prompting the "Wanna play" dialogue again.]

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Hey, fine. Whatever. See ya later, I guess.

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

[The conversation ends. Milo or Lola can come back and talk to Wormhorn again before going upstairs, prompting the "Wanna play?" dialogue.]

[The conversation ends. Milo or Lola can come back and talk to Wormhorn again before going upstairs, prompting the "Wanna play?" dialogue.]

Convincing Milo/Lola[]

[Milo will find Lola upstairs standing among a crowd of bingo players.]
Emcee: You're talking crazy, kid! Players must announce bingo for themselves. No-- surrogates.
Lola: Okay but can't you like make an exception for the elderly? My friend here got bingo two numbers ago and he's clearly too... enfeebled to call it out himself. Well-- what's-- what's the harm?
Emcee: Oh, yeah, what's the harm? No big deal. It's just the integrity of Bingo we're talking about. You're right. That's not important. In fact, maybe nothing is important.
Lola: I... don't...
Emcee: I'm being sarcastic. And if you know what's good for you you'll keep your mouth shut the rest of the way. Before you fall over and sulley the evening's main event. Which is... Bingo! In case that wasn't clear--
Lola: No, no, no it's-- um-- you're being very forthright.

[Lola will find Milo upstairs standing among a crowd of bingo players.]
Emcee: For the tenth time kid, this isn't Karaoke! This is Bingo, okay, show some respect.
Milo: Alright, just-- just-- just-- lemme call out some letters. The numbers-- lemme call out the-- the letter numbers. I just want-- gimme the mic. I'm a natural-- what's the-- what's the harm?
Emcee: Oh, yeah, what's the harm? No big deal. It's just the integrity of Bingo we're talking about. You're right. That's not important. In fact, maybe nothing is important.
Milo: Huh?
Emcee: I'm being sarcastic. And if you know what's good for you you'll keep your mouth shut the rest of the way. Before you fall over and sulley the evening's main event. Which is... Bingo! In case that wasn't clear--
Milo: Crystal as-- as clear.

Emcee: Sorry, we're full up on participants. You understand. Bingo fills up quick.

Milo/Lola: Bingo?

Emcee: One of the oldest forms of gambling? Invented by Satan worshippers in the 2nd century? Unless you live in a government that blocks certain facts from being disseminated, this shouldn't be news to you.

Lola: Yeah, Emcee Demon, just ignore this drunk. He'll just get in the way of your personal and spiritual progress as a human being with needs. What are you even doing here?

Milo: Whatever, just-- just ignore her, Emcee Demon. She doesn't-- she's not-- she doesn't like to party like us. She's not a-- she's not a-- a partier.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Lola, come on, can we-- can we talk?
Lola: Is that supposed to be some sort of joke about my mute friend here? What? Just because he's elderly he doesn't deserve respect?

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Milo, okay, let's-- let's go somewhere and talk, alright?
Milo: What's there to talk about? How-- how you never listen to anything I say, or-- Or that you hate having fun. Fun-hater!

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Lola, what-- what is this, what are you doing.
Lola: What does it look like I'm doing. Playing-- playing Bingo.

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Emcee: Let's just keep the game goin' guys, okay? Take it outside--

Lola: No, give us a second. There are things you just don't say Milo. You just don't say them, not even in anger. I'm sorry I'm moving away, okay? I'm fucking sorry we died, I'm sorry everything went to shit! But that's not-- That's no excuse to never listen to me. It's no excuse to-- to-- take Wormhorn's side, of all things. It's no excuse to let me leave! We're in Hell, this isn't-- that's not cool!

Milo: No no no no no, give us-- give us a second. This person sits on her-- on her Throne of Judgement like she's Ivan the Terrible, and-- and I'm sorry, Lola, for staying in town, okay! I'm sorry I decided to put my family first! I don't know what you want from me! You ask-- you tell me to open myself up to new experiences, and-- and-- then you scold me for opening up too much-- when I'm already dead!

I'm sorry, too.
Thank you for apologizing.
I'm sorry, too..

Milo: Well, I'm sorry--
Lola: Just-- don't interrupt, let me finish.

Thank you for apologizing.

Milo: Well, thank you for--
Lola: Just-- don't interrupt, let me finish.

Lola: We need to start making new friends, and... I've got some. And my new friends, my new Bingo playing demon friends, they're--
Emcee: Wait, you think this guy's your friend? Charlie? He's just drunk.
Lola: What do you mean? He's not drunk, he just can't talk. Right? Charlie--
Charlie Demon: Turn off the TV, Mommy, I wanna go to sleep.
[Charlie collapses out of his chair.]
Crowd: [laughter]
Emcee: That's our Charlie!
Lola: You know what, fuck this, then, Jesus.
[Lola heads towards the exit, then puts up a middle finger towards the crowd before continuing.]
Milo: Lola!
Emcee: Let her go, man, she just doesn't get Bingo.

I'm sorry, too.
Thank you for apologizing.
(Say nothing.)
I'm sorry, too..

Lola: Well, I'm sorry--
Milo: Just-- don't interrupt, let me finish.

Thank you for apologizing.

Lola: Well, thank you for--
Milo: Just-- don't interrupt, let me finish.

(Say nothing.)

Emcee: Okay, boy, let's--
Milo: Just-- don't interrupt, let me finish.

[A pause.]
Milo: Now I'm finished! Barkeep! Gimme three more Runaway Cars! I've already had twelve. Impressed?
Emcee: I don't get it. Is it "impressive" to go through a dozen juice boxes on Earth?
Milo: What-- what do you mean juice boxes?
Emcee: A Runaway Car is mostly raspberry punch, kid. With a dash of spritzer.
Milo: Wait... I've been drinking non-alcoholic drinks?
Crowd: [Laughter]
Emcee: You're as sober as a Nun on Sunday.
Milo: God, you know what-- screw this! Fine. Fuck you guys.
[Milo puts up a middle finger towards the crowd, then heads to the exit.]
Lola: Milo!
Emcee: Let him go, man, he just doesn't get Bingo.

Emcee: It's about that time ladies and germs. Let's keep the Bingo goin'! Markers at the ready. Our first number is B-15. B-15. Second number is I-12. I-12. Third number is... C-15? C-15. Fourth number. B-15 again? Who the fuck-- did somebody mess with these? Fifth number. B-15, okay-- Belphegor, did you-- did you do this?

Bingo Demon: Not I.

Emcee: Mother fucker, okay. Let's just keep it-- actually-- actually let's just start over.

[Milo or Lola must follow the other downstairs, where they sits at the bar in Sam's place. If they hadn't asked Wormhorn to play with them, she will be gone.]

Milo/Lola: Wanna, have a drink?
Lola/Milo: ...Not really.

Milo/Lola: Lola... why'd you come here?
Lola/Milo: ...Uh, to tell you the truth, I don't really know.

Lola: I don't remember that much about our friendship, Milo, about our... history together. I remember certain things, but, like after a dream, it's all-- it feels like a different life. From what I can tell, I think we've been friends by circumstance. And not because we have a single damn thing in common.

Milo: I don't remember that much about our friendship, Lola, about our... history together. I remember certain things-- like a-- like a hallucination, you know? But the scary thing is... I can't for the-- almost literal life of me remember why we stayed friends in the first place. We just don't have anything in common.

Milo/Lola: Lola, c'mon, we have-- we got stuff in common.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Lola: Like what.

(Favored Lola)

Milo: Like what?

We make each other laugh!
We're, uh, nice?
We make each other laugh!

Milo/Lola: We make each other laugh, don't we? Shouldn't that be enough?
Lola/Milo: I don't know. Maybe.

We're, uh, nice?

Milo/Lola: We're, uh... nice? I think?

Milo/Lola: I mean... maybe. I guess.
Lola/Milo: Just we... were our own life rafts, I think. If we didn't need it we wouldn't use it. And you can't live your whole damn life in one. I don't mean it... mean it in a bad way...

We were more than that.
It sounds bad!
We were more than that.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Lola, weren't we-- weren't we a little more than that?

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Milo, weren't we-- weren't we a little more than that?

Lola/Milo: I don't know.

It sounds bad!

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Well it sounds fucking bad, Lola. Life rafts?
Lola: I'm saying you saved my life, Milo, it's a good thing. But a friend shouldn't have that burden...

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Well it sounds fucking bad, Milo. Life rafts?
Milo: I'm saying you saved my life, Lola, it's a good thing. But a friend shouldn't have that burden...

Lola/Milo: We're here because we-- apparently we weren't great people, but I think maybe we're here... Because we weren't great at being people. Maybe that's the same thing, but... we've been... Cutting each other in half for our entire lives. And I just don't want to do that anymore. To you or to me. So... if we get back, I'm gonna try to, uh, to do something in the world that makes me feel okay... about just being me. As scary as that sounds...

Milo/Lola: Hey, we can still be friends, though, right?
Lola/Milo: Yeah. We can still be friends.

Milo/Lola No... I understand, I do. You gotta... see what's out there, you know.

Lola: Milo... I know you're always being you with me.

Milo: Lola... I know you're always being you with me.

Lola/Milo: You never... you never try to be anything else you're not. I try to do the same for you. And... whatever else happens after tonight... If we get back, if we don't... Let's, uh... Well, you know.

Milo/Lola: Yeah, let's stick to it.

Milo/Lola: Yeah, don't worry about it.

Lola/Milo: Yeah, it's stupid to talk about.

[As they stand up, Sam walks in from behind them.]

[Milo and Lola hug.]

[Milo and Lola high-five.]

Lola/Milo: Alright. Let's outdrink that son of a bitch.

Milo/Lola: Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! Sam's... well, actually, I thought she was--

Sam: I'm right here.

Lola/Milo: How long were you standing there.

Sam: I've been in the john for the last ten minutes, so... one second. Why? You kids patch things up?

Milo/Lola: Uh, sure.

Sam: Sure sounds like a good enough for me. Let's ramble.

Beer Pong with Wormhorn (Optional)[]

Milo/Lola: Hey. Still wanna play a round?

Wormhorn: Uh, I guess if, uh, if you want to. I mean, that's lame to say... Only if you want to--

Milo/Lola: Let's do it. Seriously.
Wormhorn: Alright, uh, cool, cool. I actually-- I don't-- I don't really know how to play.
Lola/Milo: Oh, it's easy! Just toss the ratbird egg into the cup, get it in, cup leaves-- when all the cups are gone, that means you've won.
Wormhorn: You're old hat at this, now.
Lola/Milo: Oh, I, uh, I wouldn't say that.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Wormhorn: Okay, well... Milo You and me.

(Favored Lola)

Wormhorn: Okay, well... Lola? You and me.

Wormhorn: Ready? I mean-- no, I-- I wanna go first, I'm new, fuck you.
[Milo/Lola and Wormhorn head to their positions and play beer pong together.]

(Milo/Lola scores)
(Milo/Lola misses)
(Wormhorn scores)
(Wormhorn misses)
(Milo/Lola scores)

Wormhorn: Good job-- man, this is harder than it looks.
Wormhorn: Whoa, it went in!
Wormhorn: Ah nice.

(Milo/Lola misses)

Wormhorn: Oof. Nice try, though.
Wormhorn: Oh, you'll get it next time.
Wormhorn: Aw, man, I thought that was going in!

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Lola: Next one's the-- yeah, the next one, forget this awful experience.
Lola: Shake it off, Milo!
Lola: Ooo, close?

(Favored Lola)

Milo: Next one's the-- yeah, the next one, forget this awful experience.
Milo: Shake it off, Lola!
Milo: Ooo, close?

(Wormhorn scores)

Wormhorn: Nice!
Wormhorn: I'm getting, like, okay at this.
Wormhorn: Hey, look at that.
Wormhorn: [Laughing]
Lola/Milo: Hey, good shot, Wormy.

(Wormhorn misses)

Wormhorn: Shoot, I thought it was dead-on.
Wormhorn: Ugh shit!
Wormhorn: God, these cups-- whoever designed these should be castrated.
Wormhorn: It's the cups, I tell you, the cups!
Wormhorn: Dag, shit-fart, God, it's annoying when you're not winning.
Lola/Milo: Aw, Wormhorn, that was-- it was close.
Lola/Milo: Next time, Wormy.

Wormhorn: That was, uh... that was fun!
Lola/Milo: Yeah. It was.
Wormhorn: And on that awkward note, I think it's about that time, kids.
Lola/Milo: Really? That's it?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Um, actually... we're on a-- the time crunch, you know. We're kind of running late as it is.
Wormhorn: No no no, I totally-- I get it. You want out, the street lights are turning off... Time's almost up.
Lola: Yeah, I mean... under any other set of circumstances...
Wormhorn: I-- you don't have to say anything more, I-- I completely understand. I'm calling it.
Lola: Oh-- calling it for the night, or?...

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Lola: Um, I-- think we're gonna take a pass, actually. It's just the, uh-- we're so under the gun, here, to get out before we have to report back to Processing.
Wormhorn: No no no, I totally-- I get it. You want out, the street lights are turning off... Time's almost up.
Lola: Yeah, I mean... under any other set of circumstances...
Wormhorn: I-- you don't have to say anything more, I-- I completely understand. I'm calling it.
Lola: Oh-- calling it for the night, or?...

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Wormhorn: I mean-- I'm-- I'm not gonna poof out of permanence right this second-- I probably have like another half hour or something.

Wormhorn: But it's fine, it's good... that it happens this way. People change, you change-- you learn how to drive, you get married, folks die... You change and your demons should change with you. But I dunno, maybe I'm preaching to the wrong choir.
Lola/Milo: Why?
Wormhorn: You two. You're still friends. That hasn't changed. Maybe it won't ever.

We'll always be friends.
Is that a good thing?
We'll always be friends.

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Yeah. I mean, we'll always be friends. Why would that change?

(Favored Lola)

Lola: Yeah... I mean... we'll always be friends. Why would that change?

Wormhorn: Personally, I don't think it should. But I'm just Sister Mary Wormhorn. What the fuck do I know.

Is that a good thing?

(Favored Milo)
(Favored Lola)
(Favored Milo)

Milo: Yeah, I'm still not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one.

(Favored Lola)

(TBC)

Wormhorn: It's a good one.

Wormhorn: Bye, you little freaks. And don't be blaming me for your nightmares, okay? God gave you creativity. He just forgot to put in the off button. But text me if you wanna hang out!

Lola/Milo: Oh.

Where are you going to go?
See ya!
(Say nothing.)
Where are you going to go?

Milo/Lola: Where are you gonna go?
Wormhorn: Oh, I dunno. Somewhere... warm.
Lola/Milo: Well... I guess we'll see you.

See ya!

Milo/Lola: See ya around, you big weirdo.

(Say nothing.)

Lola/Milo: Well... I guess we'll see you.

Wormhorn: Ah, that's the thing... you won't. And that's fine, it's good that it happens like this. People change, you change-- you learn how to drive, you get married, folks die... You change and your demons should change with you.
Milo/Lola: I guess.
Wormhorn: Anyways, bye, you little freaks. And don't be blaming me for your nightmares, okay? I don't need that on my conscience.

[Wormhorn disappears. Milo, Lola, and Sam must head to her taxi, docked on the shore.]

Finding Friends[]

Sam: You know, lemme say, I'm happy to see you two back together again, really. The whole thing just felt off without it being the-- the-- the dual story, you know? Not that I'm one to talk. It's always been just me up here.

Lola: Thanks! You know, we're happy to--

Lola: You know, going alone for a bit wasn’t--

Milo: Well, you know, that’s really nice of you to--

Sam: Wait wait wait, Cassius, I'm sorry, I can't hear you over my fare's big mouth. Hello? I lost em-- I got this new tiny speaker for my phone, fits right in my, um... whatever I call my ear hole. What were you saying?

Milo: We were saying that all we need to do is get two more friends now for the drink off, and then, that's--that's it-- We are running the damn gauntlet and Count of Monte Cristo-ing the fuck out of here.

Sam: Hey, can you guys do me a favor?

Lola: Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’ll never say Count of Monte Cristo-ing again.

Sam: Okay, two favors-- I got to take care of something in Odds Bodikins.

Milo: What? Why?

Sam: Somebody there did me a favor, and they uh-- they need somethin' done for 'em, and... that's all I can really say. I know the hourglass is runnin' out on you guys, but... this thing's kinda time-sensitive, too.

Milo: Hey, if we miss the window...

Sam: Won't take a Jersey minute.

Lola: Uh, yeah, sure. Let's, uh-- we can stop by, yeah.
Sam: Great! Thanks, won't take longer than it takes to, you know, do anything else.
Milo: That seems, um, broad.
[Continue to "Odds Bodikins (optional)".]

Lola: Sam, I'm sorry, but we really need to get to Satan's before the day rolls over.
Sam: Okay. Got it. It's fine. Sorry I asked.
Lola: Sam, don't be like that. Look, we need to assemble a team of badass drinkers in like one minute--
[Skip to "Finding Friends (con't)".]

Sam: Okay-- I-- I've-- it's uncomfortable now, just... you know what, nevermind, forget it.
Lola: Sam, don't be like that. Look, we need to assemble a team of badass drinkers in like one minute--
[Skip to "Finding Friends (con't)".]

Odds Bodikins (optional)[]

Sam: Alright, thanks for, uh, thanks for doin' this. I'll be quick, I promise--

Sam: Do you want us to... should we stay behind--?

Sam: No no no no no, c'mon. We'll all saunter.

[They begin walking across Odds Bodikins.]

Sam: You kids went to college, right?

Lola: Uh huh.

Sam: Liberal, state, military, nursing, technical? Vocational?

Lola: It was just a university--

Sam: Did they teach you about the Peace of Westphalia?

Lola: Uh, I think so--

Sam: It was the end of an eleven thousand day war between inbred royalty and the ghosts of Martin Luther. But anyways they made treaties establishing basically a new world order of independent nations. I remember Satan watching it like it was the Super Bowl. Only if his rival team won. You've never seen a guy so pissed. The, uh-- all the Monarchs bet on it. I think Polly won, though I kinda forget what was at stake. Probably dinner out. Right? That's what you normally do.

Milo: What about it made Satan so angry?
Milo: Uh, he just doesn't like compromise. Thinks it's a sin, thinks it's, uh-- what does he say? He says, "Both sides just end up fucked." You know, that's not, uh, not as poetic as I remembered it being...

Milo: Huh, has-- has Satan, um, ever directly, like, influenced historical events? I mean, other than the Cheetos Lip Balm-- he had to-- to have something to do with--
Sam: No, it's--it's tough for him to ever make that big of a dent... It'd be like climbing to the top of the Empire State Building and shining a forty watt flashlight... hopin' someone in Bed-Stuy will see it. The logistics are too hard and the weather's gotta be like perfect.

Sam: Okay, we're almost there, it won't be more than a minute-- you can hold me to that, really.

[Milo, Lola, and Sam must arrive at a table surrounded by chairs and two arched, broken trees on either side.]

Sam: Okay. Here's where I'm meeting 'em. Let's, uh, let's grab a seat. Admire the scenery. Such as it is.

Milo: Uh, okay, wait, this is starting to feel... weird.
Lola: Yeah. Like when I once met a guy to buy a bicycle and left with two tires and a wallet chain.
Sam: But you... bought the chain and tires.
Lola: Guy seemed like he needed a win-- but, seriously, what's going on?

Milo: Um, who are we meeting, exactly?
Lola: I'd appreciate the spoiler so I know if we should just cut bait and leave.
Sam: We are meeting some friends of mine.
Lola: What friends? What's going on?

Lola: Um, okay, what's-- what's going on? I'd appreciate the spoiler so I know if we should just cut bait and leave.
Milo: We are meeting some friends of mine.
Lola: What friends? What's going on?

Sam: Nothing is "going on," Lola, we're just gonna... We are going to sit here, in our non-doing of any evil, and cleanse our minds while we wait for the moment to reveal itself. So, c'mon, take a seat, it'll be fast.

[If they wait around before sitting down:]

Sam: Really? Unless you want to-- no, no, actually, standing's not an option, it'll just make me nervous. Will you sit down, for Heaven's sake? It's cool, man-- hey, I can wait all night.

[Lola and Milo must eventually take a seat at the table.]

Lola: Okay... Ugh, this seat's a little wet.

Sam: So! What should we, uh... talk about? While we wait. Any ideas? Bearing in brain I don't have any board games.

Lola: Okay, girl to girl, just what the Hell have you been hiding-- Having whisper-sounding conversations about all night?
Milo: And Polly, too-- they've both up to something--
Lola: Polly was strongly alluding to some scheme for Satan that was going around like it was fuckin' flu season.
Sam: It's one of those things that are-- It'll be interesting to experience-- I think-- and maybe hopefully helpful but really just so boring to explain. It's like a Gus Van Sant movie.

Milo: Seriously, now, why are we here, who are we meeting?
Sam: What, you don't wanna play twenty questions? Or are you-- is this how you're playing it? Did you forget the rules?

Sam: Not that that's a... bad thing.
Milo: Sam... c'mon.

Milo: Who are we meeting? Really.

Sam: You. I'm meeting you.

Milo: What do you mean?

Sam: Look, I've got a, uh--I've got a confession to make, it's... it's about a secret of mine... It's a secret that I keep... very close to my chest, you know, something that's been buried for... eons-- Something that no living soul can--

[A demon passes by the table.]

Odds Demon: Oh. Hi, Sam! If you see your asshole brother, Satan, tell him to stop tyin' his fuckin' trousers to my mailbox, alright? [barks like a dog]

Sam: [sigh] Thanks, Tannin! It's good-- it's great seeing you.

Lola: Hold the rotary phone-- you're Satan's sister?
Milo: You're like all the other Monarchs?
Sam: I'm not like the other Monarchs, I am a Monarch. Or was. I mean, I guess I still am.

Lola: Shut the front door-- you've been a damn Monarch this entire time?!

Milo: Wait. Is that guy drunk? Are you really Satan's sister? That would mean... wait, I'm doing math in my head--
S:am It would mean I'm a Monarch? Yeah.

Sam: I was born in a socket of time, between strings and waves... to the animal we call God. I mean-- I don't even remember how the fight started, to be perfectly honest. I just-- I remember that I didn't rebel with the rest of them. And I couldn't fight my brothers and sisters for the side of sunshine, either, so I-- I just didn't take a stand. I was too scared, and... I just wanted everyone to start eating dinner together again, you know? So when it came time to hand out the punishments, dear old Dad didn't spare what he called my "ambivalence." My uncertainty in His order... So I was cast out with the others. That was, um... well, that was a long time ago. So now you know.

Lola: Eh, I mean, I kinda see his point. Wasn't Satan going for the, uh, the Holy Crown? It's not like he was just trying to pull a higher allowance...
Sam: I wanted things to work out. I wanted them to work out. I just-- you know-- it just... didn't happen.

Lola: Man, that is so unfair. Once, I didn't tell on my sister, Dinah, breaking my grandfather's remote control-- Christ, when they found out, you would have thought I was harboring Nazis in the basement.

Milo: Wow.

Sam: That church sinking into the swamp? I built that, first month-- just after the Fall. I, uh, I wanted a place where... souls could still intone with God. If they wanted to, you know? Whether or not He was even listening, but Satan didn't really, uh-- he breathed it as an insult. So three days in, he tore it down and, uh, conscripted me into being a psychopomp. I think for him it was, um, romantic, or... metrical or something-- the image of me, driving back and forth, to and fro, never docking, never settling in one spot. Never choosing a home. But, uh... That's just my theory.

Lola: What keeps you from doing something else? How can he force you into being a-- a Hell cabbie?

Lola: What an asshole. Really, who does that? And for how long? I mean, this is like your brother grounding you till the heat death of the universe.

Milo: God. So you have to do this, like... forever?

Sam: It's--it's fine. I think it, uh... I think it's what I was meant to be doing all along, anyway. I wasn't a good angel. And I wasn't a particularly great demon, either. But I'm, uh, passing at this. I think.

Milo: So... why are you telling us this-- actually, what did you mean by helping us out?

Sam: I know you're coming up to your danger zone, time-wise. I can wrap it up while we walk.

[They must begin walking back to the cab.]

Sam: Look, I'm extraordinarily difficult to impress. I think that things that wear clothes have completely misread the universe and what should be carried as important-- Myself included in that. But... you've done things I wouldn't have expected anyone to do down here. So... I got a little something for you. A going-away present, if you wanna label it. Don't think it's like a catapult to Earth or anything, but, uh-- It's like a token of my appreciation for what you've accomplished.

Lola: Aw, Sam. You didn't have to do that! Actually, you literally could have done absolutely nothing and we wouldn't have known the difference.

Lola: Ooo, what is it, what is it? Can I drive the cab? I---I wanna drive the cab--
Sam: You can't drive the cab, no.

Milo: Oh, awesome, thanks. I'm-- I'm excited to see it! A little scared, too, since, uh... Well, opening a present in Hell sounds nerve-wracking to me, for some reason.
Sam: It's not like a cartoon gift box, Milo, God. You'll see.

Sam: I should give it to you in private, though, by the cab. Away from the, uh, the-- the rabble.

Milo: Oh, okay.

[As they arrive at the cab, the scroll appears above them.]

Sam: So... Milo and Lola... I do bequeath you... my Seal of Approval.

Lola: Cool!

Milo: Whoa!

Sam: I know you cats already have all the Seals you need, but, um... just think of it like a good luck charm. And this way Luke can't fuck with you and say he swears up and down on a pyramid of baby heads that he said three Seals and not two. I've played softball with that guy too much to know he cheats like a mother f'er.

Lola: Wow, Sam... this... this means a lot, it does. I don't, uh, know what to say, really.
Sam: You don't have to say anything.

Lola: Wow, Sam... thanks. Thanks a lot, this... this is great, really.

Milo: Man, this-- this is awesome, Sam, really. Thanks.

Sam: We're, uh, we're friends. So. You know. No biggie. Alright, enough sappy bullshit, let's hit the road, get you kids back home.

[Sam gets into the taxi, and Milo and Lola must follow her. They drive off.]

Finding Friends (cont'd)[]

(TBC)

Notes[]

↑ Subtitles say "(...) happ?!--"
↑ Subtitles say "But it drives you jackanapes to do... terrible things-- capital T terrible."
↑ Subtitles say "Hey, I really don't, but it's a long night. Maybe you'll have me convinced by the end of it."
↑ Subtitles say "This feels weird."
↑ Subtitles say "(...) it could also just as easily be easier."
↑ Subtitles say "I'll-- yeah, fine, I'll-- I'll hold."
↑ ^7.0 ^7.1 ^7.2 ^7.3 ^7.4 ^7.5 Subtitles say "I guess the walk from the bar to here earned you at least two minutes."
↑ Subtitles say "(...) all ill-tempered."
↑ Subtitles say "But we're making it up for you."
↑ Subtitles say "Oh. So what did you-- what did you think of our part?"
↑ Subtitles say "Sounds like animal or something." [sic]

[1] Subtitles say "(...) happ?!--"

[2] Subtitles say "But it drives you jackanapes to do... terrible things-- capital T terrible."

[3] Subtitles say "Hey, I really don't, but it's a long night. Maybe you'll have me convinced by the end of it."

[4] Subtitles say "This feels weird."

[5] Subtitles say "(...) it could also just as easily be easier."

[6] Subtitles say "I'll-- yeah, fine, I'll-- I'll hold."

[walkfromthebar-7] 7.0 ^7.1 ^7.2 ^7.3 ^7.4 ^7.5 Subtitles say "I guess the walk from the bar to here earned you at least two minutes."

[8] Subtitles say "(...) all ill-tempered."

[9] Subtitles say "But we're making it up for you."

[10] Subtitles say "Oh. So what did you-- what did you think of our part?"

[11] Subtitles say "Sounds like animal or something." [sic]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

Afterparty Transcript

Journey to Satan's[]

The Beginning[]

The Mixer[]

Yeah, this is fun.

This party seems kinda lame...

Why would they think that?

Okay, take it easy.

(Say nothing.)

Doesn't it diminish your aptitude?

I guess I should settle my nerves.

(Say nothing.)

Sure!

No thanks.

(Say nothing.)

Try not to stress about stuff...

Make more friends than I did!

Make more friends than I did!

(Say nothing.)

(Said "Why would they think that?" or nothing)

(Said "Okay, take it easy.")

She seemed okay.

Yeah, what a mess.

(Said "This party seems kinda lame...")

I don't sound like that!

This party is kinda lame!

(Said "Yeah, this is fun.")

I don't sound like that!

Parties can be fun!

(1st time)

(2nd time)

(3rd time)

(4th time)

Movie guys

What movie are you talking about?

And what an ending!

Movie nerd alert! (Drunk)

(Say nothing.)

That wasn't me?

Hahaha, so funny!

At least I'll be remembered! (Drunk)

Intellectual couple

Crazy that school's over!

That's deep, man.

Maybe your personality... (Drunk)

(Say nothing.)

That wasn't me?

Hahaha, so funny!

At least I'll be remembered! (Drunk)

If you want!

Can't we just leave?

Watch the master at work. (Drunk)

(1st time)

(2nd time)

(3rd time)

(4th time)

Intellectual couple

Interesting concept.

Don't overheat, Einstein.

Maybe your personality... (Drunk)

(Say nothing.)

I just didn't go out much...

I went here four years.

I don't remember you, either. (Drunk)

Movie guys

Talking about a movie?

What are you drinking?

Read a book, losers. (Drunk)

(Say nothing.)

I gave you the heimlich last semester.

I went here four years.

I don't remember you either. (Drunk)

Who cares what they think!

Sorry this isn't working out...

(Say nothing.)

Yep. Here.

Is this a prank?

Milo and Lola in the house! (Drunk)

(Say nothing.)

They're fucking with you.