I've struggled with bureaucracy on the seventh floor of Hell and kept a literal army of demons in line with my husband, Astaroth, but I have never been this exhausted. Seriously. A demon is straightforward; they either want your soul or a bit of chaos.
But the "Higher-Ups"—those glowing, self-righteous types who think they know everything—when they assigned me "Community Service," they neglected to mention it would be a form of glorified babysitting.
Do you know where I am right now? In a pink room. Yes, everything is pink.
The walls are "cotton candy explosion" pink, the pillows are fluffy, and the rug looks like your teeth would rot just by stepping on it. And standing right in front of me is the greatest tragedy in human history, dramaturgy, and basic logic...
Lola.
