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For some, it was the best of times, for others, it was the worst; for Fred, it was the latter.
To start, Fred had been plumped up by that sawed-off runt of a king, Lucifer. As far as Fred was concerned, Lucifer had no business babysitting him. This caused Charlie to do the unthinkable. It proved to Fred that she was indeed the seed of the devil himself: she took his fish snackies.
No, this could not stand. There would be a price to pay.
Fred assailed Angel, harassed Husk, and vexed Vaggie.
But for Charlie, he would unleash his most potent weapon.
MROOOOW.
Charlie threw the pillow over her head.
MROOOOOOOW.
She let out a groan.
MROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW.
She shot up and rummaged through the nightstand.
"Dear, what do you think you're doing?" asked Alastor, who was sitting in the corner of their bedroom, reading.
"Looking for some of Rosie's jerky to give to Fred."
"Now, now, my dear, you must have a spine. Fred here needs to lose weight."
Alastor rose and picked up Fred from the bed, and gave him a good scruffing.
"Besides," he said, "you need some sleep. I can't imagine dealing with Beelzebub tomorrow is going to be that pleasant of an ordeal."
Charlie smiled and went back to bed. "Thanks, Al."
Alastor and Fred vanished from the bedroom and reappeared in the hotel lobby.
With a snap of his fingers, Alastor conjured up a cat carrier and stuffed Fred in. He then placed the carrier under the reception desk.
"Remember this, my dear boy," he said, "I am the Radio Demon. Those little meows of yours don't work on me. But, if you shed some of those pounds, I'm sure Charlie will give you back your treats."
Alastor stuck one of his claws through the bars and booped Fred right on the nose. "Beheave." And with that, Fred was alone.
The next morning, before Charlie and Alastor left for their errand, Charlie had placed Vaggie in charge of the hotel.
Vaggie placed Fred on the desk and started scrolling through her phone. Frankly, if Fred had one redeeming quality, it was that he was utterly amazing at sniffing out agents of the Vee's masquerading as potential guests. Though that did, from time to time, mean that Angel would get bit.
The door opened, and the two of them saw a small man in a black leather smock of sorts. As he got closer, it became crystal clear that the man was a fish.
Oh, it was no longer the worst of times; it was now the best of them.
"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. I'm Vaggie."
"Nice to meet you. My Name is Baxter, and I'd like a room."
Vaggie handed him a piece of paper. "Fill this out."
He did as he was told, but every time he looked up, the caged cat-looking thing was boring a hole into him with those bugged-out beady eyes.
"Umm, miss, what the hell is that thing?"
"A cat... we think."
"You think?'
"It belongs to one of the co-owners."
"Oh." It didn't take a genius to figure out who she meant.
Fred was staring at Baxter, letting out deep, static-laced breaths.
Baxter gave the form back and Vaggie went over it.
"You know, miss, I heard of this place when I saw that commercial about six months ago." Vaggie let out a groan; unpleasant memories indeed. "Though once I heard that Pentious was redeemed, I said, 'What the hell, let's give it a shot.'"
"On the 'Why are You in Hell' section, I need you to be more specific. What do you mean you sank a boat?'
"Oh yes, I sank the Titanic in... 1912, I think."
"Wasn't that an iceberg?"
Baxter let out a little chuckle. "Actually, I was smuggling some explosives on board when I accidentally got some cigarette embers on a stick of TNT and..."
"Never mind. You can talk about it during circle time when Charlie gets back," Vaggie said, handing him a key.
"Thank you. Oh, and where is the Princess and the Radio Demon?"
" Seeing if Beelzebub can make a non-alcoholic version of her drink for the hotel."
Baxter winced. That sounds just awful, he thought.
He went up the stairs and stopped. He had a sneaking suspicion that someone was watching him.
Baxter couldn't sleep. The mattress was too lumpy for him. So he decided to walk around for a bit. He went back down to the lobby. Not a soul in sight.
There was an odd purring-like sound coming from under the reception desk. Baxter went over and saw Fred nuzzling the bars of the carrier.
"Well, aren't you an interesting cat... I guess."
Fred let out a small meow and continued to nuzzle the bars. Baxter, feeling a bit sorry for Fred, opened the cage. He knelt and wiggled his fingers at the cat.
Fred took a sniff. Then another. He licked Baxter's hand.
"Hehe, that tickles little guy."
Fred looked Baxter right in the eyes and bit him.
Baxter let out a yelp. "Holy shit!" He clutched his wound. "Ungrateful bastard!"
Fred just stood there licking his lips. Oh yes, this was infinitely better than mother's fishy snackies.
Fred pounced on Baxter's chest; tentacles were holding the little fish sinner down. Fred started licking the tears from Baxter's eyes. He let out a low mrow.
Baxter closed his eyes and prayed that just a little bit of God's mercy could reach Hell.
MROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! MROOOOOOOOOOOOW!
Baxter's eyes shot open. There, he saw a black cat with huge eyebrows, scruffing the fat, demonic red one.
"Fred, if your mama was here to see this, she'd die from heartbreak."
A static screech shot through the cat's mouth. You mongrel curr! I'll use your eyesockets for my kibble bowl!
"Yeah. Yeah. You listen to Alastor too much, ya fat fur-ball."
You ungrateful mutt! Father has been too kind in letting you live. I'll make sure your drunken soul's screams are heard on his broadcasts for eternity!
Husk let out a chuckle. "Sure, Fred. Papa just needs to learn how to speak cat first." And with that, Husk tossed Fred back in the carrier and locked it up. He then went over to the bar and poured a shot of whiskey.
"Well, do you want some?" Husk shouted at Baxter.
Baxter ran over and downed it in under a second. All the while, Fred was screeching in the background.
"What the fuck was that?" shouted Baxter.
Husk took a swig from his bottle, "You're a fish. He's a cat. Do the math."
"And you?!"
"Never cared for fish."
Baxter just starred. Husk poured him another shot, and Baxter downed it.
"I take it you'll be leaving?"
"Fuck yes! Tell whoever they can burn my stuff!"
With that, Baxter bolted out the front doors.
Husk looked at the counter; no tip. "Cheap ass."
He then walked over to the carrier and gave it a good thump. "Oh shut the fuck up, you knock-off radio demon."
Fred responded with unintelligible static.
"Now what am I gonna tell your mother?" Husk smirked.
Tell her whatever you want! Mother has a large heart! She'll forgive me!
"Yeah. But, she'll cry, and your daddy sure as shit ain't the forgiving type when she sheds tears."
Fred let out a hiss.
"Well, Dough boy, was it worth it?"
The fish sinner's flesh must be what an Apple of Eden tastes like!
Husk laughed, took a swig, and threw a table cloth over the cat carrier.
When Charlie and Alastor returned to the hotel in the afternoon, Husk decided to spare Charlie the gory details and simply told her that Baxter had gotten cold feet and left.
Alastor, however, got all the gore.
He took the cat carrier and went up to the radio tower.
"Fred, my boy," Alastor said, "that is no way for a cat of a gentleman, much less a hotelier, to act. So, you'll have to be taught a lesson."
Alastor snapped his fingers and a treadmill appeared. He placed Fred on it and fiddled with the buttons.
"Since Charlie says you need to lose weight and you also need a good punishment, I think this will kill two birds with one stone."
Alastor started the treadmill and put an upbeat jazz album on the record player.
Mrow?
"Young man! I told you once before, I am not your mother. That doesn't work on me."