Infernal Insurance, story by Jennifer Weigel
Let us take a brief glimpse into the Infernal Insurance Answering Service… because you always suspected as much.
A cherry-red-skinned woman with slightly pointed ears and long black hair wearing a studded black leather miniskirt and matching corset wakes from her nap. She turns to answer a 1950s era black rotary dial telephone from an office in the depths of Hades. A red light on the phone flashes to indicate that there is a caller on hold, which is released as an incoming call finally rings through after several attempts.
The demonic receptionist spins ever so slightly in the oversized leather office chair, using her barbed tail as a sort of paddle to push herself lightly along. She glances at an old microcomputer on the desk in front of her, its black screen just sitting there staring blankly ahead as if powered down permanently. She coils the tangled phone cord around a long black claw tipped with red.
As the receptionist speaks, smoke and brimstone curls around her yellow jagged rows of sharks teeth barely hidden behind her ruby painted lips. Her small wings rise and fall teasingly. Her flame yellow eyes glow, like those of a cat in the darkest night. She is both stunningly beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
“Hello and thank you for calling Infernal Insurance. May I put you on hold?”
The phone clicks over before the caller can respond. The loudest, most obnoxious elevator accordion and bagpipe music imaginable wafts from the receiver as the receptionist sets it aside to manicure her claws. After a long interlude she picks it up again.
“Thank you for holding.”
“Ok, first I’ll need you to verify your account with us…”
The computer screen in front of the demonic receptionist sits black and vacant until she presses a button on the keypad and it springs to life. An account number must be entered and verified to continue. The receptionist speaks into the phone, pausing just long enough to give the caller time to respond.
“What is your account number?”
“What is your current name as well as any other names, nicknames and pseudonyms you might have used or been associated with over the course of this lifetime and the three prior?”
“Yes, I need all of them.”
“Ok, now what is your most recent date of death associated with this account?”
The receptionist types in all of the information given over the next 12 pages without verifying the spelling of any of it. She enters a string of 6s scrolling through the last three pages until she is satisfied with her entry and hits the Enter button. She turns back to the phone call.
“Now we need a sample of your blood. Use the razor blade built into the phone receiver to slit your wrist and bleed into the phone mouthpiece.”
The receptionist types madly into the system. The screen flashes a red warning error message and goes black again.
“I’m sorry, we have no record of that account number as associated with you. Can you repeat that? Did you perhaps miss a nickname or misread or transpose any of the numbers? Sometimes the account number tattooing becomes less legible or migrates over time.”
The receptionist types the caller’s information in again, this time adding six more 6s at the beginning and again at the end than were spoken.
“You’re right, that was the correct number associated with your account. It seems we didn’t get enough blood to run through our verification process the first time, I’ll need for you to do that again. Try holding the receiver to your wrist for several minutes while you bleed out this time.”
The account appears on the screen, its content information slowly forming character by character in flaming red from the dark void in old school DOS fashion. The screen locks on a bill for $2,720,322.46 owed for services both rendered and not. A payment plan must be initiated to proceed.
“Ok, I found your account. You owe $2,720,322.46 in back policy payments.”
“Yes, I am sure that is the amount owed. Would you like to pay in full today? Do you have a bank account that you would like to use?”
“Yes, we can arrange for scheduled payments but there will be a surcharge for that service.”
The receptionist types in the bank account information given by the caller, this time verifying every figure three times to be sure to plug it in correctly. She hits the button to schedule monthly payments.
“Oh I see that you are already on our scheduled payment plan which is how you came to owe $2,720,322.46 with the surcharges, compounding interest and inconvenience fees. We will up your payment amounts, then. If you can offer a down-payment of your firstborn, we can minimize the amount you owe for each payment processed to the account.”
“Ah yes, I see that you have already done so, Carrie is in the system accordingly. Her balance is $1,425,866.53. We cannot transfer any more of your balance to her account. Do you have any other offspring?”
“Oh, I’m so very not sorry to hear that, what a tragic loss,” the receptionist smiles and runs a forked tongue over her jagged teeth. “No, we don’t cover those circumstances. Let me see what I can do.”
She downgrades the insurance plan from a Deluxe Super Premium plan to a Super Essential Premium Plus account. The resulting savings are -$35,609.24 so that now $2,756,933.70 is owed in total. It doesn’t add up, but that is to be expected.
“Ok, after some changes to your policy, I managed to get your payments down to $527.31 per month. It’s only a 300% increase.”
“I’m going to need to put you on hold again while I make those updates.”
The loud, obnoxious elevator accordion bagpipe music returns as the phone clicks over. The only comparable sound anyone can think to associate the hold music with is that of someone skinning a live cat. Fortunately, few callers have actually heard such a terrible sound as that of a live creature being skinned, but this so-called music is exactly what they would imagine it to be like.
The receptionist continues to file her claws to sharpened points, moving onto her exposed feet as she removes them from her thigh high leather boots to manicure those nails as well, before answering again.
“Thank you again for holding. Now, what did you need?”
She types “Maggots eating face” into the line to open a claim. She hits Enter.
“No, I’m sorry, but your policy type does not insure against maggots eating your face off. You would have to upgrade to a Deluxe Super Premium plan for that, but we cannot offer that policy type with your current amount of back payments owed.”
“Let me put you on hold while I look that up.”
The yowling cat elevator accordion bagpipe music returns briefly, inspiring even the most stubborn callers to want to cut out their eardrums or lobotomize themselves with an ice pick or do whatever it takes to make it stop. The receptionist yawns, takes a swig of coffee, flexes her wings, and clicks over the phone again.
“No, I see no record of your having been in that policy type before. You are in a Super Essential Premium Plus account. This account type has limited liability when it comes to bodily harm, possessions, and damages caused by weather, insects, animals, humans, demons, angels, and any other supernatural or otherworldly beings.”
“No, I’m sorry but as I’d stated previously, maggots eating your face is not covered by this account type. It will cover any routine losses caused by ordinary houseplants, several highly uncommon diseases, and some specific interactions with Azamir but not while online in any form. You will have to read the fine print on the 5,687 pages following the policy account information to discern just what is and isn’t covered in what circumstances.”
“Yes, you can file a formal complaint if you wish. As a receptionist for Infernal Insurance, I am mandated not to give you my name or identity so you will have to file any such complaint without said information.”
“To file a complaint, you will have to call back on Saturday morning between 2 and 5 AM and wait your turn on hold. We do not get to everyone in the queue every week, so it may take several Saturdays to get through. I’d recommend calling as close to 2 AM as possible.”
“All complaints are promptly incinerated the following Tuesday at 10 PM.”
“Thank you again for calling. I will put you on hold until the phone system will allow you to hang up. Have a horrible day.”
The demonic receptionist smiles a wide toothy grin as she clicks the call over to the grating hold music, takes another swig of coffee, and curls up in her chair for a long overdue nap. The red phone caller indicator light blinks that there is a call on hold waiting to be released as she drifts off to sleep again until the next call comes in.
And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
I have recently begun exploring Fibonacci poetry and penned this as a consideration for the Lovecraftian terrors while considering that Kansas was once an inland sea. It is also based on the beloved and enigmatic painting of Christina’s World by Andrew Wyeth.
She
stares
ahead;
the landscape
yawns ever further
spanning the distance between us
and that deep unthinkable unknowable abyss.
This plain was once an inland sea,
a vast ocean filled
with terrors
beyond
our
ken.
Time
stands
still for
none of us.
It marches towards
our inevitable decay.
Our fragile flesh succumbs to the horror of the void,
cradling our fallen progeny
and yearning for home.
Christina,
hurry
back.
Now.
It
could
happen
anywhere…
The farmhouse beckons
from its horizon vantage point,
thousands of blades of grass groping like tiny tendrils.
The ancestors grasping at straws,
hoping to evade
inevitable
collapse,
their
loss.
Stars
fall.
Panic
sounds beyond
our comprehension.
Their silent screams fall on deaf ears.
We cannot interpret their guttural languages
or understand their diminutive cries
this far from the tide.
Slumbering
depths still
snore
here.
The
ebb
and flow
roil and churn
with water’s rhythms,
caress the expanse of grasses
covering this now fragile and forsaken ocean.
The landscape gapes and stretches wide,
reaching to grab hold
of her dress,
earthbound.
Lost
her.
I hope you enjoyed this jaunt through Christina’s World into pure terror. Feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website. Or go on a trip to the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve.
So what better follow up to Invisibles Among Us in Nightmarish Nature than Monstrous Mimicry? Further exploring the leaps that critters will go to in order to eat and not be eaten. This time we’re focusing on those creatures that want to intentionally be mistaken for one another.
Insects Pretending to Be Insects
This is a pretty common subgroup in the mimicry set. Featuring such celebrities as the Viceroy Butterfly, which looks an awful lot like the Monarch. Why? Because everyone knows Monarch Butterflies taste nasty and cause indigestion. Duh? Though it appears the Viceroy took further cues from this and is not all that tasty in its own right either. Dual reinforcement is totally the way to go – it tells predators not to eat the yucky butterflies regardless. But some bugs go a bit further in this, imitating one another to seek out food or protection. Various wasps, spiders, beetles, and even some caterpillars impersonate ants for access to their nest or because ants aren’t as appetizing as their buggy counterparts to much of anything outside of the myrmecophagous crowd (as shared before, here’s a fun diversion with True Facts if you have no idea), though some also have nefarious plans in mind. And similarly, the female photoris fireflies imitate other firefly signals luring smaller males to try to mate with them where they are instead eaten.
Kind of Weird Mimicry: Insects Pretending to Be Animals
Moths are pretty tasty, as far as many birds and small mammals are concerned, so several of them find ways to appear less appetizing. Using mimicry in their larval form, they may try to look specifically like bird scat or even like snakes to drive away predators, with elaborate displays designed to reinforce their fakir statuses. And once they emerge as moths, they continue these trends, with different species flashing eye spots to look like owls, snakes, cats, and a myriad of other animals most of their predators don’t want to tangle with. But other insects pretend to be larger animals too, with some beetles and others producing noises often associated with predator, typically towards the same end – to deter those who might otherwise eat them.
Animals Pretending to Be Animals
Similarly some animals will mimic others. Snakes may resemble one other, as seen in the Milk versus King versus Coral Snakes and the popular rhyme, Red with Black is safe for Jack or venom lack, but Red with Yellow kills a fellow for all that it isn’t 100% accurate on the Red-Yellow end (better to err on the side of caution than not – so assume they are deadly). Fish and octopuses will imitate other fish for protection status or to conceal opportunistic predatory behaviors. And lots of animals will mimic the sounds others make, though Lyrebirds tend to take the cake in this, incorporating the vocalizations into mating rituals and more.
Really Weird Mimicry: Animals Pretending to Be Insects
Some of the weirdest mimicry comes out in animals pretending to be insects or small fish, where a predator will flick its strangely formed tongue that looks like a fish or water nymph to draw in more tiny critters that feel safe with their own, only to find themselves snapped up as dinner. Snapping turtles are notorious for this, disguising themselves in the muck to make their big asses less obvious and reinforce the ruse. Even some snakes do this.
Weirder Still
Then there are things that pretend to be plants. Like orchid mantises. Or sea slugs that look like anemones (some of which eat anemones and have stingers to match). I mentioned a few of these in the Invisibles Among Us segment last time, because some are highly specialized to look like very specific things and others just aren’t. Essentially, nature loves to play dress up and be confusing and adaptive. It’s like Halloween year round. And who can really argue with that?
Here’s a fun video from Animalogic exploring some of these themes. And feel free to check out more Nightmarish Nature here.
This prose poem considers sinking into self, how ongoing struggles with mental health and well-being have led me to take actions that reinforce the patterns therein, especially regarding depression and existential angst, succumbing to cycles that are familiar in their distress and unease. For these struggles are their own form of horror, and it can be difficult to break free of their constraints. I know I am not alone in this, and I have reflected upon some of these themes here before. My hope in sharing these experiences is that others may feel less isolated in their own similar struggles.
She withdrew further into herself, the deep, dark crevices of her psyche giving way to a dense thicket. She felt secure. In this protective barrier of thorns and stoicism, she hoped to heal from the heartache that gnawed at her being, to finally defeat the all-consuming sadness that controlled her will to live and consumed her joy. She didn’t realize that hope cannot reside in such a dark realm, that she built her walls so impenetrable that no glimmers of light could work their way into her heart to blossom and grow there. That by thusly retreating, she actually caged herself within and without, diving straight into the beast’s lair. And it was hungry for more.
Feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
-
Book Reviews2 days agoExploring real terror with The House of My Mother
-
Book Reviews6 days agoBook Review of Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror
-
Movies n TV7 days ago
Goosebumps, The Girl Next Door is For The Found Footage Lovers
-
Movies n TV6 days ago
Goosebumps Sputters along with Camp Nightmare
