The tiny demon scurried into the throne room, its claws clacking against the floor. At the other end of the room, in a throne made of bones and damned souls, sat Hades.

“Lord Hades, Lord Hades!” the demon yelled, as he reached the throne.

“Calm yourself, Etrigan. What do you need?” Hades said.

“My lord, it’s Charon! He’s refusing to ferry the souls!”

Hades stood up. “Let us make haste, then.”

Hades teleported them to the shores of the River Styx. Charon stood there leaning on his oar, a tall, thin, wizened old man with eyes that burned like hot coals.

“Explain yourself, Charon,” Hades said as he approached.

“Simple, m’ lord. I’m tired of carrying these wankers.”

“Very well. Give me your oar.” Hades commanded.

Charon handed over the oar. “That’s it, then?”

“No. I sentence you to the bleak depths of Tartarus for eternity, where you will be chained to a rock while the winds rip and tear at your flesh and demons feast on your entrails.”

Charon disappeared.

“Now, it’s time to find a new ferryman.”