Pettifogging flogging

Satan-Satan, the fallen angel, bullishly decided it was time to take the situation by the horns. It had become apparent to him that the Hell business, or the business of Hell - eternal punishment in the infernal - wasn't working out so well. It was a senseless sentence that left the sinners, well, senseless of their sentence: bereft of the capacity to comprehend their situation. And he had begun to identify with them. Perhaps it was Stockholm Syndrome. Or perhaps Hell was his punishment and not theirs'.

"There's no business like the Hell Business like no business at all."

Sang the minor demons demoniacally.

How did I sink so low?

Satan-Satan said to himself as his tears teared burningly down his cheeks and soaking his goatee.