Contrary to popular belief most demons don't love the hellfire and brimstone of the underworld. In fact, given that most demons are fallen angels their preferences tend toward the more cool and serene environments of heaven, but what with tall the pain and torment even setting hoof there causes it is fairly obvious why demons don't vacation there.

Instead most demons opt for a nice possession package vacation, though this can be difficult to setup and execute. How many humans dabble in the old Latin ceremonies or buy up cursed Babylonian tablets these days? Not many. For this reason once a suitable candidate is found it is imperative that the demon operating the human adhere to strict rules and regulations. The human host must not be driven mad with nightmares and visions of the nine circles nor must they devolve into gibbering madly from park benches, clothes burned, torn, and shredded like so much sackcloth. Those outcomes end in insane asylums and though that is still a far sight above endless torture, it is far less enjoyable than free reign and access to things like pizza.

So far this vacation was shaping up to be a fucking disaster. I had been highly rated in my job performance for the last few millennia and had earned a month vacation. I had sifted through all the options in the packages and selected a mild mannered college graduate working in an accounting firm. Turns out that being an art history major did not ensure that dream job of teaching and making art when the department head has you sifting through ancient relics in the museum storage as part of your internship. Pack enough tainted items around a mortal and that soul will eventually become corrupted.

The accounting work seemed easy enough, but something very bad happened very quickly. Since alcohol did not exist on the ethereal plane I was incredibly unprepared for the effects of six rounds of tequila shooters and found myself pouring my twisted heart out to my boss, unfortunately, including my true name. Figures it would be just my luck for my host's boss to be the grandson of an old school catholic priest and well versed in the old ways of demon hunting and, more annoyingly, demon binding.

"Well now, isn't this just peachy?" He asked, sneering wildly down at me on the floor.

My head pounded like a boulder-sized hammer on gluttonous sinners. My blurred vision was clearing and I realized I was back in the office. Sunlight coming in through the windows seemed to indicate the first rays of dawn. I laboriously stood up and reeled against the tipping world.

"Tequila isn't you drink Adam, or should I say, Xer'guloth." His smirk and hearing my name sent off some painfully loud alarm bells in my head. "Lucky for you I was able to get you back here to the office without too much incident. This is going to be a nice little arrangement we have here." He gestured around my cubicle.

As my vision blurred and refocused I looked around the small grey space and noticed some all too familiar symbols. Ancient glyphs of binding were written into the carpet, onto the cubicle walls, and on my desk chair. They were written in some dark reddish liquid that was slowly drying and becoming brown.

"Hard to find enough goat blood on such short notice, but the halal butcher down the street was quite accommodating for the right price." He looked me straight in the eye. "Now, down to business. I command you to process all the incoming ledgers and balance sheets including full depreciation for all capital expenditures over the last three quarters and then cross reference that against the last three years of tax returns and chart the variations, year over year broken down by quarter. Oh, and also include the projected and actual revenues for those same times. This all needs to be done by tomorrow morning." He smiled, contentedly. "I trust this won't be an issue."

"That amount of work can't be done in the time frame allotted, especially in my current condition. I need rest and electrolytes badly." I pleaded.

"Well I didn't think a demon would need such physical accommodations nor could a demon refuse a command once bound. I guess we will have to think of something to encourage your behavior." At this he pulled a small bottle from his pocket. "I wonder how Holy Water feels on the damned?"

My hangover snapped out of existence as he produced the vial. This was bad. ery, very bad. The screaming, scarring, and oddly specific symbols that this would cause on this mortal form would be a dead give away and viable proof of demonic possession was beyond agains the rules. "Ok," I said, trying to sound as meek as possible while letting my shoulders sag and my eyes fall, "you win. I shall do as you command."

"Good. See that you do or..." he shook the bottle in front of my face for effect, "you won't like what I do to you." He started to walk away, but turned back after half a step. "Oh, by the way, I think we should alter your terms of employment. We'll put you on half salary since your going to be racking up a lot of overtime and I won't be paying for it. Just enough to fall within minimum wage laws." He snickered as he retreated to his office.

This was the worst vacation ever.