A colourful “Blackout Talk” sign flashed on every TV screen in hell before switching to the sight of Vox’s figure posing in shadow.
“Hello and welcome to the Blackout Talk show!”, - Vox declared, jumping out of the dark. The studio simulation behind him got illuminated in an instant.
“It is time for an especially exclusive breaking about the recent hitch that’s been on everyone’s minds since a few days ago!”, - he rattled on. The background switched its form to fit every few words that came out of Vox’s mouth. Just like always, the audience was glued to the TV screens all across hell, completely enticed by what they were seeing and hearing.
“It’s inconceivable to conceptualize how much trouble this ENORMOUS indigestion is going to cause the Pentagram city! Oh, can’t you just help itching for the flow of juicy embarrassing footage of your foes appearing on socials? It’s already here! Just ask my charming acquaintance Velvette!”, - Vox gestured to the picture of the female overlord appearing in the corner of the screen.
“She is sorting out the fresh consequences of this smelly disease already! This is about to get HOT and SPECTACULAR for everyone, and I mean EVERYONE. The disease is spreading rapidly across the city after all…”.
Vox made a solemn pause, before continuing to talk: “But if we distract ourselves from moping over how much it fucked demons over, we might as well accumulate some positive mood to fight all this shit with!”.
And then Vox heard an insufferably familiar voice tuning in.
It said: “A positive mood is a notably wonderful idea! However, everything else that was said is a mish-mash of tacky naffness! Just as expected from you!”, - the voice got filled with radio static when it gave a few chuckles.
Vox physically trembled with anger, his wires about to short-circuit. He abruptly stopped himself, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to calm down. He was not going to let the radio demon make him loose signal again.
Alastor meanwhile continued to talk: “Dear listeners, I am pleased to be present here today to bring my pondering about such a unique problem into light!”.
Vox gritted his teeth, grabbed the microphone with both hands and hissed into it: “Look who arrived to leech off of my idea! I was here first, Bambi, so get fucking lost!”.
“Ah ah, my dimwitted friend, this is not a matter of who’s first! It’s a matter of who does it best, and in this respect, it is you who is overreaching himself~”.
“Fuck you”, - Vox flipped off the large screen in front of him that was showing the radio hosts’ smug face. Then the Tv host spoke more enthusiastically: “What could you offer that is so special anyway? I’ve got the style!”, - Vox proudly posed, showing off his perfectly tailored suit.
“The entertaining footages ready for the awaiting audience!”, - Vox gestured to the blacked out icons with question marks appearing all around him: “And the brilliant attitude to top it all off! And you? Everyone feels bad for your listeners who prefer to be stuck listening to your annoying voice! That’s facts!”, - Vox smirked haughtily.
“You should learn to speak for yourself”, - Alastor retorted, unbothered and cheeky as ever: “People with a truly existing taste would not bear your hollow display of twitchy nonsense! It is only good for adding headache to the list of problems Hell is offering. At times like these, it is far more relaxing to listen to a radio broadcast! After all, I never fail to offer a more elegant and mindful way of representation”.
“As if!”, - Vox slammed his hands on the table and bend down to yell straight into the microphone: “Elegant? Mindful? An old buffoon like you couldn’t even hold his gas in while on air, I’m fucking SURE of that!”.
Right after Vox said that, he felt and heard a huge fart blasting out of his behind, lifting the tails of his coat. The Tv host immediately drew up, surprised at himself. With how the crude noise was loud enough to echo in the room, it was definitely heard by everyone. It was too late to fix that.
“What can I say?”, - Alastor spoke up, clearly amused: “You just proved that you are anything but a man of self-control, in all the ways! With how forced your boast is, it doesn’t come much as a surprise that something else forced its way out of you”. The recorded audience laughter resounded on air, jeering at Vox even further.
“Haha, very funny”, - Vox moodily grumbled, crossing his arms: “Laugh while you can Bambi, but now everyone is waiting with baited breath for you to rip ass too. Have fun delaying that moment”, - he smirked venomously, desperate to make a stronger jab at Alastor.
“Booshwah! That moment is never going to happen!”, - Alastor says, relaxing in his chair and putting his feet on the table: “Unlike some people, I certainly can serve as a paragon of keeping this windy situation under control! And I’m more than ready to inspire my darling listeners to follow my example! For the sake of keeping Pentagram city devoid of crude displaying of passing gas, even if a little”.
Alastor’s luck immediately ran out as a monstrous loud fart burst out of his rear. The radio host jumped on spot a little, startled by that, his eyes widening. The microphone in Alastor’s studio got assaulted with the monstrous volume of his fart and emitted a high pitched ring.
Vox wasted no time reacting profusely to what had happened. “BWAHAHAHAH! You call that keeping it under control?! Oh, sure, you are DEFINITELY fit for teaching us inferior beings after your ass almost fucking blew the micro off the holder!”, - Vox doubled over in a fit of laughter, forgetting all about his own bloating.
That made a few popping farts drop out of Vox’s ass, to which he reacted with less amusement: “Hahaha.. hahah… hah… Yeah… Fuck. So, Bambi, say something for us, will you? Or have you lost your voice?”, - with sarcastic invitation, he pointed his finger at the screen with Alastor.
“You wish”, - Alastor growled before sighing and switching to a more lively voice: “Even with this minor setback, I can safely deny that you could ever possess the fundamental manners to respectfully speak up about this disease. So be a dear and switch off before I make you feel sorry for calling me Bambi”, - Alastor’s eyes turned into radio dials as he made that threat.
“Some nerve you’ve got!”, - Vox fumed, his voice gaining a demonic digital bass: ”You just let one rip on air, and yet you insist that you’re the one that’s got manners? Fucking clown!”. With that a long bubbly fart burst out of The TV host. Vox hissed and rubbed his stomach. It was starting to hurt and gurgle in a rather ominous way.
“I was talking about the phrasing you’d use to talk about the disease”, - Alastor said in a slightly more annoyed tone of voice. Then he felt his belly getting filled with large torrents of painful gas all of a sudden. The radio demon instantly dropped his feet to the floor and fought the urge to groan.
“Well who the fuck do you think you are to judge….?!!!”, - Vox started yelling when his stomach gave out a very loud and dirty growl. The TV host shivered and whined, holding his abdomen.
And then something unimaginable happened. Vox’s bowels roared with the largest fart yet. It lasted for 20 seconds, emitting powerful pops and rumbles. They even made Vox’ whole body vibrate a bit. In a matter of seconds the lights in the studio suddenly went out, startling Vox. As the fart went on and on, the wires attached to the TV host’s head and all the digital assets started short circuiting and throwing out sparks.
Soon enough the whole studio was failing to function. Vox simply stood there in darkness with only one screen working. In that screen, Alastor was looking just as shocked and wide-eyed as him.
“Well… look at that!”, - Alastor slowly spoke, his surprised small smile widening and turning more sinister: “The blackout Talk show suffered from an actual blackout!”. The recorded laughter flowing from the dynamics made Vox cringe again. He hated that sound with a burning passion.
“How ironic it is that you are the one losing your signal again”, - Alastor said, still holding his belly and pressing his ass firmly into his chair’s seat to try and prevent gas from slipping out: “It’s best to m-move on from this pathetic and embarrassing display onto the topic of the disease! Hgggn…!”.
Alastor’s belly growled loud enough for the sound to be heard by the listeners. Sweat covered deer demon’s forehead, but his stubbornness urged him to fight on and continue the broadcast. Alastor spoke as fast as he could, his voice slightly cracking:
“A-as you all know…”.
A wet fart, blasted out of Alastor’s behind, interrupting him and making his face turn red.
Vox bit his lower lip to keep himself from laughing. He wanted to see the whole scene first.
“Ahem! As you all know”, - Alastor repeated himself, grimacing in irritation: “It is tormentingly apparent that q-quite a lot of stamina has to be built up to hold these winds at bay… Oh, dear! Hnghh…”.
Vox squinted gleefully as he could see Alastor grab his belly with both hands and double over in agony again, groaning in deep voice. Then the deer demon’s ass began to erupt with series of firecracker-like farts. The radio host had a desperate expression on the whole time, hating what was happening but powerless to stop it.
Then his bowels released a single massive valley of gas. The volume and length topped the fart Vox destroyed his studio with. At this point, Alastor was positively terrified of what his body was doing.
Huge amount of vile gas filled Alastor’s studio in few seconds, tinting the air a smoggy-greenish scent. Now it not only got harder for the radio host to breathe, but also led to the facilities malfunctioning too, corrupted by the humidity of his gas.
Alastor tried to speak and his own voice came out as a garbling mess. Vox couldn’t recognize a word his rival was saying.
The TV demon smirked in satisfaction, enjoying the fact that Alastor’s gas destroyed his chance at leading a radio broadcast. Now they were in similar positions. However, Vox was still largely upset by his program failing and sulked once again.
“Fuck it”, - Vox breathed out: “Today is not the right day nor for radio, nor for TV”. He switched off the sole working screen and bolted out of the studio room in anger.
Alastor acted in a similar manner. There was no point in saying ‘goodbye’ to the listeners as his voice refused to recover whole he stayed in the midst of his gas. So the radio demon just switched everything off completely and left the studio fuming and pinching his nose, his butt releasing small poots.
Meanwhile, in the hotel’s hall, all the hazbins were shocked witnesses of the whole thing. When it started, they had curiously switched on TV and radio to keep track of both parties of the dispute.
“Those were their most entertaining performances ever!”, - Angel said, still chuckling uncontrollably: “Anyone agree with me?”.
“What fucking idiots, those two…”, - Vaggie mumbled, shaking her head: “What was the point in dedicating a whole program or a broadcast to farting anyway?”.
“Well at least they succeeded somewhat”, - Husk said: “Thanks to that grand display, everyone in Hell now knows just how annoying this fucking disease can be. Also, everyone can take a break from those two, so that’s a good thing”.
The cat demon reached for his booze bottle. In doing so, he accidentally blew a bubbly fart that lifted his tail and hit Angel’s hips. Husk heard Angel sputter in disgust and whispered tiredly: “Fuck…”.