Deal with the Devil: Lucifer’s Game Show Trap | Werewolf Podcast Episode 181

In this dark fantasy horror-comedy episode of Werewolf the Podcast, Lucifer is back—and she’s making deals.

After bending fate itself, the Devil sets a dangerous plan in motion to force a deadly reunion between a savage werewolf and an immortal professor. But instead of brute force, she turns to something far more sinister… a game show in Hell.

As demons scheme, a djinn is tempted, and a cosmic entity known as the Gormant prepares his infernal entertainment, the lines between fate, free will, and manipulation begin to blur.

Can even the Devil control what happens next?

This episode blends supernatural horror, British humour, mythology, and chaos into one unforgettable chapter.

Expect:

• Werewolves and brutal consequences
• Deals with the Devil
• Dark humour and satire
• Hell, demons, and cosmic beings
• Fate vs free will

If you enjoy dark fantasy podcasts, supernatural storytelling, or twisted humour—this episode is for you.

Go find all things Jim Maerk at the Old man's Podcast

Books by Fenrir Thorvaldsen

Authors' page on Amazon.

https://amzn.to/3OJkzD0

The Werewolf's Story by Fenrir Thorvaldsen

https://amzn.to/4aX18xP 

Books by Gregory Alexander-Sharp

Authors' page on Amazon

https://amzn.to/4cTtf3C

Il Lupo by Gregory Alexander-Sharp

https://amzn.to/4aZyCvA

Buy us a coffee at this link right here:

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/Werewolfwil

Grendel Press, our horror genre partner

The best indie house publishers of horror in the blooming world

https://grendelpress.com/

Grendel's very own cool Podcast.

https://grendelpress.com/sinister-soup. 

Join the Lunatics at the Private Facebook Group.

Facebook Group

https://www.facebook.com/groups/werewolfthepodcast/

Greg's X profile: @SempaiGreg

Fenrir's X profile: @FenThorvaldsen

Werewolf the Podcast X profile: @AWerewolfsStoryWil

Intro partnership with Grendel Press.

https://grendelpress.com/

Outro partnership with Grendel Press.

https://grendelpress.com/

Transcript

The Demon Forgizalonois Trudure

A sudden flash of fire and a very angry Lucifer morning star appears in her office, stamping her Louis Voittons into the carpet tiles.  She is, let's say, on the edge of destroying everything she can, and to be honest, that could be almost everything.  She is a pretty powerful entity that is at the top of her profession and pretty in many ways.  

She is one woman who the glass ceiling of white male privilege has not stopped...

There again, she is not a woman...

In this case, she looks like one, but that is because that is how I see her...  

Oh, don't get me wrong. God is a male. Sorry! I know Feminists will be upset by this, and you woke folk that I am genderising the Christian God, but he identifies as a He and has a... thingy down there in his pants. I know having a thingy these days does not mean that you are a woman, but it helps identify you as a man in the majority of cases.

So he is a he, in everyone's eyes, whether you are a conservative believer or a progressive non-believer, or any mixture, or at any point in between. So, one could say that she has hit the glass ceiling that would make her God and that we would think that the Devil is, therefore, subordinate to him. But Luci loves her role so much that she would not take the big man's job if offered. She is not stupid. Being in her position is so much more fun and fulfilling. Being God must be... so dull... Everyone praying to you and asking you for things. At least if they pray to her, they become prey to her. She can make a sweet deal for their soul. He can't do that, can he? The souls might still do something as infragrant or as flagrant as sin.

I am Satan's secretary, a demon and the most hard-working being of all the levels. Oh, you may say differently if you see my daily schedule, but the truth is I hold this place and this Devil together. Behind every queen of hell is their demonic cat. Without my grounding and calming nature, she would have done something dangerous. Oh, and when I say dangerous, I mean like possible end of the... world... erm... Universe. Not sure what it would be but it would be a bad ending. 

As she arrives, the place changes. I mean her office.  What was once a bright and glass-surrounded penthouse suite in the sky at the top of a high building in Manhattan has turned into... well... An office.   

Not just an office, though. It is a tiny, horrible office with Formica furniture from the 70s.  The stench of cigarettes is in the air, and the room itself is made a lot smaller by the filing cabinets that line the walls.  They are those horrible grey filing cabinets that take off your fingers if they get a chance. These particular cabinets because it is hell; these things want your fingers and soul if they get a chance.

I have gone from a Georgis & Mirgorodsky Libertine sofa, the creme de la creme of the sofa world. Hey, what can I tell you? Demons have interests outside the daily grind of torturing and tempting. I mean, for me, Georgis & Mirgorodsky is a little crass for my tastes, but to lick your... on a sofa like that is life-changing. Listen to me, life changing. For that, you need a soul, and as we all know, I ain't got one of those.

Where was I? Oh, that is right.  I have left the luxury couch and am now sitting on the collapsed foam of a ripped cushion on the top of a steel-framed chair.  The static from the nylon does awful things to my luxurious coat. I might have to go to HR about this downgrade.

Anyway, that's my bit of this narration done. I had to have a bit myself.  I am in the next part of this story, but if I had not spoken now you would not have got to hear my dulcet tones as much as you deserve to...  

(long pause)

Are you still here?

(pause)

Go away now. I'm busy...

Lucifer.  

Ah, I flash into my... office. No, this is not my. Oh, I must be in one hell of a mood. That makes me smile for a moment. You know... you saw it. The pun. One hell of a mood.  

My secretary, Forgizalonois Trudure, sits uncomfortably on a steel chair with a ripped nylon seat cushion. Her eyes have a tale to tell.  Her tales sinusoidal state tells me she is not happy.  The little black cat is not... happy.

'See humans...' I gesticulate, opening my arms to the little cat who, for once, is quiet and paying me attention, which is a little strange, but okay, I will go with it.

After my dramatic pause, I continue. 

'See these humans...' I wait for a reply. I get a yellow-eyed stare. So I keep going.

'Well, I suppose he isn't human. He is a werewolf...' I say, passing my hands through my hair and noticing it is in excellent condition at the moment. 

'See this werewolf. He is predictable, and that makes this so difficult.'  

'How am I supposed to commit my plans when I can't change his dam behaviour? If anyone can change a damned behaviour, it should be me. I need these two to get back together and work together. But they just want to, you know, have.... what is it the young demons say... a meat?'

'I think you mean a beef.' Says the little cat.

'Weird how language changes, eh? Where did they get beef from as an argument?' I ask a rhetorical question as I look at the little yellow-eyed venomous demon.

'It stems from cockney rhyming slang. Hot beef, which sounds like 'stop thief', would be shouted in the poor parts of London as people wanted to deal with the crime themselves and not involve the participation of the Peelers. Of course, when I say the Peelers, I refer to the newly administered police force...' 

My stare stopped her.

'You did ask.' She said as she returned to washing her paws.

'There has to be a way. There has to be.'   I would have paced back and forth, but because of the size and clutter in the room, that would have meant that I would have just been jogging on the spot.

So, I stood for some time.  My impressive intelligence not finding any answers to bring them back together.

'Force them.' Says the little cat, looking up.

'You don't force these... people.' I reply.  

'They do not do being forced.' I continue.

'You don't have to force them to do it.' Says the cat.

In response, I turn and look at her.

She stops her grooming and looks up at me. 

'It would help if you got them together in an environment that will force them to work together to win. '

'What would that be then?' I ask her.

How about the game show?  

(As though talking to another member of the cast.)> Who is doing this bit?  (Could you shuffle some papers and speak angrily.)>  Me... okay. Okay!  (Then getting nice again.)

The narrator

In the magma chamber of Mauna Loa on the island of Hawai'i lives, I hate it when I say lives because it always makes me wonder if that is the case.  Does it live? What does that mean? I know I talk about it a lot, but does an immortal being live, or does it simply exist? I know it's silly of me to ask you guys that because you can't really tell me your opinions.  

What's that? Sorry, excuse me a moment, listeners. (Pause). Oh, that's right. You can always pass comments on this if you listen to us on Spotify.  Or you can get us on X, Instagram or the Facebook group.   Check the description below for links.  You could give me an idea if an immortal being lives. Do immortal lives matter?

Right. So, in the magma chamber of this giant active volcano, the Gormant lives. We have met this fine fellow before. He was in episode 142, A Party with the Fairy Folk in Faeton. Yeah, that's the one. It turned out to be Noel Edmonds, of all people, when not in his big batty form. It shocked me, too, to be honest.

Well, the Gormant has two things to do. He is the basis and the fury that besets a volcanic eruption. He is the beast that, when angered, makes the lava flow. He basically pops the zits that cover our young planet's surface. It doesn't sound so cool when you say it like that, does it? Unless you are one of those strange people who love to pop spots. You know who you are. 

The Gormant is more like the Balrog in Lord of the Rings than the Balrog in Lord of the Rings.   Not the one in the rings of Power. That CGI was nowhere near as impressive for some reason.  

The filmmakers and Tolkien only got it wrong in one way. The Gormant does not have a whip or a weapon. He does not need them. He gouts boiling liquid rock when provoked from his mouth. If you don't know better. Let's say that hot, sticky liquid would hurt you a lot. Hurts the wrong word. You would be incinerated instantly. 

I'd like to see him do the Pepper X challenge. That is the world's hottest chilli pepper, with an average heat rating of 2,693,000 Scoville heat units (SHU).  I think he would win...

He is 60 feet tall in his monstrous form. He is made from shadow and flame. He is made of energy, not matter. That does not matter, though, as he uses a lot of energy to control the matter, and that's what matters... (Pause) mmm!

The Gormant is doing what the Gormant does. He is preparing for the weekly game show he presents on Hell's One channel, cunningly called HBC. Cunning that, eh?   No, it does not stand for something as simple as HellsBroadcasting Corporation.  No, that would be too easy or normal. It stood for Hatred, Bigotry and Colin... Ah, Colin. Colin is one hell of a name.

Back to the Gormant, which was the point, and his game show. Hey, Everyone has to have a hobby and this was the Gormants. Wow, spell check seems to want to change the word Gormants to the word Germans. Hmmm, maybe some link there...

The Gameshow is the favourite of the Demons that exist in hell and is the one break that the tormented souls of the aforementioned place have from the torment exerted on them for all time. It is viewed by Billions of the lost, which outstrips any of the nonsense out there in the media of the human plain, except maybe the viewership of Mr Beast. I could tell you a lot about Mr Beast, but let's just look at his YouTube channel name, Mr Beast. I shouldn't need to go into detail about his supernatural background. He basically gives it all away at the start. 

Now, you may have thought that the Gameshow would have had some fantastic name like "The Degeneration Game", "The Worse Cursed", "The Hated One Hundred", or "Souled Out", or as a homage to "Deal Or No Deal", the Gormants last earthly Gameshow "Hell Or No Hell." But no, this Gameshow was called... "It's Calledthe Gameshow because demons are not that imaginative." No, not just the "Gameshow", but the whole bloody thing. "It's Called the Gameshow because demons are not that imaginative." 

It was pretty clever, actually, how this Gameshow, "It's Called the Gameshow because demons are not that imaginative," came about. Lucifer worked out that if she could keep the Gormant busy, then he would not do so much... damn... erupting.  

She had got fed up with his eruptions as the population grew over the centuries.  In the good old days, when humans existed in the hundreds of thousands or even millions, large-scale disasters would only kill a few.  These days, because there are billions of people, it could mean a hectic day in hell and a hell of a lot of paperwork to boot. Not good.

Also, with all the paperwork, the people who survived the eruption would be friendly to each other. It is a little-known fact that human nature changes for a while after major disasters.  They start to... help each other and become altruistic.  Oh, don't get me wrong, it soon turns back to an irritable dislike of one another, but for a short while, love is in the air. Relief releases Oxytocin and serotonin, and the public acts like a bunch of ravers who meet their forever friends at a rave every time. Except every time it is different friends. You know what I mean.

Also, the survivors are often thankful to be alive, and who do they thank? Yeah, God, Yeah, him. No, they don't blame him for the volcanic explosion. They blame Luci and thank him for their survival. It's not that they turn to God. It's the fact that they don't blame him for the eruption that annoys her. I get her annoyance. I really do. It must be... properly annoying. 

The second reason for keeping the Gormant busy is the Supervolcano that sits under Yellowstone National Park in America. It's a little-known fact... (whisper)> that it is overdue for an eruption. (Normal)> I hope you heard that; I had to whisper because if the Gormant hears me.  There will be hell to pay. Quite literally.

Now, this eruption is not a little pop like Vesuvius or Manau Lowa. I know, I know. They don't seem like little pops, but these eruptions are tiny compared to the beast below Yellow Stone.

Vesuvius's caldera, the bit where the lava comes out, is 450 metres, 1475 feet in diameter. Sounds big... and it is. It would cause a lot of problems when it pops, but... are you ready for this? Yellow Stones caldera, the bit where the lava comes out, has an average diameter of 35.5 miles, 57 kilometres! Which means that the caldera, the bit where the lava comes out, is 35 times larger than Versuvius's's'sesses. Sorry about that; the word 'Versuvius's' is hard to stop saying. 

So with this gain of knowledge. See, we are an educational Podcast, as well as everything else. That alone makes us worth a follow if you ask me. You can see why the Devil is worried about Yellow Stone.   When it goes bang, it is going to be what the scientists call an extinction-level disaster.  Oh, extinction does not bother her. What bothers her is s that there would be a lot of dead people to deal with in one swift go. She can't be arsed with that, can she? So you can see, her getting the Gormant into presenting a TV show has taken away quite a threat to her peaceful days. 

She was very clever with this. He had done his apprenticeship on Earth. She knew this was the only place where she could train him to be happy with the utterly meaningless nature of a game show. Why do we like them? Who knows.

Whilst there, he took the form of the human being Noel Edmonds.  We talked about him in the prior episode I mentioned.  Well, in his true form, he wouldn't have been as lovable or accepted by those working with him or the audience. Your tastes have to be on the extreme side to love a Gormant. No, I am not being judgy... No, I take that back. I am.

These days on HBC, he still presents in his human form and is a much beloved favourite of the demons and damned that watch his programme.  Now I have cleared that all up. We can go back to Lucifer to complete this episode.

Lucifer

Ping. I appear in the magma chamber of the Gormant's home. He has not done much with it. It is just superheated rock from wall to wall. I like it.

'What do you want, little Angel?'  It asks.

I smile at this. It is trying to belittle me; honestly, it is one of the few things that can do that. He is even beyond my scope. I can't hurt him. It is just made of energy. He is made of the Earth's energy itself. I can't stop the pressure of gravity, causing heating and magma... Well, that's not true... I could, but then... I think the Earth would fall apart, meaning there would be nothing to do. The Gormant would be gone, though. Hmmm

An enormous black bull-like head swings towards me, and hooved legs turn the creature.  Wings open behind it, touching the walls of the chamber.

`Gulp'. I gulp. Well, you don't say gulp, do you? You do it, then.

'I need a favour for which I will offer you a strike against fate.' I tell the beast.

It scratches its head in consideration—flakes of fire fall from that gigantic chin. 

'Show me.'  

I raise my hand to him. I open my fingers to reveal the die. He does not need to recognise the object. He just needs to feel what it represents.

Laughter echoes around the chamber.  

'A mighty offer, little Angel.'  He says. I instantly grow 70 feet, so I am a head taller than him in the chamber. I know it's a silly thing to do, but being patronised is not on my list of things I enjoy. 

The thing laughs again.  

'A show of power fallen one?'  He chuckles.

'You offer much. You offer me the opportunity to change fate when I wish.'  I nod. He knows what this means.  

'What is it you want.'  

'I need two... beings that are irritating me on your show... Oh, don't get me wrong, if you get them on together, it will be one hell of a show. These two are immortal and powerful and want to kill each other. So it will be an audience pleaser.'

Again, the blazing shadow scratches its chin and looks at me with firey eyes. 

It nods. I shrink back to my usual size.  A hand twice my size with eight fingers tipped with red hot iron claws reaches at me.  It does feel like "at" and "not towards" me. Maybe that is a little of my paranoia shining through.

It stops a few feet away, and the die is removed from my palm delicately by the pincer action of two tips of those terrifying talons. 

'Now begone!'  He dismisses me. I flash from his home.

Bosworth.

The bar has been right quiet recently. Loads of important stuff has been going on on all the planes of existence. I don't mind it being quiet, to be honest. Let me gather my thoughts.  Lets me relax...

'Hello, Bozzie' A dark-skinned beauty enters the bar, all shifting silk and the promise of sin. She smells of heated stone and desert winds. I hear vultures cry in my mind. 

'Luci'. I reply as I acknowledge her.  

'How are you, and how can I help you today? I know this is not a social visit. You don't do that social thing, do you? So what do you want... let me guess a wish.' 

'I need a wish, but I also do not need the recipients of that wish to know who gave it to them.'  She tells me. I laugh and smile. Of course, the great deceiver would want that.

'No wishes, I am afraid.' I turn my back to her.

She is suddenly standing in front of me on the other side of the bar. The bangles threaded on her wrists play like chimes, making me feel that buzz along the spine I no longer have. Deep hazel eyes look into my... hood. Patchouli and new sweat, the fresh perspiration you get after s... fill my non-existent nostrils.

She lifts a fist and draws my attention to it by moving her eyes. 

I look; what else is there to do?

She opens her perfectly manicured ring-covered hands and reveals the die within.

I gasp. It can't be. One of fate's dice. A die of fate. A way to change fate. Even I can't do that. Any wish or action I undertake is fated. I know it is complicated, but this is like a wish for a Djinn. A wish for a Djinn!

'What do you wish?' I say in response.  

She smiles... 'Well, all I need you to do is get Wil and the professor in hell at the same time. I need them to be friends. I would wish them to be friends, or I would change fate, but I know that bastard Gabriel would tell them. Then there would be heaven to pay. He is a little snitch like that, but if it came about through sneakier means by others while I have a... an alibi of sorts. Well, good old Goldy Wings would not guess, would he? He is not the brightest.'

'Where is it you wish them to go?' I asked her.

'The Gormants Gameshow.' She tells me.

'Do you think that this is wise?' I asked.

'Probably not, but it will be so much fun...'  She laughed.