“Welcome to Hell, what punishment would you like?” The devil asked him behind the counter.

Harry stared at the obnoxiously red skin in a tuxedo. His hair was neatly sleeked back showing his two jutting horns proudly. Apparently Hell took place at a hotel concierge where the devil takes your reservations.

“I get to choose what punishment I get?” Harry asked confused.

“In hell, we believe in freedom of choice,” The devil replied in the same customer service tone back on Earth. It was unnerving and somewhat annoying, though Harry thought he probably shouldn’t feel this way about a devil and swallowed it down.

“Okay then… what am I getting punished for?” Harry asked. Something felt fishy so he needed to know the terms and conditions.

The devil in front of him leaned in closely and whispered, “What do you believe you should be punished for?”

Chills ran down his neck. This is definitely a trap, I’ve just walked myself into a trap, he spiraled.

Harry knew immediately what this was. It was a test — one of the highest conduct. If he tried to exploit them for luxuries then they would immediately know he was a shady character thus deserving of a punishment. If he gave too big of a harsh punishment than it would look he was trying too hard to appear good and thus revealing him to be shady.

It’s a catch 22 — very fitting of Hell.

Alright, I just need to come up with a Goldilocks type punishment that’s not too harsh and not too light but will show his humility and good character, he mused. The devil was oddly patient and Harry thought deep into the dilemma before finally demanding his price.

“To atone for my sins, I will get caned ten times a day.”

It wasn’t a light sentence but it was durable and definitely showed that he had an appropriate weight of punishment and definitely was not trying to cheat the system. Furthermore he deliberately took his time to show that he was reflective of his actions on Earth.

“Ah caning, old but effective. We have a room just for that,” The devil replied excitedly, leading him to the elevator. “We have a room just for that.”

The elevator ride was silent and it made Harry break into cold sweat. Any minute now. They’re going to reward me for my test of character. It’s all a sham, he told himself over and over again until he himself believed it.

As they reached the fifth floor, the devil lead him to the four room on the right.

“There you go, Room 504: The Canning Room,” the devil said nonchalantly again as he held the door for him.

Harry walked in and the door closed in on him. The room was empty and he was all alone. Harry laughed. He knew it. This was a test and he just beat the devil at his own game.

Suddenly, he felt a slashing pain on his back that made him inversely arch forward. He turned around to see a cane appear and disappear in thin air. The pain on his back stung red hot and was not subsiding - that hurt much worse than he thought.

Ah, I get it now, there testing if I’m actually meant what I said. I need to act and look like I’m remorseful!

So Harry sat down in a position that he thought looked reflective. He didn’t complain about the caning even though it hurt like a bitch. He just sat and waited for his next cane. He wasn't sure if he was delusional or if he's back just wasn't ready yet but each caning hit harder than the last. It sent him reeling but he gritted his teeth and accepted it , I know they’re watching. I’ll show them I'm not bad.

One Year Later….

The devil joined by his colleague both identical in neat tuxedos, sleek back hair and jutting horns watched Harry through a digital screen at the concierge.

Harry was sitting cross-legged in a meditative pose as he braced for the coming canings.

“Do you think he’ll ever get it?” devil one said.

Devil two only laughed as he upped the pain level of the canings.

“What was he in for anyways?” devil one asked.

“Fraud and embezzlement — apparently he’s not very good at it.”