Seated atop a throne of skulls and skeletal remains of the damned sat the very personification of evil: Satan - a former angel cast from Heaven into the fiery underworld. The fall had twisted his once-beautiful form into the monstrous figure we all recognize: cloven hooves, blood-red skin, a snaky tongue, dragon-like eyes, and twisted horns spiraling from his skull.

But unbeknownst to Satan, he was about to be cast from his infernal throne once again - not by God, but by a certain feline of a particularly fluffy nature, now making its entrance into the underworld of the damned.

As was typical in Hell, the air was filled with the screams of the tormented. Flames clung to writhing bodies while demons hurled them into lava pits, stabbed them with pitchforks, or subjected them to ironically fitting punishments. Satan smiled with glee as he watched God's creations suffer - until a nervous impish assistant, wearing a bowtie, approached the throne holding a demonic rotary phone, its receiver glowing faintly red-hot.

Curious, Satan asked, "What's that?"

The imp cleared his throat. "Well, actually, sir... we're expecting a call from the true ruler of Hell - Lord Fluffy the Unforgivable."

"WHAT?!" Satan bellowed, flames shooting up around him. "What do you mean I'm not the real ruler of Hell?!"

"You were only substituting for Lord Fluffy as part of your punishment," the imp explained. "It was all in the contract."

"And when was I told about this?" Satan asked smugly.

"You were emailed," the imp replied, pointing at the spiked demonic smartphone hanging from Satan's belt.

Grumbling, Satan unlocked his phone. Sure enough, it was flooded with emails - some angry, some resigned, all from Heaven's HR department. The last one from God read:

"Lord Fluffy will soon awaken from his slumber. You are to obey him without question. - God"

Satan scoffed. "Like I'm gonna obey a small, fluffy ca - "

RIIIIIIIIINNNGGGGGG.

The demonic rotary phone screamed to life, spewing smoke and infernal sparks.

The imp jumped. "Sir! It's him!"

Satan snatched the receiver. "Yeah? Who the hell is this?"

A low, rumbling purr filled the line. Then a voice, smooth yet thunderous, said:

"This is Lord Fluffy. And my litter box is an apocalypse waiting to happen if it's not cleaned NOW."

Satan froze. "You've gotta be kidding - "

"Do you want your horns turned into scratching posts?" Lord Fluffy asked sweetly.

The line went dead.

Satan stared into the distance, pale and sweating. Then the ground rumbled. From the shadows emerged a titanic feline, its black fur flowing like smoke, whiskers stretching across the landscape, and golden slitted eyes that burned hotter than brimstone.

The monstrous cat fixed its gaze on Satan and boomed:

"MY LITTER BOX ISN'T GOING TO REFILL ITSELF, Y'KNOW!"

Satan, now visibly trembling, didn't argue. He grabbed the oversized pooper scooper and shuffled off. Behind him, Lord Fluffy - mighty, majestic, and already licking his paw - sprawled across the bones of the damned, indifferent to the chaos he ruled.