CERBERUS

“Vicious dog.” Says the inspector.
“He’s supposed to be vicious.” Hecate looks amazed. “He’s keeping the dead in and the living out.”
“Does his license show him as a vicious breed?” probes the inspector.
“He doesn’t have a license. What he has is three heads. We’re waiting here so Hercules can fulfill his twelfth labor.”
“Not without a license,” reprimands the inspector.
“Would that be one license for the guardian of Hades, or, perhaps, one for each head?” Hecate is getting cross.
“No need for attitude.” The jobs-worth selects a branding iron from the pits of hell’s fire – TO DESTROY – glowing red hot…
… And it was the last thing he ever did.
Cerberus licks his lips and belches contentedly.  Hercules enters the void.

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