GRAND RAPIDS, MI -- Josh Grinnell heard his cell phone ringing for the third time today. He had promised himself he wouldn't accept any calls from work, but there was a deep nagging in him to do so. “Sweetheart, it's your first real vacation in 7 years,” Josh’s girlfriend reminded him, “the restaurant will still be there when you get back. Go spend time with your family.”
          Meanwhile, in hell, Peter Porter looked at the restaurant's phone dumbfounded. “He...he didn't pick up, I guess we should open or something.” It appeared to the staff that their family friendly diner had been somehow sucked through a portal into the place of eternal damnation. As the doors were unlocked and a sea of unholy demonic figures swarmed the restaurant, Josh felt a chill come over him and a bead of sweat make its way down his forehead. Peter sighs and lets out a final, “Man, I hate Sundays.”

      
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