Infernal Tuesday

Muttering infernal invective under his stinking breath, Tuesday was fuming. He'd decided that this week would be ideal for unleashing some profound despair and misery on the humans and wanted to be properly prepared for this week's shift. His talons were sharp, and he'd just cleared some hellshite out of his cloven hoof with the end of his battlespork. Tuesday was a professional, a demon of the most severe cruelty and wickedness. No mortal could withstand his attack on hope. None could remain optimistic in the presence of Lord Tuesday. Everyone was subjected to the same withering, levelling despair, and Tuesday really enjoyed his job.
This week was the week of "Black Friday" - named for his fellow demon's great assault of materialism upon the poverty stricken masses.

Of all the demons in Hell, he hated Black Friday the most.  That arrogant self-styled "Chief Minister of Materialism" was unbearable at this time of year - his festival of greed had become an undoubted success in recent years.  Those miserable humans could barely contain themselves as they fought for those fancy baubles and gadgets - mere gewgaws of no real worth. But Black Friday had become a crowing and bombastic Duke of Hell on the back of this event.

Lord Tuesday had been plugging away for decades, possibly even centuries. (It was all a bit hard to keep track of those things in the eternal dimensions.)  He'd kept his impish minions Gutbolger & Blaghearse constantly busy implementing his plans. He'd built up a level of mind-gnawing despair that infested human souls everywhere AND diverted their attention making the sickly mortals blame his lazy colleague Count Monday instead.  Tuesday had developed evils such as boredom and drudgery into the finely honed infernal weapons of ennui and purposelessness.  These were sicknesses of the human soul that had the power to destroy whole civilizations.  He'd been relentless in his scheming, Tuesdays had been installed in every human week (there was that strange mortal concept of Time again)  And here was this detestable Black Friday who couldn't bother to get down to the business of damnation more than once a year.  What an infernal bastard.  
Tuesday spat and stabbed his long fork into a fat and slightly overcooked damned soul. But now Lord Tuesday had filed his Armageddon Paperwork.  He laughed loudly.  He'd made sure it would happen according to the most meticulous planning.  The world would end.  On a Tuesday.