by mellowin man
Satan was sitting directly across from me, sitting atop
a large wicker basket, and eyeing me contemptuously. I was
so sick of this guy. "I never see you at the bars anymore,
Johnny," his voice slithered across the floor.
"Shut up, you miserable demon, you know that's not my name,"
I neatly spit several feet.
"Miserable demon?" his face puckered, then released, "I'll
give you a miserable demon, you mortal scum!"
"You don't scare me anymore, Beelzebub," I laughed, "there
are far more frightening things than you."
He puffed himself up to the ceiling, his shoulders growing
eight and a half feet wide.
"Scarier than LUCIFER?" he roared, shaking the walls of the
"Yes," I replied, somewhat meekly, but with steadfast resolve.
"WHAT, PRAY TELL, COULD POSSIBLY BE MORE HORRIFYING THAN
I?" he screamed, the vein on his forehead pulsing rapidly.
"Well, first of all, there's John Ashcroft plundering the
Constitution, and using wartime as an excuse to eliminate
certain Civil Rights, for example the very right to due process
that makes America free in the first place..."
The Devil looked concerned.
"Can he do that?" Satan was obviously impressed.
"Well, he has," I answered, wishing it weren't true.
"Positively devious," Satan mused. "I should like to get
to know this Mr. Ashcroft better."
"I figured he was one of yours!" I said confidently.
"No, not yet, not yet..." Satan's voice trailed off into
He murmured unintelligibly, and all I caught was "shows much
He turned, suddenly, and stared into my eyes.
"OK, I'll give you that one, but you said there were many
things! What else is more frightening than the Dark Lord?"
and then he added, "You foolish mortal!"
"Congress using the terrorist attacks to push for more tax
breaks for the super rich?"
He nodded, blankly. I sensed the Prince of Darkness was getting
a little queasy.
"Bush sealing Presidential records forever, and Ari Fleischer
saying it's to make them more accessible?"
"Very Orwellian," the Devil remarked, realizing too late
just how cliched that was. He snapped his fingers in disgust,
and fire shot out from them.
"TV talking heads saying it's all perfectly sensible, and
you're unpatriotic if you don't go along with it?"
He was clutching his stomach just a little, and I pretended
not to notice. I was almost ready for the kill.
"The American People buying it all?" I almost stuttered,
as Satan had turned pale, which is really something to see,
I leaned in real close, his fiery breath very nearly burning
my eyebrows off.
"How about," I said slowly, and carefully, "the premise that
the current people in power stole an election, so that they
could get more money for themselves, and their friends in
big oil, while also protecting themselves and their cronies,
thus preserving the legacy of Reagan/Bush forever, even going
so far as to use the war on terrorism as an excuse to set
the whole thing up?"
Satan was quiet, and looked a little frightened, for the
first time since I'd known him.
"And what if I told you, just hypothetically," I paused for
dramatic effect, "that the very people who are wiping out
the Taliban were associated with people who had recently given
those same Taliban VIP treatment on their Texas ranches?"
"Stop it, stop it," the devil cried, "you're going too fast
for even Mephisto!"
He wiped the hot lava sweat from his brow, and grimaced,
baring his sick, disgusting fangs.
"How could all this be happening in America?" he asked, puzzled.
"If these types of things were going on, the press would be
all over it, the lousy do-gooders."
"Say, you have been out of touch for awhile, haven't you,"
"What"s that supposed to mean?" he looked hurt. He looked
off into the distance for a moment, and said, "Screw it, I
got things to do."
"What kinds of things?" I asked, worried just a little.
"It sounds like I'm needed in Washington. Looks like we might
have another Third Reich!"
"Oh man," I grumbled, "you'd think the Lord Master of Hell
would be a bit more original than that!"
He flipped me the bird, and replied, "I calls 'em like I
sees 'em," and made a half hearted attempt at a comical Nazi
salute. He stuck out his slimy, forked tongue, saluting me
with a Hellish raspberry, and disappeared in a cloud of acrid
smoke, as he tends to do.
I figured it would be quite some time before he bothered