“As light is associated with shadow, as day is associated with night, so too are you associated with us, Lucifer,” Michael said. “Your actions are a dark mirror reflecting faint glimmerings of our holy doings, and we are beings who respect law and order. When you ignore your duty to the dead you are acting in a lawless manner, and that reflects poorly on our Creator. It will not be allowed.”
“You want me to go to court with these people?” Satan said in disbelief. “That’s not how things are done.”
“Silence!” Barachiel thundered. “How dare you tell us how things are done! We tell you how things are done!”
The archangels were all watching now. They loved a good fight. Metatron stroked his pretentious goatee, while Jegudiel took it all in without betraying his own thoughts. Raphael just looked nervous.
“I’m Satan,” Satan said. “I can’t take time off to go to court. What would happen to Hell?”
“It could hardly get worse,” Gabriel said.
“The Creator is fair,” Michael said. “Hard but fair. Most of the business of death is your responsibility and if humans are unhappy with it then they have a right to hold you accountable. Our Creator has agreed, however, that if you are not served the subpoena there is no need for you to appear in court. But if served, you must appear.”
“Oh,” Satan said, relaxing. “That’s not so bad. Americans are terrible at geography, there’s no way they can figure out how to get to Hell and serve me a subpoena.”
“There are going to be some changes, though,” Gabriel said.
“What do you mean?” Satan asked. Then he turned to Michael. “What does he mean?”
“It has come to our attention that Hell is in turmoil. It loses money through mismanagement and inefficiency. We here in Heaven are worried about the safety of the billions of souls in your care,” Michael said.
“So give me some money,” Satan said.
“We have lost confidence in your ability to operate Hell,” Michael said. “We will assume control of your sphere.”
“What?”
“We’re taking over Hell,” Barachiel said. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“You can’t do that,” Satan said.
“If we win the Ultimate Death Match this year, then we can,” Michael said.
“But only if you win.”
“Who’s wrestling for you this year?” Barachiel sneered. “I heard you’ve got some problems with your wrestler.”
“I’ll figure something out,” Satan said.
“It’s two weeks away,” Barachiel said. “Come on, you have to know who’s going to fight for you.”
“Deep Insecurity,” Satan said. The assembled angels tittered. “Don’t underestimate Deep Insecurity. He can destroy anyone. Just ask Richard Nixon.”
“Take it as a given then that we will prevail in the Ultimate Death Match,” Michael said.
“No, don’t take it as a given. No one prevails until the match actually takes place and someone has won or lost.”
“Lucifer, why must you always choose the more difficult road,” Michael sighed. “I appeal to your reason: there is no possibility of Hell winning the Ultimate Death Match this year. It is nothing more than a formality at this point. After you forfeit, we will be assuming control of Hell and making it a division of Heaven. So, in order to provide for a seamless handover, we would like to implement transitional changes now.”
“No,” Satan said.
“You are not being asked,” Michael said. “You are being told. Gabriel?”
“Thanks, M. Renovating Hell is a big job. We’ve had a planning committee wrestling with the issues for a few years and their answer: complete overhaul. First off, the look. If you don’t look good you don’t feel good and if you don’t feel good how can you do good work? Our answer? A uniform.”
“Like Catholic school,” Metatron said. “A uniform brings calmness to one’s mind and a sense of belonging to a cause greater than oneself. It instills loyalty and a sense of responsibility in all who wear it. A uniform is a sign of stability.”
Gabriel brought up a PowerPoint presentation on the screen. The first slide showed a uniform that looked like a bad cartoonist’s idea of the devil. It was a little red bodystocking with a red cape, a hood with tiny horns and a wee little pitchfork.
“They look good, they reinforce team spirit and they send a strong message,” Gabriel said. “They say, ‘I’m a little devil!’ I think we’ll get greater efficiency out of our team members if they feel like they’re on the same side. I’m excited about these.”
“We’ll be laughing stocks,” Satan said.
“Great change always brings great trepidation,” Michael said. “But it is time for Hell to evolve. Hell will become a place of healing.”
“Hell isn’t a place of healing. Hell is a place of eternal damnation!”
“You feel at sea with this, and we understand. That’s why Gabriel is descending into the underworld to start instituting the new policy. He’ll be working very closely with you.”
“What?”
“Don’t think of him as your boss, think of him as your partner who makes all the decisions,” Michael said.
“Absolutely not,” Satan said.
“Lucifer, be reasonable – ”
“No!!!” Satan slammed his palms down on the table and stood up. The archangels instinctively recoiled.
“I am Satan, Prince of the Underworld,” Satan said. “And until such a time as the Creator himself sees fit to remove me from my position, or until you bunch of sanctimonious halo-polishing brownnosers beat us at the Ultimate Death Match, I do not have to tolerate any incursions into my sphere. My affairs are my business, not yours.”
“We merely want to make the inevitable handover as smooth as possible,” Michael said.
“I’ve never done anything smoothly,” Satan said.
“Here we go again,” Barachiel said. “Blah, blah, blah.”
“There are a lot of other slides,” Gabriel said. “Don’t you think you should see them before you freak out?”
Sister Mary felt lighter now that she had unburdened herself to Saint Jude. He was a saint. He would tell her what to do
“I can understand you fear and confusion,” Saint Jude said.
“What do I do?” Sister Mary asked. “He’s lying to me, isn’t he? Heaven is a good place, right?”
“Sister,” Saint Jude said. “I cannot tell you what is true and what is false. That is for your heart to decide. But I can tell you one thing that is true: your soul is in great peril. Consider your choices carefully, for danger surrounds you on all sides.”
“Please, tell me what to do.”
“I cannot tell you what to do. That is not the duty of the saints. We provide guidance, a light by which you can navigate the stormy seas of life. We are lighthouses for the faithful, not road maps.”
“But you are a saint and I am only human. I’m not really going to Hell, am I?”
“It saddens me to say this, but yes, my child. You will burn in eternal hellfire.”
Sister Mary dissolved into tears. Her worst fears were confirmed. Her soul was damned.
“Is it for the atheism?” she asked. “It’s only a venial sin and I regret it so much. I can repent.”
“Sister,” Saint Jude said. “Heaven is not that callous. It is for the child you bear.”
“But that’s not my fault!”
“You must take responsibility for the actions of your body, whether you feel you deserve it or not. Only God knows what you do and don’t deserve.”
“But I don’t want to burn forever,” Mary sobbed.
“There is a way,” Saint Jude said.
“Prayer?”
“Listen closely, my child. You are correct that your sins are merely venial. But without a Purgatory to purify your soul they bind you like chains and trap you in Hell forever. However, an act of contrition might allow you to ascend to Heaven.”
“What
is it?” Sister Mary asked. “I’ll do anything to come to Heaven.”
“Listen carefully. You must find the one who has done you the most wrong in this life, the one who has most sinned against you, and you must forgive them. Your forgiveness must be pure, it must be true, it must be without qualification or reservation. And when you have done that your chains will fall away and you will ascend into Heaven to dwell in the presence of the Lord forever.”
“The one who has most sinned against me?” Sister Mary repeated.
“Do you know who I mean?” Saint Jude asked.
“I think I do.”
“You must be sure,” he said. “Look into your heart. Do you know who has most sinned against you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then find them and forgive them, my child,” he said. “This forgiveness is your key to the kingdom of Heaven.”
“You know how He feels about Creation,” Satan said. “He hates to interfere. He’ll never let you take over Hell before the Ultimate Death Match, not against my will.”
“Perhaps not,” Michael said. “But surely you see the wisdom of what we suggest.”
“No,” Satan said. “It’s the opposite of wisdom. It’s stupid.”
“In the coming days, Lucifer,” Metatron said. “We will try to understand the pain inside your heart that causes you to speak in a manner that is hurtful to both yourself and to others.”
“Shut up,” Satan said.
“So be it,” Michael replied. “You will remain the sole sovereign of Hell for the next eleven days, until the Ultimate Death Match takes place. And when you are defeated there, or when you forfeit, it will be a time of great sadness because you will have made the transition more difficult and traumatic than it need be, both for yourself and for the souls in your care. The Creator will not look kindly on your stubbornness.”
“I’ll write him an apology note,” Satan said.
“At least think about the uniforms,” Gabriel said.
“Get stuffed,” said Satan.
“Gabriel, escort the Fallen One and his lump of mortal clay to the elevators,” Michael commanded.
“Gladly, your eminence,” Gabriel said, bowing low to Michael.
“Hey,” Barachiel said as Satan stood up. “Lucifer? These other wing flappers may want everything to go smoothly but you know what? I hope you give us trouble. I hope you try to fight back. Because I’m a certified instructor in pain and suffering and I think it’s time you and me had a little one-on-one private tutoring session.”
He gave a smug, self-satisfied smirk and Satan tried desperately to think of a clever comeback. But he couldn’t. So he left.
He stopped to collect a distracted Sister Mary from the reception area and then Gabriel loaded she and Satan back onto the electric cart and they whizzed back to the lobby.
“Still sulking?” Gabriel asked Satan.
“You’ve been behind this all along, haven’t you?” Satan said. “It’s that ‘I’d rather be a king in Hell than serve in Heaven’ thing?”
“I’m merely a servant of The Creator’s will,” Gabriel said. “You’re the one who let things get embarrassing down there. You left us with no choice but to annex Hell.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“The only decision you can make is whether it’ll happen the hard way or the easy way.”
“Hard way,” Satan said.
“I know you’re all into fighting the Creator’s will and rebelling and not going along with the plan, but you need to grow up. You may be as ageless as the rest of us but you’ve got the emotional maturity of a hyperactive four-year-old. He’s turned a blind eye to the mess you’ve made, but no more. Fires going out? Death going missing? Dead people backed up on Earth waiting to die? You haven’t designed a new torment in almost two thousand years.”
“I keep trying,” Satan said. “But I have to take care of every single thing every single minute of every single day and so I don’t have a lot of time to lie on my back in a meadow and stare up at the clouds and dream up new torments. Some of us don’t have a bunch of assistants and slave labor to make it all go easy.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Gabriel said. “Why don’t you go on vacation and let me take over early? It’ll earn you some goodwill up here.”
The electric cart purred to a stop in the lobby. Satan stalked over to the elevators but somehow, no matter how quickly he walked, Gabriel was always a step ahead of him. Sister Mary shuffled along glumly in their wake.
“You don’t have a wing to flap with,” Satan said. “You’ve had me running in circles but you haven’t won the Ultimate Death Match yet. And if you don’t, all your plans go up in smoke.”
Gabriel pushed the call button.
“Who’s going to wrestle for you? Her.”
He indicated Mary Renfro who was lost in her own world.
“Oh, we’ve got someone,” Satan said. “I think you’ll be surprised. I’m the Prince of Lies – a secret wrestler would be just my style.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Maybe. But what if I’m not? Besides, you’ve left a chink in your plan and when you’re dealing with me a chink is all I need.”
“What chink?”
“If they don’t serve me the subpoena, I don’t go to court. And if I don’t go to court how am I embarrassing Heaven? And if I’m not embarrassing Heaven, then why would you need to take over Hell?”
The elevator doors dinged open. A heavy-set black woman stepped out. In her hand was a clipboard. She looked at it and then looked at Satan.
“I’ve got a winning lottery ticket here for one Mr. Satan. Do you have any ID?”
Satan smirked at Gabriel.
“Looks like my luck is turning around.”
He turned back to the woman.
“I don’t carry ID.”
“But are you Lucifer, Father of Lies, also known as Satan, Beelzebub, the Horned Goat, Lord of Darkness, God of the Pit, Leviathan, Pluto, Azmodeus, Servant of Evil, the Fallen Angel, and Baphomet?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Then consider yourself served,” she said and with a flourish she handed Satan a subpoena. “Sign here, and here’s your receipt.”
She got back on the elevator and the doors rolled shut. Satan stared at the subpoena in his hand.
“Oh, tough luck,” Gabriel said. “I wonder how that happened? Have a nice ride.”
He herded the stunned Satan and the distracted Sister Mary into another elevator, then he lowered his voice and pointed at Mary behind his hand.
“And by the way,” he stage whispered. “You really need to kill her before you really piss everyone off. Buh-bye.”
The last thing they saw as the doors closed was Gabriel waggling his fingers at them and giving a great, big corn-eating grin.
The ride back down to Earth was as long and boring as the ride up and, despite the hatred Sister Mary felt for Satan, boredom has a way of breaking down barriers. After a while, she had to ask:
“What’s that for?”
She was pointing at the subpoena.
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing to me.”
“It’s stupid, okay? It’s that woman suing me because she says that I had sex with her when she was in one of those dumb Me Worshipping cults.”
“Satan worshipping? She was one of your minions?”
“I don’t have minions and I try to have as little to do with those cults as I can. Have you seen the kind of people who join up?”
“But did you have sex with her?”
“It was the Eighties. Everyone was on coke. She probably went to an Ozzy Osbourne show or something and got confused.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Satan had had enough.
“I’m disgusting? Is that the best you can do? Really? According to you, I’m the Antichrist, the guy who gave birth to Hitler, designed the nuclear missile, invented serial killers, started all those earthquake
s in China, caused 9/11 and made the Middle East volatile. Cancer is all my fault, alcoholism is my favorite party trick and I’m the source of all your problems, and the best you can come up with is that I’m disgusting? You can do better than that. Come on. I’m waiting. Let me have it.”
Sister Mary loathed the Devil with every atom of her being, but right now they were in an elevator together and he looked human and it was hard to keep her rage stoked to a roaring blaze.
“Are you really going to kill me?” she asked.
“No,” Satan said. “I don’t think so. I’m outgunned here and I need every advantage I can get. So if everyone in Heaven wants you dead, then it’s in my best interests to keep you alive. At least until the Ultimate Death Match.”
“Is that something important?”
“It didn’t used to be,” Satan said. “Every century, Heaven, Hell and Purgatory had a company get-together. Fair rides, petting zoos, cotton candy, and an informal wrestling match: Heaven versus Hell, winner takes on Purgatory. Whoever lost had to sit in the dunking booth. Everyone used to be a really good sport about it but then, about two thousand years ago, Heaven got really competitive. Maybe it was the Nazarene going to Earth, or that whole Bible smear job that came out. No one really knows. But the stakes got higher. No more petting zoo. No more pony rides. Just wrestling. And Purgatory hasn’t been allowed to enter the ring in ages. Now it’s just a Heaven vs. Hell smackdown and if they win they get Hell. If we win, we keep it.”
“So if you lose, they get everything and if you win everything stays the same?” asked Sister Mary.
“No one said it was fair, but who’m I going to complain to?”
“Have you ever lost?”
“Not once. War usually wrestled tag team with Death, and if professional wrestling was ballet they were dancing Swan Lake. The archangels always considered it beneath them to get in the ring and most angels are giant wimps anyways. They talk tough but take away their swords of fire and give them a Mongolian Chop and they fold like a rental chair.”
“Who’s wrestling for Heaven this time.”
“Michael. He’s never done it before.”
“And you’ve got a secret wrestler?”
Satan Loves You Page 10