A Fashionably Dead Diary

by Robyn Peterman

  Dear Shelia,

  It was a dark and stormy night…

  Today was… well it was as insane as the rest of them have been.

  “What’s it like to live forever?” I asked Satan as he perused the stack of boxes from Office Depot with great joy. He’d pilfered so many of Ethan’s supplies I’d had to do a huge online shop to replace them. Stupidly, I’d had the boxes delivered to the office. The excited gleam in Satan’s eyes didn’t bode well for me having much stock left by the end of the day.

  Whatever. I had a free evening. I could order more. It was just stuff and Satan’s glee reminded me of a little boy on Christmas morning. At least it wasn’t the ten boxes of ceramic baby Jesuses I’d ordered. There was no telling what he would have done to them.

  “Why would you ask such a question?” Satan inquired as he tore open the largest of the boxes.

  “Because you’ve lived forever and I’m going to,” I replied and watched him shudder with delight when he discovered the box was filled with mechanical pencils and Post-it notes.

  After a blatant and obnoxious display of loading his Hermès Porosus Crocodile Birkin 40 briefcase with stolen goods, Satan leaned on the edge of Ethan’s desk and observed me with interest.

  “My briefcase cost over 45,000 dollars and I couldn’t care less about that fact. I’m more amused by an illegally gained fifty dollars’ worth of pencils and paper,” he replied.

  “Your point?” I asked, not following how this might be an answer to my question.

  “My point, my dear nosy niece, is that everything ceases to mean anything after excruciatingly long periods of time.”

  “That’s depressing and I don’t believe it,” I told him.

  “Your choice,” he said flatly. “Time is the only thing that marches on indefinitely. There is no stopping it and no going backward. Food loses its taste, people are exchangeable and beauty becomes mundane. Even sex loses its pleasure. But I don’t want to speak of this, it bores me and when I get bored I like to blow up couches.”

  “Why did you share it with me then?” I asked as I dove in front of my beloved couch hoping he’d spare it. Of course if he didn’t, I’d have to singe three hundred holes in his custom suit and then all Hell would break loose. He’d have a hissy fit and there was a good chance I’d have to get the Cressida House rebuilt.

  That would suck. I quickly stacked a bunch of the boxes of office supplies on the couch. He’d never incinerate stuff he wanted to steal.

  Satan paused for a few moments then grinned and shrugged. “I shared because you asked and because I plan to steal most of the contents in the boxes today. I thought it equitable to exchange some half truths for staplers and paper clips.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at his fucked up candor, but I wondered which of his statements were true and which were lies. Was living forever a gift or a curse? Would I really cease to feel pleasure at some point?

  “Half truths?” I questioned.

  “Actually, no truths at all,” he replied as he tucked about fifteen neon yellow highlighters into his breast pocket. “Sex is still outstanding especially when you’re as good at it as I am. Beauty is always in the eye of the beholder so that one is a choice.”

  “People?” I pressed for more.

  “People are a necessary evil—humans, I mean. However, they fascinate me. I need them and they adore me—everyone does.”

  I rolled my eyes and then got to the most important question. “Food?”

  “Do you really want the answer to that?” Satan asked, giving me a skeptical look. “I don’t want you going all stabby on me.”

  “It’s still good?” I choked out trying hard not to feel stabby.

  “Fabulous,” Uncle Fucker confirmed.

  I failed at the stabby thing. My fingers lit up like fireworks and Satan quickly moved behind the boxes. His suit was now off limits since I’d start a massive inferno if I tried to blast him behind the cardboard. I went for the end table instead. I didn’t like it much anyway.

  “Feel better?” Satan inquired, cautiously stepping out from behind the boxes.

  “Much. However, you forgot something,” I told him.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Love.”

  “This love you speak of is for fools and dreamers. I’m neither of those,” he replied easily.

  “You’re missing out,” I told him.

  “You’re thirty,” Satan informed me with an eye roll. “I’m not sure how old I am anymore—stopped counting millions of years ago. You come talk to me ten thousand years from now about love and we’ll see if you haven’t changed your optimistic mind.”

  “I won’t,” I replied with confidence.

  “Why?” he countered, tossing a stapler in the air and then pocketing it. “Why do you think you’re different, Astrid? Because, trust me… you’re not.”

  “I am,” I disagreed with the Devil. “I have something you don’t.”

  Satan’s laugh bounced through the room and he squealed like a girl when he discovered a calculator and hole punch.

  “The only thing you have at the moment that I don’t is a beautiful array of office supplies. I will have this delectable booty in the next hour, so I have no clue what you speak of, Vampyre.”

  “A mate, Devil. I have someone to love with everything I am.”

  The Devil shook his head and gave me a pitying glance. “That too shall pass, child. Nothing lasts forever except the fucked up concept of linear time. You will see.”

  “If I truly believed that, I’d end myself now,” I told him.

  “Nice try, but you can’t,” he said breezily. “You’re a True Immortal, as am I. Our deaths have far reaching consequences for all of mankind. Would you really choose your own pathetic happiness over that of the Universe’s existence?”

  Well, he certainly had me there. I would never choose myself over mankind. I wouldn’t choose myself over my family either. I would always put others first. Always.

  But wait… wasn’t that what Satan was doing as well? The Devil was such a lying sack of shit—but what did I expect? He was the Devil after all…

  If he wanted to, he could just stay away from all of this. He could quit his job and let chaos take over. If he was so sick and tired of living forever, he could seclude himself in his tacky Dark Palace and never come out—just let the world go to Hell in a hand basket. Literally.

  But instead he was here… blackmailing me into writing his autobiography slash romance. Stealing pencils and playing with my son—well, a loose definition of playing if you consider giving a child nightmares playing…

  He stalks Steve Perry. He hosted my wedding in Hell. The Harbinger of Evil loves my cousin, his daughter Dixie, and tolerates his others, the Seven Deadly Sins. He’s spared the lives of many lesser evil beings and only truly punishes the unredeemable.

  The Devil visits his batshit crazy mother every couple of decades and spends time with his father on a regular basis. He helped us chase down the evil Vampyre, Vlad, and had a wonderful time ruining Samuel’s first Christmas. He loves me too, but would never admit it. Ever.

  And I love him. I love the good and the bad parts of the Dark Fallen Angel. I will never agree with his methods, but there was no good without evil. Balance of the two maintained the status quo that let time march on. Satan was a necessary evil—for lack of a better word.

  But the loneliness he would never admit to broke my undead heart.

  I wouldn’t dare tell him of any of this. It would not end well. I would most certainly lose office furniture and he hadn’t blown up my beloved couch yet. I’d simply keep my very accurate observations to myself.

  Well, most of them.

  “You need to find real love. You know… with someone who likes to lie and blow shit up” I said and quickly held my hand up so he couldn’t interrupt. “Life—even a short human life—is empty without love. An immortal life is really motherhumpin’ sad without someone to watch Showgirls with.”
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  “Blah, blah blah,” Satan said, admiring his stack of stolen goods. “Are we done with the soul searching? I don’t have one so this is an exercise in tedium for me.”

  “We’re done,” I replied, tearing open a few more boxes for him to pilfer from.

  “Son of a bitch,” Satan shouted as he read a text on his phone. “Those imbeciles put a recording of the fucking Spice Girls in my Steve Perry monument. I hate the Spice girls—I mean I’d bed them, but I simply can’t listen to them. Unacceptable. Heads are going to roll.”

  He stomped around the room throwing offices supplies everywhere.

  “Astrid, could you move about three feet to the right?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, holding my ground in front of my couch.

  “You do realize I could move you with a wave of my hand,” he pointed out. “I was simply being polite.”

  “You’re not good at polite,” I told him. “Rude fits you better. And if you even look at my couch, I will shrink your underpants to a child’s size extra small.”

  “Touché,” he replied with a laugh. “I’m not wearing any.”

  On that repulsive note, he waved his pinky finger, levitated me and blew up the couch. With a naughty grin, he bowed and left in a blast of magical black smoke and glitter. He didn’t even remember to take his booty-laden, outrageously expensive briefcase with him.

  Shitballs on fire, that assmonkey was going to pay. Quickly calling Mother Nature, I cut a deal that ensured the three hundred foot statue of Steve Perry would play the same heinous elevator music that played in Purgatory. Permanently. Mother Nature had no real clue what I was babbling about, but promised to make my wish come true. Of course I had to agree to a month of pole dancing classes with her, but it would be totally worth it.

  My couch was toast, Satan would be furious and I was going to hump a pole with my grandmother. All was good in my world. But most importantly, I knew how the book would end.

  I was going to give my uncle love. Real love, whether he wanted it or not. And you know what? I think he does secretly want it.

  So Shelia, there it is.

  I want Uncle Fucker to have what I have—well, not exactly. That wouldn’t work. But he should have someone—someone just as rude and appalling as he is so he can have a happily Hellish ever after.

  I need to write now. This is going to take a while because I have to use my own brain instead of just jotting down the horrifying escapades of the Devil. I want Satan to ride off on a white, or possibly black, stallion named Ken… or Jarvis.

  Tonight I’ll leave you next to a bunch of other books just in case you get lonely when I’m not here. As a little girl, I used to make sure all my stuffed animals were sitting together when I had to leave them to go to school. I also used to cover them with paper towels so they wouldn’t get cold in the winter. Pissed my evil mother off like nobody’s business, but everything pissed that freakin’ woman off.

  I’m sad this is our second to last night together. I’ll miss you and I’m going to miss my time with Uncle Fucker even as destructive and as horrifying as it’s been. However, it’s probably good I won’t see him for a bit. I’m quite sure the elevator music isn’t going to go over well.

  Tough shit. I loved that damned couch.

  Have a good sleep. I’ll leave you next to my copy of A Wrinkle in Time. It’s one of my favorites. I’m going to read it to Samuel soon.

  xoxo Astrid

  Friday

  Oh. My. Hell.

  Dear Shelia,

  It was a dark and stormy night…

  Here it is, Shelia—the end of the book. I have no clue if Satan will ever read it. Part of me hopes he does and part of me hopes he doesn’t.

  The first part of the ending of the story is the truth of how a fallen Angel came to be the Lord of Darkness. It’s from Satan’s own lips. A note was delivered to me by a buzzard late last night. That almost ended up culminating in a bloody clusterfuck. No one was quite sure why an enormous buzzard was flying through the mansion during our sacred Finding Bigfoot TV time. Ethan was ready to behead the ugly thing when our son, Samuel, stopped him. The buzzard dropped the note in my lap along with some truly nasty buzzard poop and then cuddled with our son for a brief moment.

  I suspected the buzzard was Satan in disguise. However, I was truly convinced that it had been Uncle Fucker when I went back to the office and realized all the office supplies were gone. He’d clearly come back for his ill-gotten booty.

  Honestly, I was glad he was in buzzard form. I figured getting pooped on was retribution for the elevator music. If he’d been in human form, I could have lost all the furniture in the Cressida House.

  So Shelia, I’ve used the note verbatim in the ending of the book. It’s mesmerizing. Unfortunately it was also covered in buzzard poop. Again, I was sad I couldn’t hurl, but whatever.

  The fictional part is at the end… from my own warped mind and loving heart. Truth is always stranger than fiction, but it would be all kinds of awesome if my fictitious wishes for my uncle were to come true.

  You feel me, Shelia?

  The sun rises. The sun sets. And the Earth still spins in shock on its tilted axis in reaction to the day that darkness was forever catapulted from the Heavens.

  The battle was epic and the craters left behind eventually became the oceans. In its sheer violence, the bloody clash created mind-boggling mountain ranges and lush vistas that would eventually leave man breathless with awe. Beauty created in fury and rage is still beauty.

  Or is it…

  In the beginning there were two Angels bound by blood. One was created to lord over the light and one the dark. However, Fate had a devastatingly destructive sense of humor and had not made the destiny of these divine beings clear.

  The irony of this injustice was not lost on the angelic brothers, but they were connected by a love so great no one believed their fierce loyalty could be severed.

  They were wrong—very wrong. For only one was meant for goodness and light.

  One brother eventually emerged as the victor. He would be revered and adored. Always.

  The other would fall from grace in a spectacular tumble from the Heavens that tore a rift between the brothers for eternity.

  So one Angel came to rule the light. He was good, kind, and righteous. This Angel had wings of gold and was beloved by all.

  The other lived in the darkness. His wings were as coal black as his soul and he was feared by every living creature. This particular Angel was thought of as evil personified. However, to know true evil, one must have first experienced grace…

  Lucifer had known grace. Lucifer knew evil. But most of all, Lucifer knew how to have an outstanding time doing outrageously bad things.

  Fate was a bitch, but she usually got it right.

  So Shelia… that was the truth. Here’s the fiction. Or maybe it will become the truth. One can only hope. I’m gonna be hoping like Hell.

  Then one glorious day amongst the many that faded into each other with their never ending monotony, something rare and beautiful happened to the Angel of Darkness.

  He fought it with everything he had because he didn’t believe he deserved it. However, Fate knew differently.

  The Angel of Darkness was certain he had no soul and that his heart was dead… but he was wrong. He was very wrong indeed. Every heart and every soul has a perfect match somewhere and he was about to meet his.

  The woman was as fair as he was dark. She was equal in physical beauty and could lie, cheat and steal with a panache that made the Devil seem like an amateur. Their meeting would be fiery and this fire would also be their salvation. Her love for him would surpass reason and rhyme and she would trade her existence for his in a heartbeat—as he would for her.

  Both of the lovers bore scars from lives filled with violence, pain and sin, but both had tried to change their ways. Fate seemed to have waited until the Dark Angel and the woman were ready for each other.

  The journey would not
be an easy one for these very naughty star crossed lovers—but nothing worthwhile was ever simple or neat—or in their case, filled with fire and passion.

  They would come together and be torn apart many times in this immortal lifetime, but they would always find their way back to each other because two wrongs can make a very good right.

  Time, for the Dark Angel, was now something to look forward to, not something to simply pass.

  Good things can happen to very bad people—especially when the bad people involved aren’t quite as evil as they’ve lead the world to believe.

  So in the end, there is a happily ever after for even the most unexpected. It makes life worth living and makes one who has all the time in the world wish for more. Because being with the one who was meant for you is the most magical gift one can receive.

  Pretty sure they didn’t ride off together on a black stallion named Buzzard Poop or Scary Spice or Carlos. However, I’d lay money down that they probably drove into the sunset in a cherry red Ferrari LaFerrari Aperta and lived happily, yet illegally, ever after.

  So there you have it, Shelia.

  I gave Satan his own, slightly left of center, happily ever after. Take good care of yourself. I should probably burn you so no one ever finds you, but I can’t bring myself to do that. You mean a lot to me. Helping me get through this last month couldn’t have been an easy job even for a book.

  Thank you. Instead of burning you, I’ll hide you in my closet. No one goes in there. I’d have their ass in a sling if they did.

  I’ll leave you with a blanket and a tiny pillow and I’ll let you keep my copy of A Wrinkle in Time. I can get a new one for Samuel.

  Till we meet again and if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll kill you.

  xoxo Astrid

  Epilogue

  Dear Astrid,

  It was a dark and stormy night…

  I hope you’re seated. And before you get your designer panties in a wad, just know that I will never betray your confidence. However, all bets are off if you try to kill me.