by FREDERICA VON McTOAST-HYPHEN, Alternate Reality News Service People Writer
Satan looked resplendent in his Armani suit and mirror shades. One didn't have to be a trained exorcist to see, though, that his rough red features were troubled.
"No, I'm sorry, this is not working for me," he told his mark, a suburban housewife he was in the process of seducing.
"Don't...don't you find me attractive?" asked Name Withheld By Request.
"It's not you, it's me," Satan lamely said.
Name Withheld By Request threw her drink in his face and stormed away from the table in the chic restaurant.
"I always deserve that," Satan commented, as much to himself as to anybody around him. "Yet, you would be surprised how infrequently it happens."
Satan. Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Devil. The Prince of Lies. The Prince of Flies. The Prince of Darkness. Stan. Over drinks at Lilith, a trendy wine bar, the personification of evil told me he hasn't gotten any job satisfaction in decades.
"There are no challenges any more," The Devil confided. "The Dark Ages? When everybody had the fear of God in them? That was when harvesting souls was great sport. But, now -"
Satan was interrupted by a boy in a Black Sabbath t-shirt with a mop of unruly hair and a stud in one ear. "Are you...? You are, aren't you? Oh, man, I'm your biggest fan!" the boy enthused. "Can I have your autograph?" Satan graciously signed a napkin in blood and handed it to the boy. Then, he gently nodded towards the waiter, and a couple of staff members respectfully escorted the boy out of the establishment.
"There was a time when only the most crazed, hardened old men worshipped me," Satan sighed. "Now, any 15 year-old who has heard an Ozzy Osbourne song thinks we're friends. It's pathetic, really."
Although he condemned the usual suspects - secularization, abortion, the Internet (started as a lark, he had abandoned his Facebook page in disgust after he got his millionth friend) - Satan saved his harshest condemnation for evangelical Christians who preached a gospel of selfishness, greed and power.
"The meek shall inherit the earth? Hello? Ring any bells?" Satan groused. I would have thought it was the alcohol talking, but he assured me that it had no effect on him, that he just drank to be sociable. "Camel through the eye of a needle? Have you even read the New Testament? When religious leaders are taking millions of their followers down the wrong path, what is there left for me to do?"
Satan noticed a couple of girls outside the window giggling and pointing at him. He said he knew what they wanted of him, and they weren't going to get it.
"Just because I have horns," Satan sourly observed, "does not mean I'm horny."
Politicians. Rock stars. Darter snail researchers. Satan ticked off a list of professions that at one time may have posed some kind of challenge to his ability to corrupt the innocent. Then, he explained why they have already become corrupt. "Nobody is innocent any more," he observed.
I asked The Devil if, perhaps, he wasn't being too pessimistic. He started to say something about negativity being one of his greatest weapons, then suddenly stopped and looked at me piercingly. I know it's a cliché, but it was like he was looking into my very soul.
Satan asked me what I wanted out of life. I demurred; I had heard stories about how slippery he could be, and I thought it for the best to keep our relationship purely professional.
"A smart, talented woman like you? Surely, you don't plan on being a...‘people writer' for the rest of your life." The way he said my current beat, I could picture myself with grey hair, using a walker to get to my next interview, a narcissistic rock star who can't get my name right and throws up in my lap halfway through. Then, I go home to my 37 cats.
Satan must have taken encouragement from my shudder, for he lowered his voice and asked, "How would you like to be the Editrix-in-Chief of the Alternate Reality News Service?" He positively purred.
"You...you can do that?" I asked, enthralled.
Satan smiled Mona Lisaly. "I could make a few calls," he said. I licked my lips with eager sensuality. I was about to say, "Yes! Yes! Make those calls, big boy!" when Satan waved his hand.
"You see how easy it is?" he said, shaking his head. When I realized what had happened, I felt nauseous, not that Satan noticed. I began to understand where his negative reputation had come from.
"If this is winning," Satan stated darkly, "I fear eternity is going to be quite boring."