The devil sits in the green room, casually munching on the veggie platter the show had supplied for him. A pretty young woman with a clipboard politely knocks on the door and sticks her head in the room. "Mr. Satan?" she politely asked.
"My father was into honorifics," the devil affably replies. "You can call me Satan."
"Yes, sir...uhh, Satan. They're ready for you."
The devil nods and pops a last carrot stick into his mouth before accompanying the young woman to the stage.
"From the right, I'm Tucker Carlson."
"From the left, I'm Michael Kinsley. Welcome to Crossfire."
"He's been called the king of lies and the prince of darkness -"
"What? Is Karl Rove a guest on tonight's show?"
"Ha ha. Bill Clinton, actually."
"Cheap shot."
"You started it."
"Ahem. Gentlemen?"
"Right. Tonight on Crossfire: Satan, or, less formally, the devil. Thank you for joining us."
"It's my pleasure, Tucker."
"You really expect us to believe you're the devil?"
"That is who I am."
"The devil of the Bible."
"That is correct."
"But, everybody knows that the devil isn't a real person. Satan is a personification of the evil that exists in the hearts of all people."
Satan makes an arcane gesture and a large, pus-filled boil appears on Michael Kinsley's forehead. The director quickly cuts to a two shot of Carlson and the devil, but Kinsley starts to scream. His microphone is immediately cut.
"I have been called many things in my time," the devil seriously intones, "but the one I absolutely will not abide is 'metaphor!'"
Carlson smirks, causing the devil to turn on him.
"Wipe that grin off your face, Mister Carlson," the devil commands. "I have a bone to pick with you and your ilk."
"Y...you do?" Carlson, instantly serious, asks.
"Why is it that whenever some human being does something especially hideous by your standards, you compare him to me?"
"I...I'm not sure I understand what you're asking."
"You compared Saddam Hussein to me?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"TO. ME?"
"Absolutely. He waged a war on Iran that ultimately cost both countries more than a million lives. He gassed his own people. He created torture chambers where he subjected thousands of his citizens to unspeakable horrors. Doesn't that qualify as Satanic?"
"Yes. In some ways, I'm proud of his work. Still, you can't go comparing every petty tyrant to me - it devalues my work."
"Petty tyrant? Didn't you hear the horrible things I just described?"
"You know, the thing I like least about you right wingers is that you just don't listen to what you don't want to hear. Did Saddam Hussein do terrible things by your standards? I guess so. But, what does that matter to me? I WAGED WAR ON HEAVEN! AT MY COMMAND AND FOR MY GLORY SQUADRONS OF ANGELS DIED! MY INTENTION WAS TO TAKE CONTROL OF THE UNIVERSE AWAY FROM GOD! Can we have a little perspective here, please?"
"Well, of course, I wasn't saying that Saddam Hussein was literally you."
"You weren't?"
"Absolutely not. I was using you as a metaphor for -"
Before Carlson can finish his sentence, the devil makes another arcane gesture. They happen very quickly, and none but the most learned on the subject of the dark arts would even be able to tell that they involved two very different spells. However, those few who did know would tremble.
Carlson starts to hack. His coughing becomes increasingly violent until a frog pops out of his mouth. Incredulous, he looks at the frog as it hops around the table in front of him. Then, he starts to hack again.
"Any more questions, gentlemen?" the devil asks. He knows better than to smirk, but his enjoyment is clear in his eyes. "I didn't think so." Thirty seconds after the show started, the devil takes the microphone off his designer lapel and walks off the stage. In a booth somewhere nearby, a director makes a frantic phone call.
Back in the green room, the devil takes some smoked salmon. The woman with the clipboard sticks her head in the door. "Uhh...Satan?"
"This is a really good spread," the devil responds. "You must tell me where you get it from."
"You really are the devil?"
"Who did you think you were booking?"
"I didn't really think - I mean, uhh, what's going to happen to them?"
"The spells will wear off eventually, and remain off as long as they stop doing this show. If I were you, I would consider finding myself some other employment. Would you consider working for me?"
"Oh. Ah. That's a very flattering offer, really it is, but I, uhh -"
"Hear me out. You know, I offer a tremendous benefits package, and I ask for so little in return..."