Archive for December, 2014

10 Minutes With Satan

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on December 27, 2014 by ofherbsandaltars

In this issue of Z Magazine, we bring you the interview you’ve been waiting for since the dawn of humanity. Breaking his multi-millennia silence, Satan himself has granted us an exclusive, and rather surprising interview. The entrance hall to the Hell Penthouse was much as I’d expected it to be – rough red walls adorned with vicious gleaming spikes, here and there a tattered, shrivelled scrap of crispy human flesh. There were several slick leather couches that I was warned not to sit on, as they were glossed daily with neurotoxins milked from the most painful jellyfish in the world. Stuffed goats everywhere, some of which were fitted with human eyeballs that eerily moved, and open fires stood against every wall, the frequent crackle and pop from within of burning human teeth. The aroma was of brimstone and singed hair, and I began to fear what I would find deeper into the demon’s lair.

As I walked through his house of horrors, and into Satan’s inner sanctum, I was surprised to find a complete change of décor – in here it was light and airy; white walls, white carpet, white everything. Even more surprisingly, Satan was dressed in a sky-blue sarong and a white silk shirt, and his tipple of choice turned out to be crème de menthe. When I mentioned the surprising aura of calm in this room, his reply was that,

“When you’ve lived in Disneyland for thousands of years, you get a bit sick of Mickey Mouse. You know what I mean?”

ZM – “You’re getting tired of being evil?”

“No…” Satan replies, at length. “But that’s not all I am – no one is. No one is all about the evil, all the time. The most evil men on Earth still love their mum, or their cat, or something…”

ZM – “What’s the most evil thing you’ve ever done?”

Satan seems amused by this question, and after sipping his crème de menthe, he replies,

“What is evil, really? All the acts I undertake, as the boss of this place, are acts of retribution – righting the wrongs of the world. Punishing the sinners. You could call me karma, and karma isn’t evil, is it?”

ZM – “Then…how would you, personally, define evil?”

“God,” Satan replies, smiling slightly. “God is evil. Everything that goes on down here – out in the Disneyland part at least – is on his say so. He’s massacred whole villages just because he lost a game of cards and it pissed him off. God has terrible impulse control, if you hadn’t already noticed. And of course, he’s the one who made you people – humans. Made you all in his own image, which is the image of an egotistical, selfish, power-crazed lunatic, so it’s no wonder you all are the way you are. And then of course he can’t cope with staring at his own reflection in every major fuckup of humanity, so he creates this place and makes me the scapegoat for every dogshit on the pavement of life. But I don’t mind. I don’t mind being the “bad guy”” – he shapes these words with sarcastic speechmark fingers – “it gets me this place, and I know the truth. Plus I get all the cool ones, down here.”

ZM – “The cool ones?”

Satan nods. “I’ve got Elvis, among others – he’s a good buddy.”

ZM – “Can I ask what Elvis went to hell for, or is that just between you and him?”

“Well, I bent the rules a little, on Elvis’s account, but God didn’t want him anyway. Basically, I took Elvis for dying too early, and messing everything up. Caused a lot of unhappiness, Elvis dying the way he did, so he came here, to hell.”

ZM – “Elvis went to hell for dying? Isn’t that a bit unfair?”

“Ah, it is what it is. Elvis doesn’t mind.”

ZM – “Then he’s not burning for all eternity?”

Satan snorts with laughter, draining his glass and getting himself a refill, before he tells me,

“The burning for all eternity schtick is just the advertising campaign. Realistically, we can’t afford the gas bill to keep that up in the longrun – thousands of burning people, ad infinum? Not realistic, not in this economy. Realistically speaking, it’s more like an occasional singed finger, stubbed toe once a week, that kind of thing. We’ve had to be creative with affordable punishments for the really bad ones, so we go with things like hair stuck in throat for five years, perpetual loss of the remote control, lagging wifi – that sort of stuff. But Elvis doesn’t get any of that – like I said, he’s a buddy of mine.”

ZM – “Hell sounds a lot less extreme than most people would imagine…”

This sentence is met with another amused snort from Satan, who replies dryly,

“You people get all your info on this place from God, or his little minions, who are just as twisted as he is. Don’t pity the ones who end up in hell – they’re down here with me, and I’m a reasonable guy. Pity the ones who end up in heaven, subject to the whims of a madman for all eternity. Admittedly I haven’t been up there in about a century, but it’s not what you’d call progressive – pretty damn backwards compared to this place. Ain’t no crème de menthe in heaven, I’ll tell you that much…”

ZM – “Aren’t you afraid of the repercussions for humanity, of revealing this information? Isn’t it better that people are scared of going to hell?”

“Aren’t you beyond that, as a species?” Satan asks, rhetorically. “I thought you’d moved onto being decent for decency’s sake, learning empathy for your fellow man, instead of stomping round the world wanting to murder everyone but being too scared of my fiery pitchfork. Surely humanity’s left that stage of pathetic infancy by now – we’re all adults here, aren’t we?”

ZM – “So…on the sins that matter, is pre-marital sex still a punishable offence, despite the looser morals on Earth?”

Satan smiles. “Even God, in the depths of his insanity, has finally loosened up on that one. But I’ll tell you why, and it’s not out of love for his creations, that’s for damned sure. Since the 1960’s, the floodgates down here were thrown wide open – I had absolute stampedes coming in, and things got pretty wild, in a really good way. But then God got jealous. Down here, I was the party king, and we were having a riot, but up there, he had nothing. No one was going to heaven at all, which meant no one to worship him, no one to flatter his pompous ass, and it pissed him off big time. So, eventually he loosened up on the sex. Which…I’m loathe to admit, was a pretty clever move by the old guy. Got everyone back on side – look how progressive I am, look how forgiving and loving I am, saving you all despite your sins from the eternal fires of damnation. And none of those poor schmucks up there realise that hell is the true promised land. If you liked getting your end away up on Earth, you’ll be fucking sorry you missed out on this place…”

ZM – “Are there any other interesting stories you could tell us about God?”

“Do you ever think about defecation?” Satan asks. “Probably not – most of you humans don’t like to dwell on it, and who can blame you. But there’s a lot of interesting things I could tell you about defecation. I don’t shit. The angels don’t shit, the demons don’t shit, except for their own entertainment, and God most certainly doesn’t shit. So why do humans shit, if they’re made in his image? I’ll tell you why – God made humans shit to keep them in their place. The minute they start getting all high and mighty, getting some lofty ideas about being a Godly sort of creature, they have to hurry off to the outhouse and squeeze a reeking turd out of their own arsehole, and that kind of thing kills off all those lofty ideas in three seconds flat. You can’t forget your own stinking mortality when there are always horrible smells erupting out of your backside. But the minute people get up to heaven, there’s no more shitting – not another shit for the rest of your life, once you get to heaven. Because God can’t stand the smell of farts. What a complete hypocrite…”

ZM – “Well, on that pleasant note, our ten minutes is up. Thanks for having us, Satan!”

“No problem,” Satan replies, draining his glass. “Hope to see you back here in about forty years. Hell’s the place to be – don’t be afraid to think sinful thoughts, and I’ll pull some strings for you.”

With Satan’s promise to sign me up for eternal damnation ringing in my ears, I made my way out of the white rooms and through the fiery corridors, towards home.

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