Makes him a tad questionable when it comes to equal treatment of all that come before him, but it made me wonder what exactly Satan’s plan currently is. I tried to contact judge-to-be Mateer for his opinion, but he wouldn’t return my calls, so I decided to go to the source. I drew a pentangle on the floor of my office with charcoal (the self-lighting kind I always use). My information was that I had to place a burning candle at each point (easy) and then drop a small pinch of dried bat stool into the flame of each one (disgusting).
But when the recipe said to mist the blood of an unbaptized boy over the whole shebang, I discovered I was fresh out. Satan declined to make an in-person appearance on account of this missing crucial ingredient, but he graciously allowed me to Skype with him.
Even on my cell phone, the Prince of Darkness looked weary. “Plan?” he asked blankly. “What makes you think I have a plan?”
Well, the transgendered children, according to Judge Mateer.
“Yeah, but no. I’ve got my hands full down here already. You know how many people die and go to Hell every day? Just processing them and finding them a spot to wait to be tortured for all eternity means we’re working 24-7.”
Wait…you said “wait.” Punishment in Hell is not continuous?
“Originally, is was supposed to be, but my opponent only granted me a certain number of imps. Jesus keeps slow-walking about coming back in glory to judge the living and the dead—you talk to that bro, and you can tell His heart’s not in it—but that keeps more and more souls coming to Hell. Our resources are stretched to the limit. You got a better chance of being mugged in Chicago than you do getting pitchforked down here on the average day.”
Wow…what do most of the souls do, then?
“Some of them keep busy…rapists thrive, but, due to the eternal nature of things down here, murderers are shit out of luck. If you’re feeling randy, the Whore of Babylon is always open for business. But most of the damned think it’s too hot for sex here. We do have the Satan Bowl every year, for American football fans. But most of the souls just stand around, bitching about the temperature and the boredom. It’s torture for me, really, not having the personnel to give them the punishment they deserve.”
You feel tormented? So you’re making Hell all about yourself?
“I was the first customer here, remember? When the human souls started trickling in, it was a good time, I grant you that. My imps were young, then, and filled with sadistic glee. Now they’re just a bunch of clock-punchers. Got themselves unionized when I wasn’t paying attention, too. Between paid time off and mandatory family leave, I can barely get half of them on the floor at the same time.”
I guess that sucks for you.
“It’s totally lacking in fulfillment. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t have taken the fallen angel career path, that’s for sure. Maybe I would have been a professional bodybuilder. I mean, check out these abs.”
Umm…nice, I guess. But back to the main question—do you have a plan for Earth?
“Hell, no. Like that pun? All the things I get blamed for—war, disease, famine, mass shootings—why would they benefit me? Just more souls to burn, and I have plenty already. I shudder at the thought of the Apocalypse, and nearly every soul on Earth getting on the Hell train. Bound to be serious issues then, not the least of which is keeping them all at least a little warm. I mean, the temperature is bound to drop, but, contrary to rumor, IT IS NOT GOING TO FREEZE OVER.”
That’s reassuring, I suppose.
“Wish I had retirement to look forward to, but guess what eternal beings don’t get? I got to get back to the floor—that Vegas guy is here, and he gets special attention. I mean, I just let his victims tear him to bits, but then I have to reassemble him so that they can do it again. But what hurts me is I know I’m just going through the motions.”
I was getting fed up with Satan’s little pity party, but an honest journalist like myself just quotes the source, so I kept my mouth shut. It seemed odd to thank him for his time, since he has an eternity of it, so I just said: Well, I guess I’ll catch you later.
“Count on it, pal. Count on it.”