My Interview With Satan

I had my reservations.

If you remember, last year I interviewed God. It's kind of tough interviewing a dude who knows every question you're going to ask him. A brief recap: He stiffed me on the hamburger. If you don't know what I'm talking about, I suggest you read the story. Oh, read it anyway. It'll make you laugh and push me one step further towards Internet immortality. Who knows? I could be the next "Peanut Butter Jelly Time!"

So, there I was, doing perfectly nothing - and doing it well - when there was a knock at my door. I crowbarred my gold-brickin' ass from the couch and opened the door. There, standing in front of me was the man himself. He was about my height, with soulless, lifeless eyes, jet-black hair swept back, well-manicured goatee, awful smell, but not a hint of horns or a goat's legs. It was the Fedex man. He handed me a clipboard to sign then gave me a letter. It was a nice envelope. Egg shell white with Bookman Old Style font. There was no stamp. I thought, "That's odd," until I remembered it was delivered by Federal Express. The return address simply said, "Hell." I thought, "Hmmm, looks like Phil got married again."

I slid open the flap and saw the gold foil. "Nope, it's not from Phil," I thought. Inside was a card that looked like a wedding invitation. It even had that stupid little tissue thingy in there. I opened the card, which only had one word - written in blood red, mind you: "Hello."

I can't explain what happened next. All of a sudden, the bottom dropped out of the universe and I felt like I was flying and falling at the same time and at incredible speed. Kind of like that feeling you got in history class where you wake up with a violent jerk, pen cap chewed in half and drool down the front of your shirt while your classmates slowly inched their chairs away from you.

Next thing you know, I'm right back where I started. The Fedex guy, who by now was thoroughly enjoying himself at my histrionics, walked away laughing like a man possessed. I thought, "Hmmm, so this is what it's like to feel like Gary Busey," and walked back to the door. The sucker was locked. For reasons known to anyone else except me, I rang the doorbell. To my surprise, I heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door. Sensing an intruder, I reached for something to defend myself with. So, I'm standing there, with two handfuls of leaves, ready to throw down when a sweet, attractive lady answered the door. She said, "Oh, you must be here about the gutters!" Then she laughed, saying, "of course you're not. Why would a person bring more work TO work?" as she looked at my menacing handfuls of leaves and invited me in.

"You can leave those outside" she said, as I reluctantly dropped my only lines of defense on the porch. I don't know why I went in. I mean, hell, I LIVED here, but something wasn't right, and I noticed it immediately when I stepped inside. It was clean. "Dick will be down in a minute." As the Cialis and Viagra jokes danced in my head, she put her right hand on her hip, with the thumb forward, and placed her left hand on the railing, "Dick! Dick, he's here!"

She turned to me and said, "He'll be down in a minute" again, and headed toward the kitchen. She popped her head around the corner and asked me if I was staying for dinner. "We're having corn, sweet potatoes and meatloaf." I hate sweet potatoes. Oh, well, two out of three ain't bad. Then, I heard the footsteps. I thought to myself, "If I were a betting man, I'd guess this would be Dick." I looked up, and this pleasant, jovial man stopped at the landing and said, "Kevin! So glad to finally meet you!" I shook his hand in the unpleasant manner of a man who is introduced to a guy who banged your college girlfriend. He beamed at me and asked, "So, what are you drinking, old man? I bet you're a White Russian man. Me, too! Couldn't put them down after seeing "The Big Lebowski." Those Coen Brothers are something else." He then continued to talk about how he was a fan of theirs before it became trendy and how the missus was a straight-line Julia Roberts, chick-flick fan. He was starting to ask me if I ever saw "When Harry Met Sally" when I broke in, rudely, "Um, who are you?"

He turned his head 45 degrees and fixed his left eye on me. Then, he began to laugh and handed my drink. "I'm Dick! Don't you remember?"

"Um, no, I'm afraid I don't," and took a sip of my drink, "but, I will say this - you mix a hell of a drink, Dick." I'm not kidding. This was a damned good cocktail. I bottomed out my tumbler and the crescent-shaped ice cubes bounced off my nose. I lowered the glass and he was already handing me another. He asked me to have a seat in the chair while he parked himself on the couch. "I'm Satan," he said. Considering everything I had been though so far, I said, "Ok, right, sure. You're Satan. I'm ok with that."

Now, we all have our own image of Satan. The cat more or less looks like this to most of us:

Well, I'm here to tell you - actually, disappoint you - that Satan really looks like this:

"Don't you remember? You called my secretary and asked me for an interview after you had that expose on God?"

I'll be damned, this MUST be the devil. I NEVER leave messages with secretaries if I can help it. Stalling for time to make any sense of anything I said I didn't have my notebook, tape recorder or any pens. Magically, a pen and pad of paper appeared on the coffee table in front of me. I looked up and asked about the tape recorder, but he said, "No tape recorders. I hate how I sound on those things." Not feeling completely up to the task, he leaned over and said, "Look, I'm not like the Big Man upstairs. I can't tell you what to say, but I can inspire certain things in your mind - or at least leave you more open to them."

"Ok," I said, "who is your favorite Beatle?"

At that point, the front door flew open and in charged about 4-5 smokin' females. The first one was very striking, in that cute Goth-girl chick look. She bent over and gave him a big kiss and hug. "I love you, Daddy!" The other girls gave a collective "Awwww!" She looked over at me and said, "Oh! I didn't see you there!"

He said, "Kevin, this is my daughter." Speaking of inspiring things in my mind. She gave me a cute, and very heavily-intentioned wink, then pivoted on her heel and said, "Daddy, we'll be upstairs studying!" Then the collective group of cuteness stomped noisily up the stairs, laughing and saying, "he's cuuuuuute!" I turned to ask him something, but he cut me off. "Don't even THINK about it! I'll rip the flesh from your body with a vegetable peeler! Oh, my favorite Beatle is George, although the missus is a Paul fan."

From the kitchen came a sweet voice, "He was the walrus! Goo-goo-gajoob! Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Then she started humming "Nowhere Man" and adding "Goo-goo-gajoob" to the end of each chorus.

Feeling strangely at home in this sketch comedy of a world, I mustered up some clarity and asked, "So, what happened?"

"You mean The Fall and all that? Everyone asks me this in interviews. I should just walk around town handing out index cards with this answer. Let's just say SOMEONE has an ego problem. He thinks his poop doesn't stink. It actually doesn't, but have SOME humility, for Christ's sake. Look, it's not like I was the only one in the office bucking for a promotion, and since I was exempt, I wasn't making any overtime money anymore. And talk about a micro-manager..."

"So, he wasn't the ideal boss?"

"You tell me. You met him."

"Point taken. So, is this Hell? I expected fire, brimstone and Carrot Top." I felt the arms of the chair. "Is this Burberry?"

"Like it? Craig's List. $250. For the chair AND the couch. The women was selling it cheap because she was moving to Asia."

Falling into step, I asked, "You mean to Seoul?"

"Singapore, actually. She's a big shot at GM. No kids. Great opportunity. Did you know you can't chew gum in Singapore?"

I thought to myself, "Great, Satan's a trivia nut. If he breaks out the Trivial Pursuit, things could get ugly quick." I said to him, "See, I said 'Seoul' because it sounds like..."

"I know what you were trying to do." He lifted his head a little and called out, "Hon? What time is dinner?"

From the kitchen came, "Half an hour, Dick! Goo-goo-gajoob!" followed by a laugh.

He looked at me and said, "Get yourself a good woman. We've been together forever and every day is a surprise. We met at Homecoming. She was a senior and I was home from college for the weekend. Before you ask - Trinity College. Anyway, I saw her at the pep rally bonfire. I remembered seeing her in the hallways at school, but I was seeing someone. I always had someone. We just hit it off."

Nodding my head, absently, I said, "So, about Hell..."

"Hell? Hell is what you make it out to be. If you want Hell to be fire and brimstone, be my guest. Just leave Carrot Top out of it. Look, like everything, it's up to interpretation, like angels having wings. Let me give you a little history lesson. When beliefs were being created and spread, it belonged to the people. Then it became an institution - a business! And who do you think ran things back then? The people who could read and write, and who were they?" He tugged back one finger at a time. "The nobility, the clergy and the wealthy. Remember, society was still rather primitive back then. They put their faith - no pun intended - in the ruling classes and all three of those groups were washing each others' backs, and when one of those groups represents something so close to the heart as faith - and takes the clergy's word as gospel - you basically have an entire underclass of people who believe what they are told. Since those same people couldn't read or write, their traditions and beliefs were passed down orally to their children, generation after generation. It propagated itself. All the other branches of that religion are just basically variations of the same theme. Oh, God is real, all right, as you already know, but he gave people free will, and that's why you have so many religions today. It's also why Religion, Politics and Finance basically run the world - and they're all connected. Always have been and always will be. Religion wasn't about faith. It was about order."

"Um, thanks. What's your middle name?"

"Ted."

"How about the end of the world? The Apocalypse?"

"The Apocalypse is coming with or without me. Man is like the ultimate temp worker. He does all the work and I take all the credit. Nah, when the Apocalypse hits, I'll be on the Play Station or poolside."

"Why do they call you 'The Beast'?"

From the kitchen came a woman's voice, "Have you ever used the bathroom after him? Goo-goo-gajoob!"

"I'm called The Beast, because if you can't have a hero without a villain. Yeah, I screwed up. I'll be the first to admit it. I was young and full of beans. It's like a much more serious game of "You're Momma's So Ugly..."

"Still, it must bother you to be dreaded by so many people over such a long period of time."

"Personally, I really don't give a damn - okay, that was intentional!" Satan loves laughing at his own jokes. He's like that uncle that pulls the quarter from your ear before blasting you in the face with a belch of Old Milwaukee. "Seriously, though, I really don't care what others think of me. They can believe in me or not. You know the old saying, "You may not believe in The Devil, but he believes in you"? Well - ta-da!"

"Literature sometimes depicts you as being sexy."

"Is this a question or a statement? Look, I'm not going to lie to you. I love being cast as the sexy seducer. Well, you tell me? You've seen my daughter. She's a knockout. And while her mother is quite the looker, she got most of her genes from me." He leaned forward and tapped his chest with an index finger twice and said, "Pure Dick."

Biting my tongue until it almost bled, I asked, "So where are all the tortured souls that are supposed to be here?

"Have you seen my lawn?" Thinking back, I never did turn around to see if the lawn changed after I entered this cuckoo clock of a world. "I have some out there right now cutting my grass."

"So, in hell, you become a landscaper?"

"Well, my lawn IS one million light years long - and wide. And they have to cut it with their teeth, one blade at a time. If of them screws up, I grow back the grass and they start all over again. Mostly low-volume sinners. Now the ones I put in charge of cleaning the leaves from my gutters are the worst sinners. You don't even want to know what they've done when they were alive."

"I have a pretty good idea," I deadpanned. "Let's lighten this up a bit. Your name is used in so many common sayings. I want to get your opinion on some of them."

"Fire away."

"The Devil is in the details"

"Details? You mean the magazine? Hell, I've been in that rag more times than Paris Hilton. Yes, I went there."

"Devil In a Blue Dress"

"It was a fraternity thing."

"The Devil made me do it."

"Damn right I did. Actually, I didn't, but I'll take an empty compliment all day, every day."

"Between The Devil and the deep blue sea."

"That's your ass, right there, because when I hit the beach, I'm already in mid-air with my boogie board as soon as that first wave comes in. Actually, the "devil" in that saying refers to very bottom of the ship's hull when people were keel-hauled. It was called the 'devil'"

"The Devil and Miss Jones"

"I swear I did not have sexual relations with that woman." He leans in and whispers. "Dude! Be cool!"

Nodding, I ask him, "Who do you think has done the best job of portraying you in the movies?"

"Pacino. Hands down. He plays me in every movie, actually. He's THAT good. Oh, and I liked DeNiro in that "Angel Heart" movie. Great look. Played a guy named Louis (Lou) Cypher. Lou Cypher - get it?"

"Yes, "Lucifer" - I get it."

"I loved the way he peeled that egg. I went as him for Halloween three years in a row until the wife came up with that damned "Raggedy Ann and Andy" couples costume. I freakin' HATED that thing."

From the kitchen came, "Oh, you loved it! You looked so CUTE!"

He shook his head and smiled. "Is that all you have to add?"

"Oh! Goo-goo-gajoob!"

"He put his hand on my arm. "Get yourself one. You'll thank me"

She came into the room and said, "You're welcome to stay for dinner" before walking to the foot of the stairs and calling, "Dinner!"

"So, what's it going to be, old bean? Going to break bread with us?"

I thought about it and said, "Maybe next time. I'll just grab a burger on the way home, I know a place."

I stood up, but since I was drinking, I almost took a header right onto the coffee table. He stood up and steadied me by the elbow. "Whoa, there, buckaroo! Here, lie down for a second and I'll get you something for that head of yours." Then he disappeared into the kitchen. I closed my eyes, trying to shake off the effects of the alcohol, rubbed them with the heels of my palms and looked up.

It was quiet.

I sat up and looked around. I was back in my house and on my non-Burberry couch. I must've been dreaming. But, it seemed so REAL. And his daughter was babe-a-licious. Suddenly, my heart jumped into my throat as a loud knocking rapped at my door. It echoed right through me. I looked down at a stack of loose-leaf paper on the coffee table with the words, "My Interview With Satan" written in red ink. There was another knock at the door, I chuckled a little and laid back down.

Then I went to sleep.