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The End

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Satan speaks [Nov. 29th, 2005|10:47 pm]
The End


[Feelings |gloomygloomy]
[Dirge |Lucifer laughs, hell awaits]

I've tried, I really have, but nothing ever goes right for me. Everywhere I go,
it's the same thing: people talking about me like I'm not even there, saying how
terrible I am. Telling other people not to walk in my path. Urging that I be
shunned and reviled, and commanding me in the name of all that is holy to get
myself behind them. I swear, sometimes it seems like everybody thinks I'm the
worst entity in creation.

I'm not that bad a guy, okay? I have my flaws,
but I'll have you know I used to be considered quite the golden boy back in my
day. Do you even know what the name Lucifer means? Depending on how it's
translated, it can be "Bright And Shining One" or "Bringer Of Light," or all
kinds of pretty names. I'm telling you, I was the fairest star in the firmament
once. The only reason I even got kicked out Heaven in the first place is because
I was more beautiful than God.

Yeah, well, now look at me. I can't even
possess a lousy 10-year-old girl without some geezer in a white collar screaming
"The power of Christ compels you!" in my face and insisting that I leave
immediately. Look, I just want to connect with a human being for a little while!
Levitate a few beds, spin a couple necks around, have some deep, throaty laughs.
Is that so wrong? Everybody treats me like some kind of lowlife just because I'm
the symbolic embodiment of all the evil in the universe.

Have you heard
the things they call me? I can take a good-natured ribbing as much as the next
guy, but some of these names are just so mean. Do you have any idea how it feels
to be called the "Lord Of Lies"? Ouch. Look, I may be mankind's greatest fears
and weaknesses made flesh, but my feelings can get hurt just like anybody
else's. "Prince Of Darkness"? How would you feel if everybody called you "The
Defiler," or "The Despoiler," or "The Unclean One"? It's not my fault that my
terrifying visage erupts into suppurating boils when exposed to the holy light
of truth and righteousness. It's hideous enough without people always needing to
rub it in.

I'll bet I'm the most despised and hated being in the whole
wide world. I even wrote a poem about it once in my creative-writing class, but
when I read it out loud, everybody just laughed at me. I only took that class to
make friends, but even the biggest dorks there reacted to my very presence with
visceral repulsion. I'm telling you, I felt like the lowest of the low. The only
way I could get anyone to talk to me was by promising this one guy I'd make his
stupid legal thrillers into bestsellers in exchange for his immortal soul. Now
he's had a string of hit movie adaptations and I'll bet I don't even hear word
one from him until he shows up mewling and begging at the gateway to the

Oh sure, there are the occasional few who want to be my
acolytes, but come on. I mean, have you seen these people? They're plain weird.
Sure, they say that the reason they're into me is because they're rejecting
society's small-minded notions of petty morality and embracing a world where "do
as thou wilt" shall be the whole of the law, but it's pretty obvious that
they're really just mad that nobody else in the corporeal realm wants anything
to do with them.

I was sort of excited by the ones from the Norwegian
black metal scene at first, though. I thought, "Finally, some worshipers who,
if nothing else, at least have the balls to burn down a 900-year-old church."
Some of them even had girlfriends. But that wore off pretty quick after I caught
a few shows. For people who've supposedly sold their souls to the devil, these
guys couldn't put together a tune for shit. I mean, I sure as hell didn't trade
them any guitar skills down at the crossroads—or whatever the hell the Norwegian
folklore equivalent would be—and from the sound of their records, nobody else
did either. Let's just admit it—black metal is lame.

And while we're on
the subject of my mortal followers, don't believe a word you hear about all
these so-called "spawn of Satan"—that phrase gets thrown around quite a bit, but
believe you me, most women won't even come near me. I guess I've never really
known how to show affection. But I have needs too, you know! I just wish I could
meet a nice virgin half-goat woman who totally gets me. But every time I get
involved with a receptacle for my seed, it always ends badly.

The only
person who understands me is my friend Gene. Sure, he knows I'm a mythical
representation of all the tragic and self-defeating fallibility inherent in the
human condition, but he doesn't judge me for it. Lately though, I hardly ever
get to see him. Ever since he settled down, he's spending more and more time
with his wife and kid. I know he's busy, but I miss him. He was an okay enough
guy... not quite evil enough for my tastes, maybe, but an okay guy all the same.

article from The

By Satan
November 23, 2005 | Issue 41•47