The Devil (Dev for short) and I have been uneasy partners for quite some time. It all started a loooooong time ago when I was watching The Facts of Life back when it was still on prime time (hey, I thought Tootie was hot). It turns out that that show was special programming produced by Satan herself to weed out the most evil of humanity. Even at that young age I was able to somehow talk the Princess of Darkness into letting my soul go as long as I was willing to steal a few dozen innocent spirits from some of my friends. I had no problem with that and so an alliance of sorts was born. Over the years Dev has thrown in a few things in return for my service, like an endless collection of red hats. One time I made the mistake of withholding the bag o'souls from Satan in the hopes of upping my pay. I think I was 12 years-old at the time, and I tried to get her to give me a real lightsaber, or the power of the Force, or something just as Star Warsy. Well, Dev smiled her twisted smile and extended a hand towards me in what I thought was an offered "shake of agreement." I was wrong. Instead Satan yanked my arm off, stuck it all the way up my rectum, and then proceeded to throw me around the room by grabbing me by my goody sack. After a few hours, she calmed down, and was un-evil enough to reattach both my scrotum and arm (though my arm smelled like my insides for at least a month... A veeeeeery unpopular month). Since then I've learned to let the great horned one write the conditions of our exchanges. There was a single time though where Dev must have really liked the crop of souls that I brought her (I got both George W. Bush and Bill Clinton [Hillary was already hers of course]), and the Mistress of Sin granted me one wish. I of course wished for the utter destruction and deletion of Oprah's body and soul, but unfortunately Oprah had already signed a deal with Satan years before. My one wish was wasted. If ever given that chance again I'll wish to be a woman for a week... I would never leave my fucking house that whoooooole week.
Despite the fact that Dev tries to double cross me all the time I've remained doing business with her. It just gives me an inflated sense of an ego. She actually took me on a tour of Hell a while back and I must say that I was quite impressed. What blew my mind the most though was that she had to bump the whole place up to 42 Levels already due to the increased amounts of lawyers, boy bands and Georgia Tech Graduates in the world today. They just keep coming! Now THAT'S fucking evil. One thing I didn't originally know about Hell though was that there's a Good Hell and a Bad Hell. The Good Hell is where all the sinners who actually made Satan smile with their Earthly, evil antics go (people who did a good job of doing bad things: Like Hitler, Stalin, Judas and Mother Teresa [turns out she was really secretly feeding all those Indians beef for years]). These are the people that made Dev proud. People who defined "evil". People who were assholes because they liked to inflict pain and see suffering. So Dev made Hell their Heaven. They get playgrounds of whores, unending waterfalls of liquor and beer, as many drugs as they can do, etc. The Bad Hell is where all the people that Heaven didn't want, and who Satan was forced into taking go. The previously mentioned boy bands and lawyers are of course part of this group, as well as all the Mormons. Apparently the Mormons reeeeally got it wrong. Anyway, the Bad Hell is constantly tormented by the Good Hell. Say for example Richard Nixon wanted to fuck twenty woman up the ass with a razor strap-on... He'd grab a couple of dozen Mormon lawyers and screw away. And say that Sigmund Freud (what an evil douche!) wanted to stuff live lobsters and venomous snakes down someone's throat and then punch him in the stomach to get them to fight... That's why the Scientologists were made. Bad Hell is brutal.
Way back when I was first fishing for souls for Dev, God appeared to me and wanted to know what it was I thought I was doing. I told him that I was no worse than most movie and television executives. And they don't even have the common courtesy to entertain the person who's ghost they're damning! I at least put on a little song and dance before stuffing a new soul in the bag. The kids love it! I actually have a signup sheet that's four pages long right now of kids waiting to see the "Rossman Shuffle" at the price of never attaining heavenly immortality. I'm that good! I think what really gets them is how much I can jam to MC Hammer and Sir Mix-A-Lot in my stylin' high tops and orange parachute pants. One time I busted a move so phat bad that I got some mad props from those I was servin'. Ohhh yeeeeeeah!
Satan Quote: "Oh yes, you're on my list. And yes, so is she. Actually, everybody in your whole office is too... Except for that man with that 'Jesus fish' on his car. Turns out I can't touch those fuckers." |
