“Satan did not go first to Job and say, ‘I am going to kill your children!’ No, he just did it, but only after he got permission from God” — Pastor JD Farag
“Yo, Jealous,” Satan hollered from down there, “Need to talk with you.”
“You know I don’t like that name,” God said.
“Yeah, but it makes me happy and I don’t get to say it much, ‘specially to your face,” Satan said.
“Whatever, dude,” God said. “What do you want?”
“I wanna start a plague?”
“Why?”
“For the fun of it.”
“There’s got to be more to it than that, Lucy.”
“No, there ain’t and damn it, don’t call me Lucy. At least not in public!”
“Who else is involved in this scheme?”
“The ususual, only I’ve invited that cat Mao to sit in.”
“Why him?”
“Stalin and Hitler recommended him. Besides, he had the groovy idea to start it in China.”
“If I say okay, it’ll be the same rules as before.”
“Naw, man. This one’s is different, I need just a few victims I mean, there were a few casualties the last time, man.”
“You’re trying to pull a fast one on me, I can tell.”
“No way, Jose-nose, you can even record what happens.”
“Oh, I’m going to do that.”
“Yeah, man, who’s it gonna be this time.”
“Some dip-shit believer that keeps asking me to make him into a famous writer or something.”
“Do I know dis cat?”
“Not that I know of, besides I ain’t tellin’ you, because you’ll figure out a way to screw with him.”
“Man! Ain’t ya never gonna trust me?”
“Not only no, but Hell no!”
“You still got that wicked sense of humor for an old dog, cuz.”
Interested in what Satan had planned, God gave his blessing.
“Okay, that’s enough, Lucifer,” God commanded.
“But I’m only gittin’ started, besides three seconds ain’t ‘nough time to have fun with you old fart,” Satan complained.
“Look, that is three times the amount I gave you last time.”
“Fine, fine. I wanna copy when it comes out.”
“Deal, now amskray, before I change my mind.”
God looked down on the would-be-famous writer and answered, “Now is your time.”
The man sat down and researched all he could on the plague that spread around the world. He wrote and wrote and wrote but was never satisfied with the results.
On the verge of giving up, he suddenly found his ‘voice’ and filed his story. No one read it because it was so full of facts and truths that it was confusing even to the editors.
“Too many moving parts,” they claimed.
Defeated, the writer yelled at God, “You told me to write it, and I did! Now, I’m being laughed at damn you!”
“Yo, dude, that cat down there’s mad at you,” Satan said. “Guess you didn’t keep your promise, huh?”
“Ah, shut up, Lucifer,” God responded.
“Ooo, touchy, touchy, ain’t we?” Satan teased.
God looked down and realized he had brought up a generation of morons, people too stupid to think for themselves and so gullible that they willingly infected themselves. He sighed in disgust.
“Pretty good trick, don’t ya think, Jealous?”
God now wished he’d never let Clemens play around with His bible.
“Quaints, my ass.”
After Satan had left, God looked down on the angry but hapless writer and saw that in his rage, he had written a nearly perfect encapsulation of what had transpired between Himself and Satan. And he did so in less than 600 words.
“Too bad no one will understand what been written,” God said.
The Old Blog in the Desert 