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1994-11-24
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198 lines
Copyright 1994(c)
THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT
By Jessie Van Drie
I remember quite well indeed how he used to sit there, the
red glow creating deep shadows on his grinning face, telling me
that he'd tried anything but it just couldn't be burned off: that
smile of his. He also told me how it came about. Because he'd
been to God with it.
"God," he'd started out, "I've got this grin on my face that
really can't be burned off." He whined and complained until he
was interrupted.
"Then such it surely must be," God declared.
"Whattya mean?" he had asked God.
"You're part of my pantheon of deities. Without you, what
have I got to set myself against?"
"Well, that's dualism. We're both part of the unnameable.
We're one there."
"I won't discuss politics with you. If you say it can't be
burned off, it can't be burned off. What could I do about it? Any
other pressing matters on your mind?"
"No."
***
Satan shook his head, deeply dismayed. That was the extent
of his conversation with God. Still, the problem stood and he
turned to me, a mere mortal, with his problem.
"You could consult a plastic surgeon," I ventured.
"See? There you go. A plastic surgeon. Do you think someone
like that could burn it off?"
"Dunno. Must be worth a try, mustn't it?"
"I tell you, it just can't be burned off."
"Hmm," I mused.
"Yeah?" Expectancy on his part.
"You say that it cannot be burned off. Why not something
else? Slash it off, hack it off, slam it off, butcher it off?
Surely someone with your powers must have avenues open other than
just the burning?"
"What? I've been burning ever since time began, you can't
seriously expect me to..."
"And what if it helped?" I ventured to interrupt.
"Not burning would be a breach in established policy. And I
never helped anyone."
"I didn't say you should help, I said it could help."
"It... It?"
"Hacking, slashing, butchering, cutting, plastering,
pasting, publishing."
"Publishing?"
"Sure. Anything can be lied about."
"You're suggesting I'd lie off my grin?"
"If it'd help?"
"How?"
"Make it known your grin has vanished."
"Just like that?"
"Sure. Anything repeated oft enough becomes a truth all by
itself."
"Ah, so we'd have to construct a lie about this. Best it'd
be a good one. Like, like..."
"Like that your grin has been burned off."
"Sure! Let's test it." He hadn't finished speaking when a
dark cloud appeared before his throne. A large horned creature
appeared in the midst of it, cloaked in a contrasting outfit of
both flames and darkness.
"Lord?" the creature uttered in a deep voice and bowed.
"Ah, Lucifer. My grin has burned off, Luce," Satan stated to
his servant.
"Does my Lord disturb his hard-working servant with such a
bold lie?"
"Yes. Repeat this truth."
"My grin has burned off," the creature declared solemnly.
"No! Not your grin, mine!"
"It is only what I said, Lord. I said `My grin has burned
off'."
"Stop being selfish and cooperate."
"Yes, Lord."
"So?"
"Your grin has burned off, Lord."
"Excellent! Now, spread that."
"Where, Lord?"
"Well, yes, where?"
"We have an option, Lord," Lucifer said.
"Oh, and what is that option?"
"At the end of days, a beast will come from the sea, bearing
words of heresy. Surely the beast's got some spots not yet
allocated, Lord?"
"What! You expect me to wait for that? And what kind of
heresy would that be?"
"I was just suggesting, Lord," Lucifer scowled and peered at
me. "Surely the mortal could help. Mortals control the media,
Lord."
I shook my head.
"No?" my client asked.
"No go," I said.
"Well, why not?"
"What would you do? The morning papers opening up with a
headline that reads `Satan's grin burned off,' TV news saying:
`Today, an evil spokesperson announced that Satan had finally
succeeded in burning off his grin.' Come on, you can't be
serious."
"But they must believe the lie!" Satan wailed.
"Write a book about it," I suggested.
"Who, me? Writing a book?"
"Why not?"
"Never."
"Well, it doesn't have to be an autobiography."
"A biography? Sure, nice! Has the ring of objectivity.
Luce?"
"M'Lord?"
"Write me a biography."
Lucifer scowled and glared at me with hatred.
"Let him write!"
"Let him write what?"
"The biography!"
"The biography what!?"
"The biography, Lord," Lucifer muttered meekly.
"Why not you?"
Lucifer produced two fiery claws from beneath his cloak.
Holding a pen or typing on a keyboard with such attributes
clearly was out of the question.
"Well, mortal?"
"Me? Writing a biography?"
"Why doesn't he have to call you Lord, Lord? I have to do it
all the time!" Luce complained.
"He's a mortal. What bad would it do? He'll die, go to
heaven or hell, whatever. But there remains the question of the
biography."
"I'm not going to write your biography," I said. "Let him do
it."
"But you've seen his claws, pens and keyboards would be
reduced to their elements, obviously he can't do it."
"Let him use voice recognition or let him incarnate, he's
the only one with the knowledge." I suggested indifferently.
Satan seemed to consider the proposition and Luficer once more
glared at me angrily.
"Yes. Luce, you're going to Earth to write my biography."
Now Lucifer's flames flared and his darkness trembled. He was
aghast, his wide eyes clinging to his Lord; despair dripping from
the tip of his horns. Such was the state of this hellish fiend.
"No, Lord, no! Send Beelzebub! Not me!"
The Devil spared me a knowing grin and informed me about the
historical reasons of Luce's turmoil. Lucifer happened to have
had some draining experiences on Earth. Lucifer might seem to be
a hellish creature ready to play levelboss in Doom, but recently
he was often reduced to bare, frustrated and obsessed self-
consciousness because of those experiences.
"It'll also be excellent therapy for you," Satan added.
"Why not Bee'z, Lord!?"
"Why not, eh," Satan said and sank back in thought and
throne. "Sure, that can be done, he is already on Earth. But my
heart consults against such obvious options."
"But Lord, if he's already there he can start writing now!"
"And of course, it would be out of character for him to
write about me."
"Now why would that be, Lord?"
"He's a psychologist."
"A what, Lord?"
The Devil shrugged. "A shrink, a professional dealing with
nonconformist people."
"Shrink, Lord?"
"Yes. Often people have inflated ideas of the self. He
shrinks them."
"What for, Lord?"
"Makes them more open to our new ideas."
"I can tell he hasn't been on Earth a long time," I sneered.
Again I got a venomous glance from Lucifer.
"Beelzebub can't write about the Devil in an objective
manner, Luce, no more than I could," I lectured. Lucifer was
about to smash my skull, I knew that. I also knew he would remain
about to do so, while never proceeding to do so, as long as the
Devil lived.
"If he writes about your master," I continued, "It'd be in
the Freudian or Jungian sense."
"Mortal, don't annoy him so much. He's not acquainted with
Freud or Jung. The most recent thing he's seen of human
expressions is their paintings on the walls of caves."
"I've also seen stone tools and pottery, Lord."
"Yes, well, things have changed now, and really I see no
reason why you shouldn't be going there."
Incarnation was nothing to the Devil. The last time he
himself incarnated was as a Tyrannosaurus in the time of the
Dinosaurs because he, quote, "liked their style." To Lucifer,
knowing his new stint, incarnation was a small death. Deep
inside, Lucifer knew he wasn't the type for Earth. Tyrannosaurus?
Ok, but a human being? At that same spot deep inside, Luce knew
he didn't have the props to be a human. But, and this Luce saw as
something to contain his despair, Bee'z would be there.
Still, Luce stood there shaking on his paws with the Devil and
that ghastly human mortal watching him. The hexagram his paws
stood trembling on was the device that would transform him and
send him to Earth. He would become a human, and be surrounded by
billions of 'em. Before he left, the human briefed him thoroughly
on the situation but Luce, revolted as he was, picked up little of
it.
Later, on earth, it came back to him bit by bit now. But if
anyone ever knew the meaning of being homesick, it was Luce, there
and then.
To be continued...