halfpricelint

[halfpricelint]

Satan’s Little Helper, Part VII

[CW: Suicidal ideation]

It would be a couple weeks before Satan heard from Megan again, but she did eventually reach out another day after school.

“Hey, Lu.” She said with a smile as he emerged.

“Hey, Megan. What’s going on?”

“Oh,” She looked away and grabbed her elbow. “Nothing.”

“Never play poker, kid. Not with that bluff.”

“I’m just...” She paused. “I just needed some company.”

“Do you not have anyone at school to hang out with?”

“No, I’m super popular and everyone loves me. I just decided to summon the devil because I got bored of being adored by everyone.”

“How does so much sarcasm fit in such a tiny girl?”

She flipped him off.

“Yes, much better.” He rolled his eyes. “What can I do for you, Megan? I’d love to chill, but I’m a busy devil.”

Megan rolled over on her bed to reach for her ragged copy of Law and Chaos of the Occult, which she flipped open expertly to a page with one motion.

“Is it true that I can send you messages? Like, without summoning you?”

Satan reached out to take the book and skimmed the text.

“This is mostly true,” He admitted, “But the system is automated now. Instead of me receiving paper missives from an employee, I get it on this phone now.”

“You have a devil phone?”

“I don’t call it a devil phone, but yes.”

“What do you call it?”

“I call it my phone, Megan. What do you call your phone?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh. Right.”

Lu looked over the text to verify the instructions for passing on messages to him. It was surprisingly accurate, with only minor details preventing it from working. He sat down on the mattress next to Megan.

“This will work,” He said, “But only if you face east and make sure the paper is in contact with the ground, which means it won’t work on the second floor.”

Lu looked up to see Megan scrambling to take notes.

“You take this stuff really seriously, don’t you?”

“I like it. You don’t?”

“I don’t really have to. That’s what I have the souls of the damned for. They do all the dirty work. It’s really a beautiful system.”

“Is it not also your hell, though?”

Satan sat up in surprise. Nobody had ever asked him that before.

“They certainly don’t make it easy on me.”

“Who is they?”

“God and the like.”

“So God does exist.”

Satan smacked his forehead with his palm. Not supposed to say that. C’mon, this is Devil 101 stuff.

“Did you think there was a hell but not a heaven?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me with the way things are here.”

“That’s fair.”

Megan breathed in deeply and sighed.

“Do you know my mom, Lu?”

He frowned. “I’m not really supposed to tell you stuff like that, Megan.”

Megan looked away, her mouth in the shape of a grin but her eyes downcast.

“But what are they going to do to me? Send me to hell?” He continued after a moment. 

Megan looked up thoughtfully.

“Your mom is fine. She’s in heaven right now, so they’re taking good care of her.”

“Even though she wasn’t Christian?”

Lu laughed. “Something like religion isn’t enough to save or damn you. If you were a good person you get a good afterlife, if you were a terrible person you get a shitty afterlife.”

“What does a good or shitty afterlife look like then?”

“Depends on the person. The same afterlife can be heaven for one and hell for another. For instance, we have a family that lives together in a fancy mansion right now, two of them in heaven and one of them in hell. It’s one of our more efficient designs.”

“Then who decides what makes a good person? Who figures out what each person would like or hate? Where is heaven and hell? Is there enough space for all the 100 billion people who have died, plus the billions more to come? Who is in charge of overseeing all this? What if there’s a mistake? Is there an appeals process?”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Satan put his hands up. “I’ve already told you too much.”

Megan folded her arms and huffed. Satan laughed.

“You’ll figure it all out when you get there just like everyone else. Which will hopefully be a long, long time from now.”

“Why bother waiting?” She muttered.

“What?”

“Why delay the inevitable? A few years is nothing in the grand scheme of things, so why not just get it over with? I think I’ve been a decent person, so a lukewarm afterlife sounds okay to me.”

“First of all, that’s a little presumptuous to think you know where you’ll get in the afterlife. Second, you only get one chance to have a physical body. Once it’s over, it’s over. You don’t get a second chance.”

“I hate my body!” She exclaimed. “And it’s about to get way worse.”

Satan sighed. I’m not the guy for this conversation.

“Listen, Megan,” He stumbled through his words, “You’re a smart kid, and you lost your mother, which I’m really sorry about. But that means you know firsthand that dying sucks for those left on your side.”

“Nobody would care if--”

“That’s the thing,” Satan interrupted, “You don’t get that people do. You’re too close to see it, but everyone has people in their orbit. I’ve seen it time and time again. Megan, I’ve seen all of eternity, and not one person has died unmissed. Not a single one.”

Megan scrunched up her face to one side. 

“It’s stupid. Teenage angst and all that bullshit.”

“You’re too young to have teenage angst.”

“Fuck off.”

“See, that’s just human angst. You’ll get much more intolerable as a person as you get older.”

Megan laughed. Satan smiled and softened.

“Megan,” he began, unsure of where the sentence would end. “In your darkest times I need you to remember that nothing is forever in this life. Everything is soon.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Satan.”

“Fine.” He groaned. “Then live out of sheer spite. Everyone who torments you? Fuck ‘em. Grow up to be something great so that when they’re 32 drinking shitty beer on their couch they’ll see you online and go ‘Goddamn, there’s somebody that made something of their lives unlike me, a human shitstain.’ And they’ll think for the rest of their lives that they should have been kinder to you because you deserved it all along. Then when they ask for forgiveness you can leave them on read and let them squirm.”

Megan looked up at him, her eyes shining. 

“I’ll tell you a little secret, Megan: life is a beautiful miracle, and it is brutish and unfair and a nightmare. You’ll swing back and forth between them or have them overlap. And people think the purpose of life is to be happy, but they’re inevitably disappointed. Because nobody’s happy all the time. It happens sometimes, which is cool, but happiness is punctuation, not the words.”

“So,” She butted in, “What is the purpose of life?”

“Whatever you want it to be, little one. Not even God or me can write that for you.”

She nodded her head for half a minute in silence. After thinking something through, she reached into her backpack to produce a razor blade hidden in one of the smaller pockets.

“Can you take this away from me?”

Lu gently accepted the sharpened metal and made it vanish through sleight of hand. Megan laughed, letting out something pent up over the past several minutes. A tear snuck out of her eye as she did. Satan smiled.

“Thanks, Lu.” She finally said. “Can I send you messages like how you showed me?”

“I wouldn’t have showed you otherwise.”

“Awesome.” She smiled.

“Looking forward to hearing from you, little one.”

[halfpricelint]

Satan’s Little Helper, Part VI

“Megan?” Satan cried out as he materialized in Montana. “Megan, are you okay?”

He ripped his body around in a circle looking for Megan in her room to discover her on the floor, drawing yet another flawless pentacle. She looked up with her eyes pouring out tears. 

“You came!” She wailed.

She bolted into his chest, sobbing into his pressed suit. 

“Of course,” Satan said, unsure what to do with his hands. “I said I would.”

“I’m not used to people keeping their promises.” She whispered.

“Well, I’m not people.” He said, settling on patting her head awkwardly. “What’s wrong? Why did you summon me so many times? You only need to do it once to get me here.”

She pulled back and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

“It’s my horse. It’s gone.”

“You have a horse?”

“The little beaded one on my backpack.” She explained.

“Ah.”

“Help me find it, Lu! I don’t know where it went!”

“Okay, okay. But I don’t know what you think I can do.”

“Just help me look!”

“Fine. Where was the last place you remember having it?”

“Here! In the house! It was on my backpack when I got back from school.”

“Well it can’t have gotten far then.”

Lu and Megan methodically investigated each square inch of her room before moving on to the next.

“Is your dad home?”

“Is he ever?”

“I’m just saying some humans are a little freaked out by the sight of the Actual Devil in their home.”

“Really? Why?”

“Your words cut deep, little one.”

The pair upended all the furniture in the house. They opened every cabinet and dug through all the cushions. They moved the beer bottles aside and Satan tidied as he went. A half-hour later both of them sat on the couch to catch their breath.

“I can’t think of anywhere else to--” Satan started.

“Oh!”

Megan leaped off the couch and sprinted back to her room. Satan groaned and stood up to follow her.

“I found it!” She exclaimed as he came in the room.

She hugged it tight to her chest before running back to him and embracing him as well.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” She whimpered, “I know it’s dumb to call you all this way for this, but.”

She grabbed her elbow and looked away.

“Do you,” Satan postulated, “Really like horses?”

“It was from my mother.” She replied solemnly. “I don’t have any memories of her, just little things she left for me. What Dad hasn’t pawned yet. I was terrified he had done it with this, too.”

“But you said he wasn’t home.”

“I don’t know. I just panicked!” She scrunched up her face in frustration. “I just didn’t want to lose this.”

“Huh.”

Satan steepled his fingers together and nodded.

“Would you like me to bind you to your little horse friend?”

“Bind?”

“Normally I use it in hell to bond a spirit to an object they hate so they can never forget where it is or be separated too far from it. But I could put a lesser enchantment on it so that it can never be lost or sold away.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Do you want me to?”

Megan considered for a moment, putting her hand up to her chin to think.

“Sure, yeah.”

“May I?” Satan asked as he reached for the horse.

Megan hesitated but eventually handed it to him. After configuring some settings on his phone, he waved his hand over the tiny animal and handed it back to her.

“We used to use spellbooks for this kind of stuff, but there’s an app for everything now. I think it lacks class, but I can’t argue with the convenience.”

She smiled, clutching her horse close.

“Thanks, Lu.”

“Are you doing okay otherwise?”

“Um,” She looked away, reaching for her elbow again. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Lu frowned but didn’t probe deeper. 

“Okay, well, I gotta go, but seriously, if you ever need me, you know how to find me. And just one pentacle is enough, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks again, Lu.”

[halfpricelint]

Satan’s Little Helper, Part V

In the following days Lucifer did his best to distract himself. This was not the easiest thing to do while filling out boring paperwork, but his job was never meant to be pleasant. 

He stopped checking his phone unless it hummed against his desk. The first couple times his heart raced as he hoped it would be from a certain little girl, but it was mostly new assignment briefings of the newly damned. It was a busy job as the devil, but someone had to do it. 

After a week passed he mostly gave up on hearing from Megan again. He’d been interested in some choice humans before only to never see them again. Apparently seeing Satan up close was enough to scare most people straight. Maybe Megan had been, too, despite her calm demeanor. Best to just let her lead her life, he supposed.

So it came to him as a surprise when he received three notifications--no, four notifications--no, six and counting alerts of summons taking place at the same coordinates:  48.09, -105.64. 

“Megan?”

Satan shuffled down the hall to the portal room, his phone buzzing every couple seconds.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He muttered, worry beginning to choke his throat.

Lucifer burst through the door to the portal room. “48.09, -105.64, Hans.”

“Well good morning to you, too, sir.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“I thought you wanted me to open the door from hell, not shut it.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Satan thundered in his multiphonic infernal voice. “Take me to  48.09, -105.64 or I’ll feed your eyes to the hounds.”

“No you won’t. You need me to operate the portal because you’ve forgotten how. Plus, didn’t you say you want me to see all the place you’ll beat me to going? You can’t do sh--”

Satan rushed Hans head-on and jammed Sparky into Hans’ abdomen. Hans dropped to the ground and began to convulse. Taking out his phone in a swift motion, Lucifer navigated to chose a new setting for Sparky to direct pain. Hans shrieked in torment.

“Oh, does your right eye hurt, Hans?” Satan cooed. “If it offends you, then why don’t you pluck it out?”

Hans clawed at his eye sockets before remembering his physical form was gone.

“Fuck you.” He spat between screams.

Satan shook his head and clicked his tongue. “What have I said about manners, Hans? Now, I will be back to take care of your eye, but it just so happens I do remember how to work the portal. I just keep you here for your own edification.”

His phone buzzed yet again. He frowned.

“Ta-ta for now, Hans. Duty calls.”

As Satan took his place to operate the portal, Hans peered up at him. 

“Haven’t you been there before?”

Lucifer adjusted Sparky to expand its field to Hans’ left eye, leaving him howling in pain. Without a word, he pulled the portal over himself to answer the twelve summons all at this location.

[halfpricelint]

Modern Prayers: The Selfie

“Love you, my dear!” Susan called out as she descended the stairs, nearly floating over each step. “I’ll be praying for you!”

Eileen waved weakly towards her departing guest. When Susan reached the sidewalk outside Eileen’s apartment, she blew a kiss before getting in her car and driving away. 

Eileen watched and sighed. She slowly pulled her apartment door closed. A long moment passed in silence. With another sigh she slumped onto her living room couch and pulled out her phone. There was one message.

Marcie: Susan convert you yet?

Eileen snorted and jotted down a reply.

Had to take a break after the holy water burned me

She half-smiled and pulled the glass of her phone to her sweater. A few seconds later a buzz startled Eileen and she drew a triangle on her screen to unlock her phone. Another message from Marcie.

Don’t you hate it when that happens?

Eileen smirked and tapped out two responses in a row.

She says it’s not polite to hiss

Said she’d pray for me though

She looked upward, her eyes drawn to the not-so-subtle spackle job on cracks in the drywall. Raising her legs parallel to the wall, she pretended that gravity flipped and she was walking on the ceiling. She hummed a few bars of Lionel Richie when the next phone buzz broke her trance. The lock screen notification showed the whole message.

Jokes aside, that is kinda a neat thing

Eileen let her legs fall and tilted her head. She considered the message before tentatively sending something back.

What do you mean?

Keeping her phone on, she clumsily rotated her body to sit up on the couch. She slouched forward, perched on the curled palm of her right hand. Her fingers swiped across the screen to pull up Instagram. She hadn’t posted in weeks, but she wasn’t there to add photos.

It didn’t take long before she saw her. Emilia with a wide, open-mouth smile while her brand-new sunglassed girlfriend gave her a smooch on the cheek. Swaths of vibrant red rock cliffs and vivid blue skies painted in the background. A caption underneath read “Brunch and a hike with my boo,” followed by a kissing emoji and heart-eyes emoji. 

Eileen got about eight hashtags in before her attention wandered back to the picture. Her eyes flitted back and forth between Emilia’s athletic cleavage, boosted by one of her dozen adorable sports bras, and this new girl’s lips on her cheek. Eileen’s jaw clenched. Her eyes settled on this 13-day-old girlfriend in the sunglasses kissing the girl who wanted to “experience being single again” and “take some time to figure out me.” 

Eileen chucked her phone across the room with a furious shout. It bounced off the wall with a loud knock. She let out a miserable groan, pitching her head back toward the ceiling again. A muffled buzz reached from across the coffee table. 

Shooting up with sudden, deep concern for her phone, she hopped over the coffee table littered with dirty dishes and fished it up from the ground. Another text from Marcie. Longer than the preview this time.

I don’t know. Like, I think it’s really cool that our resident Jesus fangirl thinks so highly of you that she wants to put in a word with the guy in charge. It’s kinda sweet, you know?

Eileen squinted her eyes to reread it. She tilted her head again as she typed back.

You know I don’t believe in God, right?

A short moment later a stream of messages came through, a dozen seconds between them.

Yeah, I know. But she does.

And to her it means everything.

From her perspective she’s calling on legions of angels to look after you

And even if nothing comes of it, she still tried to help you the best way she knew how.

And I kinda wish I could do that. That my damnable atheist ass had anything like that to offer.

Eileen pondered for a moment. Her mind drifted between Marcie and Emilia.

You want to pray?

Her reply only took a few seconds.

Kinda? Yeah.

A while passed before Eileen could think of something to say. She ambled back to her couch and took a seat.

What would that even mean for us? Praying, but without a god?

She leaned forward into her screen, waiting. She resisted the urge to look back at Instagram. Then failed to resist the urge and opened it anyway. Her thumbs twitched above the keyboard, ready to lash out in Emilia’s comments. Or at least subtweet some sweet passive-aggression. A new message from Marcie interrupted her indignation. 

I don’t really think it has to be about worship. Like maybe praying is just someone making themselves humble. By putting something honest out into the world without knowing that any good will come out of it 

But doing it anyway.Its this decision to be hopeful when you have every reason not to be And maybe nobody will hear it but it doesn’t matter because you did it for yourself all along.

Ugh, I’m rambling. Does that make any sense? 

Eileen nodded. She took a deep breath.

Yeah, I think so 

Like leaving a voicemail knowing she wont call back.

Marcie flooded Eileen’s chat with green bubbles over the next minute.

Or doing your best open mic for an empty coffee shop

Or writing nice messages wit sidewalk chalk

Or putting change in the parking meter for the next guy

Or setting a candy bowl on your desk

Or singing bad karaoke with a friend. 

Or going to a support group for the first time

An idea popped into Eileen’s mind. She entered it into the text field.

Posting your first post-break-up selfie.

An excited reply came within seconds.

YES!!!!

DO IT!!

Eileen shook her head and grinned. She held her phone above her head and turned her good side toward the camera. She smiled, wider than she had in a month, and snapped the picture. After a couple quick edits, her finger lingered over the post button. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she tapped the screen like a hot pan. Her held breath tumbled out of her as she switched back to texting.

It’s up :)

A reply ricocheted out of the chat.

YASSSSSS

The Moon filter is a bit dramatic, though ;)

Eileen laughed until her eyes started to water. It had been a long time coming.

Oh fuck off. <3 

“You did it for yourself all along”, right? 

She sighed again, this time in relief. Her shoulders felt like taking her bag off after a long day. Standing up and stacking the bowls, plates, and cups from the living room, she was startled again by the growl of her vibrating phone against the table.

Amen.

Eileen smiled.

Amen.

[halfpricelint]

Autumn May. You see, I worked hard on that. Because names are squiggles and sounds that people make when they mean You. Markings that will also eventually outlive You. On insurance forms, benches, and birthday cards. Yes, life and death are layered deep into the words people came to call Me. With Autumn comes Harvest, sold by the Reaper. While Spring is the cliche of life and growth. So I threw in a twist to keep it fresh: May was my friend who died too young. May's also a month you probably know. Every year at this time I seem to come out. As pan then trans then nonbinary-whatever, every year during May I add a new branch. It's the sun, I think. The weather, the clothes that remind me who I want and who I want to be. It's a perilous time to be pansexual, surrounded by beautiful bodies in bloom. Skin and muscles with the shimmer of sweat that rev up my urges and surges of want. I want to be her--no wait, with her-- wait--how can I even know which? Being a woman, who loves other women, carrying decades of voices calling her male makes lust and envy inseparable forces, like wringing the red and blue paint out of purple. With every second my eyes trace her curves, I can't help but hate her for hogging mine. In May I miss my friend, long gone. I look for her in the roses near the park. Then I search the meadows, trees, and moss for the woman who died when I was born. The girl who I can never be but will always be what I measure myself by. In Spring, she dies every single day as I watch the bikinis and cut-offs arrive. But I suppose the Me I am for now might also be born again somehow? Perhaps I should heed my name's warning to remember there is both all around us. Autumn and May are nature words; I chose them because I'm a hippy. Yet mother earth knows no such labels. Demarcation belongs to humans. I am made of nature and also made up by humans. And like my name, am subject to change.

[halfpricelint]

Satan’s Little Helper, Part IV

Lucifer rose up through the pentagram drawn in the dirt of a now-abandoned campsite in Albany. A troop of boy scouts unsupervised by their scoutmaster, high and asleep in his tent, fled in terror before he could say a word. 

Satan sighed and rotated in place. Three tents sat in a rough semicircle around a red SUV. Between the car and the tents was a still-burning campfire. He shook his head in disappointment. 

“You little shits all better lose your Firem’n Chits.” He rolled his eyes, noting the closeness of the tents to the fire. “If you don’t cook your scoutmaster first.” 

He looked around and found a bucket of water. In one motion he chucked its contents onto the flame, taking satisfaction in the gasps, sizzles, and hissing of extinguishment. He mixed in dirt and more water, making sure the spot was cool and clean before stepping back to the pentagram.

“Did the cold out test for you bitches. You’re welcome.” He stood in place on his portal and bowed. “Or should I say fuhgeddaboudit?”

Falling through the portal, Satan landed back in the portal room of hell. Hans shook his head.

“What?” Lucifer demanded.

“You a boy scout now?” Hans taunted.

“Look, I like to be prepared. Most of my outings are to those little dipshits, so I’ve picked up some useful know-how for dealing with them. I can also do a mean french braid after all the girls’ sleepovers I’ve had to attend. Well, in theory. I’ve never tried.”

“Whatever. Why’d you put out the fire, though? Even if it did get near their tents, that old geezer was too high to notice being burned alive.

“I don’t have to explain myself.” The Devil flatly responded, filling out paperwork on a clipboard describing the time, duration, nature, and result of his visits. “But I don’t need any more assholes around here before their come has come.”

“I just think you’ve gone soft.”

Lucifer slid Sparky out of his cloak pocket, pointed it at Hans, and pulled the trigger. A bolt of energy crackled through the air into the attendant’s chest, hurling him to the ground in a fetal position as he wheezed and retched. Satan didn’t look up from his paperwork. A minute later he released the trigger, placed the clipboard down, and calmly walked out of the room. Hans wept on the floor as the door slammed shut.

When he got back to his office, Satan plopped into his desk chair with a long sigh. The fatigue of a long day set in, but his body couldn’t sleep. It had no such ability, by design.

“No rest for the wicked!” The Holy Ghost had prodded at their last board meeting. “Get it?”

What a dick.

He picked up a few budgetary reports. His headache returned as he considered what could be exploited and what would need to be cut. Heaven has a perfected form of communism, Purgatory a well-managed socialism. But Hell runs on capitalism. 

After a few hours he put all his papers down. He stood and ambled about his chamber. His mind drifted back to Megan. Wondered if she would stay warm enough and when her dad would come back home. He sighed. There was nothing he could do unless she summoned him. Walking back to his desk, he checked his phone. 

No new notifications.

Time turned with the pages of his reports. His eyes flitted between his job and his phone. The longer he worked, the more his sight lingered on the black glass. His chest clenched without his permission. The one night I don’t get any calls.

When phone breaks starting lasting full minutes, Satan jotted some final notes down and put his work away. He sighed and turned toward his computer, flicking it on.

“Fuck, why not?”

Windows Vista took its time booting. Satan wiped sweat from off his brow. Fans inside the hardware screamed in a futile attempt to keep the components cool. At long last, a log-in window appeared. He was prepared to type in the same exact password six times before being logged on.  

A gigantic picture of a penis with some exotic STI greeted him on his desktop. All the programs he kept there had been moved to either side to give him a clear view of the sores and concerning colors.

Very creative, guys.

Some hackers were banned from electronic devices, others were forced to use them. Having to work for a boss on ancient computers was enough to break many souls, and those left were assigned to work on PHP and Javascript dev teams. Satan didn’t know what the second part meant, but he knew it did the trick. The downside was their temper tantrums.

Satan opened two programs: one showing the records from the portal room and another showing projected eternal assignments. Both programs inexplicably opened half a dozen identical windows, which he instinctively closed until there was only one of each. 

He scrolled down the day’s records from the portal room until he found the entry he was looking for.

2017.08699 |  48.09, -105.64  |  Megan Lee Chapman-Firemoon |  19:06  |  Summoning  |  Contact, noncommittal 

Sterile. Clinical. Just how he liked records. The name was the important part. Lucifer ran Megan’s full name through the eternal assignments program and found her family directory.

Mother: Jacqueline Firemoon, assigned to Heaven: Counselor

Father: Richard Chapman, projected to be assigned to Hell

He sighed. Saintly mother and sinful father, as he had gathered from Megan. No siblings for her or her parents. No living grandparents. Taking a deep breath, he clicked on Megan’s name to see her projection.

Megan Chapman-Firemoon, projection unstable

He groaned and picked up his phone, dialing a long series of extensions to route directly to Saint Peter. The line rang several times before a voice came online.

“Hello—”

“Alright, Peter, your nerds need to quit hiding behind their slide rules and give me a definitive answer as to where—”

“You’ve reached the Judgement Department automated phone line.” said a saccharine and robotic voice.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. I dialed the extension. Peter, I know you’re there.”

“Please use the following options on your touch-tone phone to proceed. To hear your own personal assignment statement, please press one. To hear the assignment statement of a family member, please press two. To request the assignment statement of someone outside your immediate family, please press three. To appeal your assignment statement, please press four.”

“Yeah, because that always goes over really well.” Satan scoffed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand in frustration.

“To speak to an operator, please press zero.”

Satan stabbed at the zero button on his screen and put it on speaker. The phone rang once again until another voice spoke. Lucifer pounced on his new audience.

“Alright, listen, this is The Devil himself speaking. Get me your leader or so help me I’ll round up my legions of demons and descend upon your pearly gates in a storm of mighty rage and repressed vengeance that no one has ever—”

“All operators are currently busy. Please hold for one moment.” 

He shrieked and almost threw his phone, but settled himself down. He turned the volume down as cacophonous instrumental music spat out of the speakers. I should tell my music coordinators to replace their misery playlists with this shit.

After nearly a half hour, a new androgynous voice came on the phone.

“Judgement Department customer service speaking. How can I help you?”

Satan sprung to life, caught off guard by the sudden change. He hesitated at first.

“You aren’t going to be another robot are you?”

The voice on the other side of the line laughed. 

“Nope, you’re talking to a real, live angel. How can I help you today?”

Lucifer considered shouting down and intimidating this person, but realized his status as The Devil would probably hurt more than help. Maybe I’ll pretend to be family.

“Hi, um,” He said, as softly and genially as he could muster, “I just received an assignment statement for my daughter still on earth, and it said that their current projection is ‘unstable’? How can I find out where they are going to go when they die?”

“That is an excellent question, sir. May I ask what your name is?” 

“Luci—Lu. Name’s Lu.”

“Hi, Lu. Is your daughter still very young?”

“Uhhh, I think she’s 12?” He cringed. Smooth.

“Well, in the case of very young children, it can be very difficult to determine how they will change over the course of their lives. So unless their behavior is very pronounced, we note that our projections are unstable, rather than choosing a label that may be misleading.”

“I know, I know. But you guys have that big old jack—of all trades. You know, the big guy upstairs? Um, God, I mean?” His heart began to pound in embarrassment and nervousness.

The operator laughed. “Well, our projections are meant to be a comfort to those concerned about loved ones here on earth, not a guarantee of what will happen. We do not consult with the Lord’s omnipotence on these matters unless he finds it necessary to consult with us.”

“Yes, and isn’t that—wonderful.” He caught himself. “Um, is there any way you can check in and see if he finds my daughter’s case necessary to consult with you about?”

They laughed again. “Our Almighty God is omnipotent. He doesn’t need to check in. But I assure you that he is looking out for your daughter with all of his grace, love, and wisdom.”

“Fat lot of good that’s done so far.” Satan mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said I’m very thankful for what you’ve done for me so far! Thanks.” He replied, sticking his tongue out at his own sickening sweetness.

��You’re welcome, Lu. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“Nah.” He paused and sighed, thinking of Megan. “Actually, I do have one.”

“Of course! What is it?” They replied, their perkiness bubbling out of Satan’s phone.

“Could you do my job for me?” He asked, sincere for the first time in their conversation.

They paused and replied very quietly and tenderly. “Oh, are you not happy with where you are? You seem like a very nice person, so you may be eligible for reassignment.”

He stifled a snort. “No, I’m where I need to be. It’s just tiring sometimes, and it’d be nice to take a break.”

“Well that’s understandable. What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m just—” Satan switched into his blood-curdling, distorted, and multiphonic voice register that he used to command armies. “The Father of All Lies, The King of the Damned, The Destroyer of Worlds, and The Consumer of Souls.”

There was silence on the line. 

“I—” They stammered, “I think I better go now. I—I hope you found out everything you n—needed, Mr. Lu.”

Lucifer returned to his sweet voice. “Absolutely, thank you. Have a great day.”

The other end of the phone hung up quickly and he exploded into laughter. Then he remembered Megan. I won’t get anything out of God. Keeps everything to himself. Satan wouldn’t know whether Megan would live in the afterlife with her father, her mother, or neither for quite some time. And not for sure until she died. He feared for the worst.

Satan clicked his phone unlocked.

No new notifications.

[halfpricelint]

Filibuster: Nuzlocke Run, Part IV

“Alright, so Professor Elm just told us Planned Parenthood has the potential to become the Champion. Let’s head out of the lab, catch our first Pokemon, and try to prove him right.” Senator Hayden addressed the congress floor. 

A few more senators from both parties had begun to more intently watch him play Pokemon Silver. He felt their eyes on him. Looking down he saw the hands on his watch show 4:27. Three hours, thirty-three minutes to go. He thought. This filibuster would not be easy.

“Okay, so we talked to our Mom like Professor Elm told us to, and now we can leave on our journey. Let’s catch our first pokemon.”

The character on screen navigated to the left through a path lined with trees. Another character ran up to him from the tall grass and began to speak. Sean groaned as he leaned away from his laptop.

“They make you go through the tutorial on how to catch Pokemon every single time. Even in the newer games.” Sean shook his head. “Well, while this guy drones on, let me remind you of the rules of this Nuzlocke run. I can only catch the first Pokemon I encounter on each route, and if any of my pokemon faint in battle, I can never use them again.”

Sean impatiently pressed the space bar, trying to get past the tutorial as quickly as possible. Wait. I’m trying to burn time. Let this drag on. He slowed down and let the conversation continue at a leisurely pace until it ended.

“Okay, let’s catch our first Pokemon, shall we?”

Senators Mackey and LaBond leaned forward with rapt attention. Senator Shubert snuck brief glances towards the screen as she continued her discussion with a couple of her fellow committee members. Sean’s mentor Juanita Valdez stared at him thoughtfully, unconcerned with what took place in the game. 

Senator Hayden’s character walked into the grass until the screen began to blink and a small mouse appeared on screen.

“And we have a level 2 Rattata.” Sean sighed. 

Mackey groaned and rolled his head back. LaBond smacked his fist against his desk and shook his head down and to the left violently. Shubert sighed slightly before resuming an explanation to her colleagues.

“Well, it’s what we got.” Sean muttered.

After a single attack, the Rattata’s health bar dropped and turned yellow.

“That was easy.” Sean said with a nod. “Time to see if we can catch it.” 

On screen, a ball was thrown at the Rattata and it shook three times before changing color. The screen announced Gotcha! RATTATA was caught! Sean nodded once more.

“Honestly, I was going to be really upset if that didn’t work.”

Mackey and LaBond chuckled. LaBond tapped Mackey on the arm with a backhand motion to get his attention and whispered something into his ear. They both laughed and turned back to Sean. He sighed lightly. Glad somebody’s having fun.

“Okay, so now we need a nickname for this little guy. What should we call it?” Sean tapped his watch with his right index finger. “A lot of people wouldn’t ever catch a tiny rattata like this, but Planned Parenthood did. They’ll extend healthcare, education, and outreach to anyone of any gender. Five million people in fact.”

Slowly, Sean typed out the name FiveMilion. 

“And yes, I know million has two Ls, but there aren’t enough spaces to do that. This will have to do. Anyway, Planned Parenthood now has FiveMilion in their party. Let’s go heal up, train, and get that FiveMilion strong and healthy.”

Sean returned to Professor Elm’s lab to heal his Pokemon. For the next several minutes he ran back and forth in the grass, fighting Pokemon to gain experience points and level up his Rattata. He had to make several trips back and forth to the lab to heal his Pokemon.

“Grinding like this is the tedious part of a run like this. I can’t let anybody in my team faint because then I can’t use them anymore. So I’m trying to be really careful.”

A wild Pidgey used Tackle and cut FiveMilion’s health in half.

“Yeah, it’s definitely time to switch out to Cyndaquil--I mean, Healthcare.”

These fights continued for a few minutes until FiveMilion leveled up to level 5. Sean perked up.

“There we go. That ought to work.”

After walking to and past Cherrygrove City, Sean continued to the next route. 

“Okay, so we’re gonna get another crack at catching a new Pokemon. Very exciting! So who are we gonna get?”

A few steps into the grass, the first pokemon appeared. Another Rattata appeared. LaBond laughed, and Sean shook his head.

“Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen, but I’m going to propose that we modify the rules of the Nuzlocke run so that I’m allowed to catch the first new pokemon I encounter in each area. Mr. President, do you approve?”

The Pro Tem paid him no attention as he sat quietly. Sean loudly cleared his throat.

“Mr. President, do you approve of this change to the proceedings?”

He turned to Sean and stammered silently like a student caught daydreaming in class. Sitting up straight, he took his turn clearing his throat.

“Um, yes. I’ll allow it.” He projected, hoping the sound of authority would compensate for his lack of confidence.

“Thank you, Mr. President.” Sean said gratefully. “Let’s give this another shot.”

Another Pokemon appeared as the screen showed a yellow, cacooned insect. 

“Kakuna.” Sean said, slightly resigned. “Well, we’ll see how this goes.”

Sean’s Rattata took out half the wild Pokemon’s health, and Kakuna used Harden to raise its defense. Must be its only move. Lovely. When Sean threw a Pokeball at it, the Pokeball burst as the Kakuna escaped. It resisted capture from two more Pokeballs.

“Oh jeez. We’re down to our last pokeball.” Sean’s pulse slightly accelerated. “Luckily, its defense has gone was up in the past few turns, so we should be fine to attack it one more time.”

Please don’t crit. Sean took a deep breath as the Rattata tackled the Kakuna, knocking it down to less than a quarter of full health. Sean breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, one last chance to catch it.”

Mackey and LaBond turned to each other nervously. Shubert bit her lip. Sean opened the pack in the game and selected the last pokeball. Who would have thought I’d care this much about a Kakuna? And in this chamber? Is this really happening?

The Pokeball shook three times before finally settling and changing color. The four senators still paying attention let out a collective, relieved sigh. 

“That could have really been bad if I lost my only Pokemon from this route.” Sean admitted. “But we had a good strategy to prevent that. And Planned Parenthood is all about strategy. Eighty percent of Planned Parenthood’s patients get help to prevent unintended pregnancy. The prevent 579, 000 such pregnancies each year. And one of the tools they use is access to effective contraception.”

Sean typed in a new nickname for the Kakuna, CNTRACEPTN. He selected END and pressed the space bar until his character showed up on screen again in the grass. He switched Cntraceptn to the front of his party and walked back to town. While buying potions and pokeballs from the Pokemart, he turned back to the senate floor. A half dozen Democratic and a couple Republican senators watched him with curious expressions. Sean returned to the Pokemon Center to heal his party.

“Well, Planned Parenthood now has Five Million recipients, Healthcare, and Contraception. Let’s see what we can do with that.”

To be continued

[halfpricelint]

Filibuster: Nuzlocke Run, Part III

“Alright, this game is a little bit slow going at first, as you’ve seen so far. We haven’t even gotten any Pokeballs yet.” Senator Sean Hayden admitted to the Senate floor. 

The chamber was now crowded again with delegates ignoring his presentation as they discussed voting on the bill to defund Planned Parenthood. The vote Sean was attempting to prevent. Senator Shubert had left to speak to her colleagues, leaving only Senators Mackey and LaBond still watching Sean play Pokemon Silver

“But with the help of our Cyndaquil nicknamed Healthcare, we went to Mr. Pokemon’s house north of Cherrygrove city and received a mystery egg and a Pokedex from Professor Oak. We got a call from the Professor telling us to run back to our hometown, New Bark Town. Remember, both Professor Oak and Mr. Pokemon told us that he was depending on us, Planned Parenthood. Just like millions of Americans are in the real world.”

Sean’s mentor and fellow Oregonian, Senator Juanita Valdez, cocked her head up from her conversation to raise her eyebrow at him. He shrugged her off and continued playing the game. Juanita returned to her discussion.

“And now we’ve encountered our so far nameless rival. Luckily, we have a few levels on them and a couple healing items, so we should be fine.”

The opposing trainer’s pokemon knocked out half the health of Sean’s Healthcare on its first move.

“Well,” Sean hedged nervously, “We’ll fine as long as Healthcare doesn’t take any more critical hits. I hope the metaphor is not lost on you all.”

A couple chuckles echoed through the room, outnumbered by eye rolls and shaking heads. With a few more turns and the use of a healing potion and berry, PlndPar defeated the rival. The text bubble typed out PlndPar received ₽300 from ???. 

“See?” Sean pointed to the monitor. “Even this children’s game thinks Planned Parenthood deserves money for all the services their Healthcare provides.”

Another wave of shaking heads and rolled eyes swept over the room. Chuckles had decrescendoed into snorts. Undaunted, Sean walked back through the tall grass to New Bark Town, battling each wild pokemon along the way.

“Since we permanently lose a Pokemon any time they faint, it’s a good idea to get them as strong as we can. So that’s why I’m taking on every battle that comes up to get experience points and level up.”

Once his character arrived back at Professor Elm’s laboratory, another character dressed in a police outfit asked him for the name of the young man he had battled, giving Sean a prompt to name his rival.

“Alright, everyone, we need to pick a name for this guy that Planned Parenthood will go toe-to-toe with for the rest of the game.”

“Republicans!” shouted Senator LaBond.

A cheer erupted from a handful of Democrats around the room. Sean shook his head.

“Hey now.” Sean patted the air placatingly. “Planned Parenthood treats anyone, including Republicans. Access to life-changing--or even life-saving--medicine isn’t a partisan right. It’s a human right. And I invite everyone here today, as well as the American people from whom our power stems and ultimately is responsible, to join me in resisting this resolution, HR 354, to remove all funding to Planned Parenthood. In other words--”

Senator Hayden held up a piece of paper to the audience with the number 354 written in block digital format. The chamber had quieted to only whispers. He rotated the sign until it was upside down. Holding the sign up, he typed in HR hSE. 

“Our rival is not Republicans. It is HR 354. And since there aren’t any numbers, we’ll have to pull the upside-down calculator trick. And 354 kinda looks like lowercase-h, capital S, and capital E. Thus, HR hSE.”

Sean hit END on the screen and looked up at his fellow senators. Half a dozen were watching him with curiosity, including Valdez. He took a deep breath.

“Let’s get to work, shall we?”

To Be Continued

[halfpricelint]

Satan’s Little Helper, Part III

“Excuse me?” Satan asked, incredulous. 

“I want you to take my soul.” Megan said. “I don’t have any friends. The white kids think I’m too brown. The Indian kids think I’m too white. Everyone here drinks until the liquor’s on them at their wake. I’m a hundred miles away from the nearest Walmart, and two days by car from anything resembling civilization.”

She sighed. A tear took cover in the corner of her eye.

“I asked God to take me away to somewhere else. He didn’t answer.” She looked up at him pleadingly. “But you did.”

Ah shit. He knelt down, unsure of what to say or do. He softened his voice.

“Look, kid--Megan.” He stammered. “It’s supposed to be hard when you’re a teenager--”

“I’m 12.” She interrupted.

“Okay, well, things are hard when you’re 12. Hell, that’s when most of my kind really start angling towards my side.” He chuckled at his own joke. “But things will get better. You’ll get older. You’ll move out.”

“Yeah, in 2281 days.” She muttered, her eyes beginning to water in earnest. “More than a quarter million seconds I have to wait until I’m 18 and out of high school and I can move out of this fucking black hole that chews me up and spits me out every day.”

Venom bled into her voice with each word. She clenched her jaw and opened her eyes wide to try to stymie her tears. Her spastic breaths punctuated her barely-contained agony. Megan looked back up at Lucifer.

“Please don’t leave me here.”

He let out a whimper of sympathy despite himself. Twisting to sit beside her on the couch, he gulped and took a deep breath.

“I wish I could take you away from here, but the only place I can go is hell.”

Megan snorted. She stared straight ahead.

“Better than here.” 

Satan sighed. He looked around the room again. Dust floated through the twilight colors brushing through the window. The temperature was dropping fast, and he didn’t hear any sound coming from the vents next to the bed. He ran his hands over Megan’s thin, pilled blankets on the mattress.

“It’s warmer there at least.” He mused under his breath. 

Megan laughed, faint lines crossing the skin of her temples. She was too young to have wrinkles. Lucifer looked into her backpack. Law and Chaos leaned against the back, along with a number of library books. There was a crushed disposable water bottle half full of water in a pocket on the side. A strip of leather tied a small beaded horse to one of the front pocket straps. On the interior side of that pocket, a shiny corner of a thin piece of metal poked through the fabric.

He sighed again. What do I do? 

“Where are your parents?” He asked.

“Parent.” She corrected, accenting the t. “Probably gambling again. It is the first of the month. He’ll probably come home around one, maybe two, depending on where the money goes faster: to the bar or to the House.”

She gazed at her backpack for a long moment. Satan frowned. He lifted his hand to put it on her shoulder, but she jumped away. Her eyes shouted panic. Lucifer retracted his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, rubbing his shoulder sheepishly. “Comfort isn’t really in my job description. I’m sure having The Devil touch you is probably a little frightening.”

“Oh, no, it’s not you.” Megan trailed off. “You’re fine, Mr. Devil, Sir.”

Satan snorted and looked down at his hands in his lap.

“Lucifer. Call me Lu if you’d like.”

Megan grinned, still looking straight ahead at nothing. 

“Thanks, Lu.”

They sat in silence. The room slid into darkness as the sun passed the horizon. Megan dutifully stood up to turn on the flickering, exposed ceiling light. She sat back down and sighed. She pulled a small black plastic phone out of her pocket and slid it open to expose a wide physical keyboard. “No new messages,” announced the pixelated screen. Satan reflexively pulled out his phone. He groaned.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, admiring the shiny glass and vivid display. 

Satan stood up. “I’ve got another summoning. I have to go.”

She smiled compassionately at him, but her eyes glistened. 

“I understand. Gotta do your job, right?”

“Yeah,” He chuckled. “Hey, uh, it was nice to meet you, Megan.”

“Likewise, Lu.”

Satan turned and walked toward the pentagram drawn on a piece of notebook paper in pencil. The circle was perfectly round, the star precisely inscribed with all equal sides. He inaudibly gasped. It’s perfect.

“How did you make this?”

“What?” She seemed confused until she walked over to him. “Oh, compass and straight edge. Well, I don’t have a compass, but I have two pencils and a string that do the trick. Top side of my binder is still roughly straight, so that part was easy.”

He smiled and shook his head. She looked up at him, concerned.

“What? Did I mess something up?”

“Oh, no.” Lu reassured her. “It’s wonderful.”

She blushed and rubbed her neck with her right hand, looking away.

“Oh, uh, thanks. I try.”

Do I really have to go? The tug of the summoning destabilized his equilibrium. Like the feeling of a stair being lower than you expect. He felt pulled down, and he needed to touch the ground to feel complete again. I have to.

Lucifer stepped next to the pentagram and looked at Megan one last time.

“Hey,” He blurted out. 

She looked back up at him in surprise.

“If you ever need anything,” He pieced the words together slowly. “I have to come whenever one of these guys gets drawn. You know, gotta do my job, right?”

“Yeah. Got it.” Megan laughed. She beamed at him. “Thanks, Lu.”

“Any time, Megan.”

Satan stepped on top of the drawing and fell back through the portal into Hell. Megan knelt by the piece of paper and examined it. There was nothing unusual about it. Picking the paper up, she touched the drawing. She retracted her finger immediately out of instinct, but nothing happened. She sighed.

She turned off the bedroom light and dawdled back to her bed in the dark. Folding her drawing into quarters, she tucked it into the front pocket of her backpack. She zipped the pocket shut, and the beaded horse fell back on top.

Megan ran her thumb over the beads on the ornament. She let out a wistful sigh before falling asleep.

[halfpricelint]

Satan’s Little Helper, Part II

Summonings, like much of Satan’s duties, had became mundane over the millennia. At first, he had put great effort into his performances. The finest writers in his domain composed oratory for each occasion. These speeches were then intentionally flubbed by Satan on the fly to punish the writers. So it goes in Hell.

These commissions became inconvenient to arrange as occult fell into the hands of drunk sorority sisters and preteen summer camps. Sometimes he would try to spook his audience for fun. Other times he would try to entertain himself with some improvised dramatic monologue. For the past couple centuries, he had settled on the deadpan approach. 

What do you want? He’d say nonchalantly while ascending out of a pentagram. This was typically met with screams and frantic prayers spoken during hurried exits. Most of the time, nobody was left, and Satan felt free to leave.

Occasionally, some would stay to chat. They may voice their surprise that he really did come. Well yeah, it’s my job. Now what do you want?

He offered each person a wish. Most all of them dreadfully boring: sex, money, power, status, and the like. Strangely, many of them lately seemed to involve a fiddling competition with ill-defined rules and odd references to Georgia. Instrumental or not, Satan negotiated a deal of that wish in exchange for the person’s soul. 

Not many took the deal, and those who did never bothered to read the contract. If they had, they might have noticed the absence of liability for Satan following through on his promise. He viewed promises more under the purview of his colleagues in the clouds. Also, Hell contains many of the finest lawyers from all of history. 

Satan thought through what he could say when he emerged this time. It had been a while since the last summoning, so he felt rusty. He decided to stick to his classic line as the world on the other side of the portal materialized. He closed his eyes for dramatic effect until his feet finally touched new ground.

“What do you want?” He mumbled.

He opened his eyes and saw nobody in front of him. He rotated to inspect a small, mostly empty bedroom. A cloudy dusk light filtered through the windows without blinds or curtains. Cracks in the wall spread out like spider webs. There was a small mattress on the floor with a purple backpack and a stack of books beside it. 

Dammit, Hans. Must have gotten here too late. Waste of my time.

A toilet flushed from the other side of one wall. Satan whipped around to face the sound’s source. He wasn’t accustomed to being on this side of a jump scare. A gurgle came from a facet on the other side, followed by the jostling of a loose doorknob being turned. The splintered wood floors groaned under footsteps coming towards the room where Satan stood. 

He briefly panicked. Okay, second chance at a first impression here. Let’s make it count. Settling on nonchalance again, he placed one hand on his hip and held the other in front of him, looking down at his nails. He let his tail droop behind him and projected his best impression of teenage apathy. His heartbeat picked up as he heard the knob of the door in front him rattle. The door swept open.

“So,” Satan began in his most gravelly voice, “What do you want?”

He waited for a scream or gasp. Instead, he was met with a high and lilting voice of curiosity.

“I thought you’d be taller.”

Satan stood up straight with indignation. He set his eyes on the person who had mocked him, a tween girl that came up to his elbows. His eyes narrowed. He strode toward her with a scowl and eyes filled with fire.

“You dare to taunt me, child?” He growled. “I am The Devil, Destroyer of Worlds. God of the underworld and tormentor of souls.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The girl walked past him toward her bed. “I just thought you’d be taller. Lucifer, I presume? May I call you Lu?”

The Devil roared, taken aback by her temerity. The walls shook from his furious cry. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

“You have no idea what powers you mock, child.” He whispered.

“My name’s Megan, actually.”

Megan sat crisscross on her mattress. She placed her hands in her lap and looked up at Satan. He turned to face her, perplexed. Well this is new.

“Okay,” He restarted, “You have no idea what powers you mock, Megan.”

She shrugged. Then she dug her hand into her backpack and pulled out a hefty tome titled Law and Chaos of the Occult. 

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually.” She pointed to the front cover.

“Let me see that.”

Satan stepped toward her and extended his hand toward the text. She didn’t flinch as he snatched the book from her grip. He flipped through the pages, skimming pages and muttering snippets of sentences out loud.

“See, you can’t trust everything you read, kid. Tarot? Straight flush of nonsense. Astrology? Playing connect-the-dots with the stars. And look at this terrible run-on comma splice here. It’s nearly a full damn paragraph.”

“Oh, yeah, is that page 316?” Megan lifted her head to peer over the book. “And, yeah, it also says you have a commanding figure and three eyes.”

“You continue to insult me, child?” Lucifer bellowed. “I have made warriors weep and rulers gnash their teeth. Do you think I’m not a match for a little girl?”

“I told you, my name’s Megan.” She deflected, taking her book back from Satan and setting it gently back in her bag. “And yours is Satan. Your job is to punish the wicked for their sins. So if I have sinned, by all means, do as you are obliged.”

Satan took a step back. He softened his expression. Thousands of years had trained him to spot wickedness on sight. To sniff it out like a hound. Swoop in on it like a hawk. Vivisect and eviscerate every pinpoint of pain. Extract guilt like juice from the vine. This girl had no such thing. Even her jabs at him were in jest and honest curiosity, not malice. Darkness permeated every surface of this building, but not her. Who is this girl? He lowered and roughened his voice.

“Let’s cut to the chase here, Megan. What did you call me here for? That part in your book about granting a wish is true. But so is the part where I take your soul in exchange. Does that sound worth it?”

Megan took a deep breath and let out a sharp sigh. 

“Yeah, think so.”

This doesn’t feel right. He couldn’t fathom what would possibly possess a bright, vibrant girl like her to sign away her soul to him.

“Alright,” He hesitated, “What is your wish?”

Megan shook her hands in front of her in protest.

“Oh no, I don’t have a wish.”

Satan turned his head to the side and stared at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I just think it sounds nice to give my soul away.”

[halfpricelint]

Fillibuster: Nuzlocke Run, Part II

“Now, I always choose Cyndaquil when play this game.” Senator Sean Hayden explained. “Because its final evolution, Typhlosion, is my favorite pokemon of all time. Also, there aren’t many fire types in the wild at the beginning. Having Ember also makes the Bellsprout tower a breeze later on.”

The three remaining senators in the room nodded their heads enthusiastically. One of them flicked her eyes back and forth between her laptop and the flat screen TV on the senate floor. The other two crowded behind her, nodding and studying the stats on Cyndaquil from the PokemonDB website.

Sean continued, “But this is a Nuzlocke run, so I have to pick my starter based on the Trainer ID.” 

Senator LaBond gasped. Senator Mackey lifted her head toward the TV and widened her eyes, and Senator Shubert covered his mouth with his hands. 

“Okay, so we’re gonna talk to Professor Elm here.”

Sean’s character walked up to a bespectacled man and started a conversation. PlndPar! There you are! The professor exclaimed. LaBond, Shubert, and Hayden all laughed. Mackey let out a single chuckle.

“Yeah, so he’s gonna talk for a while here. Something about a favor...” Sean muttered, reading snippets of the professor’s dialog at a time before trailing off each time. He looked back up at the nearly-empty senate chamber. “You know who else does a lot of favors for good people? Planned Parenthood.”

Senator Shubert snorted while her two colleagues applauded. The Pro Tem rolled his eyes as he continued talking to another delegate.

“Professor Elm here gives Planned Parenthood what they need to continue their mission. And we ought to do the same.”

The two more vocal audience members hollered their approval. Even Shubert smiled.

“Anyway, Elm’s done, so we need to look at our Trainer ID to decide what our starter is going to be. If it ends in 0-3, we go with the Grass type. 4-6 is Fire, and 7-9 is Water. First we open the menu and go to ‘PlndPar.’ And we have--” Sean pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! 52124! We’re getting Cyndaquil!”

LaBond and Shubert pumped their fists as well. Shubert shook her head, but smiled.

“Alright,” Sean continued. “I think it’s about time that we left town.”

To Be Continued

[halfpricelint]

Satan’s Little Helper, Part I

A small blue LED ticked on and off from the top of the smartphone. The Devil turned his attention from his paperwork to the shining black surface. He took a deep breath. 

It can wait. Probably just one of the Holy Ghost’s damn chain letters. 

He turned back to the neat and tidy rows and columns of printed out spreadsheets and forms. Aides had tried to get him to go digital for decades now, but he wasn’t about to ruin a millennia-old system. This did nothing to stem the tide of tech-savvy sinners badgering him to change. After all, this was hell.

The LED kept blinking. Satan shook his head and rotated in his chair away from the annoyance. Even with it out of sight, he could see it flashing in his mind. A metronome tap-tap-tapping away in a rhythm out of sync with his heartbeat. That lumpy meat pump–the one his colleagues said he didn’t have–tried in vain to catch up with the rhythm. He felt a bead of sweat pool around the base of his horns.

“Fuck it.” He groaned. 

Lucifer set the documents down in order before reaching for his phone. With a click of the home button, the screen lit up to reveal a notification bubble.

“New Summoning Requested.” It read.

Satan pitched his head up toward the ceiling and grunted in exasperation. God and Jesus got to choose their gigs and which prayers to answer. He had to answer at the beck and call of anyone with a mastery of stars and circles.

With a long sigh he pushed himself away from the table and out of his office chair. His back ached. A migraine pounded at his eyes and forehead from the inside. Lucifer grabbed his cloak from a coat rack and stomped out of his chambers.

Down the hallway there was a room. Inside stood a stout and sturdy soul manning the portal between Hell and Earth. He fidgeted violently. In an afterlife where sleep and time don’t exist, boredom is a useful means of torture. An eternity with only guilt for entertainment was sufficient to punish most souls. As Satan opened the room, the attendant chuckled under a labored sigh.

“I get to do something? How wonderful.”

“Yes,” Satan replied, “I need to visit a summoning.”

He slid his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. Turning away from the fascinated eyes of the portal guard, he tapped the notification to see where the summoning had occurred. Somewhere in the middle of Montana. Another tap revealed the coordinates, which Satan showed the attendant.

“Yeah, alright.” The attendant grunted.

Lucifer waited for the spirit to do something, but they both stood in silence.

“Take me to this place. To these coordinates.” He demanded.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“I don’t care.”

“You make us all do your bidding and then you torture us for it.”

“Well, yeah.” Satan shrugged. “This is Hell. What did you expect? Now open the portal.”

“I don’t want to.”

The migraine throbbed through Satan’s head. He placed his hand in the pocket of his cloak and fingered the trigger of a device. It was designed to inflict massive spiritual pain. Like sticking a finger into a light socket on earth, but through the soul. He had nicknamed it “Sparky.” When he was younger, the Devil used Sparky often. These days, he used more precise methods.

“Then you really should have thought of that before you cheated on your wife with a third-grader, Hans. By the way, she’s here, too. Mostly thanks to the damage you did to her. Shall I arrange a reunion party for the two of you?”

“Oh go fuck yourself.”

“I’m fine, but maybe you should have considered that option back on earth. Probably would have saved you all of this.”

Hans’ eyebrow flinched. Satan grinned cruelly and stepped toward Hans, backing him against the wall and towering over him. 

“Do you know why I station you here, Hans? Not because I need you to open the portal. I can do that on my own. I put you here so you can watch me travel across the entire world, exploring destinations you always dreamed of on earth. Every site you wanted to see, every mountain you wanted to climb, every shore you saw from your ship but never visited.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning even closer to a squirming Hans. “I want you to watch me beat you to every last one of them. To know I got there first. To know that I’m a better explorer than you.”

Hans tried to spit in the Devils face, but nothing emerged from his incorporeal form. The return to reality seemed to hollow him out somehow. Even more so when the tears couldn’t come either. Satan grinned and took a step back, folding his arms.

“Ah, masculinity is a funny thing. No shame at wounding your wife or raping a child, but chip away at a man’s ego and he crumbles.” Satan stepped back under the portal and touched the round frame with his hand, unlocking the machine in the process. “Now be a dear and do the one thing you can do for the rest of eternity.”

Hans continued sobbing, tearless and snotless. He punched in the numbers from the phone, and the machine roared to life. Satan smiled and turned to Hans.

“What a good boy. I’ll be sure to get you something from the gift shop.”

Satan pulled the portal down over himself calmly. Hans wasn’t the first soul he’d decimated. He took less satisfaction from the pain he had caused as much as the completion of a job well done. 

My job is to punish the wicked. He reminded himself. And I’m good at it.

[halfpricelint]

Santa Claus: Paws Division, Part II

“Now show me your client directories.” Grindel sneered from beneath his bright red stocking. 

Bunny ears suck crookedly out the side from hastily-sewed seams. 

 "Our what? We just have a map of all the Christian families for each district.“

 "No No No No NO!” Grindel screeched, slamming his jingle-bell cuff links against the table. He took out a green and red striped pen, scratching notes into a notepad with a pine tree watermark. “Well, we will need to requisition a directory of every household with children from HQ. Also an adjacency matrix indicating how each node can be accessed via the others. We’ll run it through the TSP algorithms and find an optimal path. The engineers will need to adjust it to–” Grindel paused to leer at Scamps, “‘Non-aviary distribution methods.’ But that’s what those code monkeys get paid to do." 

Scamps tilted his head and twitched his nose in confusion. 

 "But, Mr. Grindel, Easter is a Christian holiday." 

 "Yeah, so what?" 

 "So in the past, we’ve only delivered candy baskets–erm, Vernal Holiday Product Bundles–to Christian homes." 

 "Yeah? And who’s the company that got bought for a carrot and a cadbury egg? Oh yeah, that’d be you lot.” Grindel snorted. “We need to expand our clientele. Can’t sustain a pan-national festive commodities conglomerate on just Christians anymore." 

 "But–” Scamps interjected, “Isn’t Christ kind of in your–sorry, our parent company’s–name?" 

 "Oh for fuck’s sake.” Grindel groaned, bending backward towards the ceiling. “We rebranded over a century ago. Bought out Coca Cola, Mall performers unions, and Hallmark to run secular ads. Even tried changing up the name to X-mas, but those goddamn church-going hens will not shut up about about their damn deity. When will they just take the hint already?" 

 Grindel shook his head and walked forward. Scamps hopped behind, a frown settling into his lips. 

 "Of course, we will also need to talk to the buyers about getting your materials from our list of contractors. We only have four months to go, Scraps. Can you make this work?" 

 Scamps bristled at the third time Grindel had said his name wrong. It was starting to feel personal. But, he needed this job. Many of his friends hadn’t been so lucky to keep theirs. 

 "Yes, Mr. Grindel. Anything for SCPD.”

[halfpricelint]

Filibuster: Nuzlocke Run, Part I

“We call Senator Hayden of Oregon to the floor.”

The junior senator stood from his seat and made his way to the front of the chamber. A gaggle of staffers worked behind the laptop from his office, connecting it to a large flatscreen TV on a rolling cart. Senator Sean Hayden tapped his forefinger against his smartwatch. His eyes darted between the display equipment and his fellow delegates. 

Why am I impatient? Sean asked himself. The whole point is to filibuster. Technical difficulties actually help me. We even told the staff to take their time. Let them do their job.

Sean glanced nervously at his fellow statesman from Oregon. She nodded thoughtfully at him. 

“It will be okay.” Senator Valdez had told him. “You just have to hold the floor and not yield your time. That’s all you have to do.”

She was a veteran in battle. This was her third consecutive term, and she had clawed and bit the most fiery of adversaries into submission. In the last session, the Minority Whip came to convince her to flip her vote and instead left crying with his own vote flipped. Twenty years of running a cattle ranch in a drought apparently weren’t enough to prepare him for the wrath of Juanita.

This was Sean’s first year in the Senate. Only his third in DC, after a short and quiet term in the House. The room was smaller, but he didn’t feel any larger inside it. 

His fellow Democrats had done all they could to stop the full dismantling of Planned Parenthood. All they could do was stall the vote. Juanita had charged Sean with taking up the next four hours until Senator Jones from New York could return to DC and take the podium. She said he would think of something to take up time. 

“Sir.” A young man with a crew cut tapped him on the shoulder and handed the senator a remote. “The laptop is ready. Press this button to broadcast the laptop display and sound to the TV. To make the window fullscreen, just tap–”

“Alt-Enter, I know.” Sean smiled at him and put his hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “Thank you, James. But this happens to be the only thing I will actually know how to do tonight.”

James smiled. 

“Good luck, Sir. Have fun or something.”

Sean snorted and shook his head. He took a deep breath and looked back at the assembly in front of him. His eyes traced the outline of his comrades, avoiding those of his opposition. Valdez showed no reaction.

“Mr. Hayden,” The Pro Tem urged. “Please begin your presentation.”

Sean took another deep breath and adjusted his tie. You can do this.

“Thank you, Mr. President.” Sean began, nodding toward the presiding officer. “As you all know, Planned Parenthood is an incredible resource for millions of our citizens. As my marvelous colleagues have pointed out, it provides not only reproductive planning services for the people we serve, but also health screenings such as pap smears and breast exams. They provide preventative care that saves money on healthcare spending in the long run and healthcare for those who cannot afford other options. We must continue to fund and maintain this program for the safety and health of our many citizens. I implore you all to vote for the continued support of this fine institution.”

Sean coughed into his elbow, realizing his throat was already getting dry. This is gonna be a long night.

“Now, if you will indulge me, I would like to discuss a matter of procedure for my following presentation.”

Sean pressed Alt-Enter on the laptop and then a button on the remote James had given him, broadcasting a screen showing the opening credits of the original Pokemon Silver gameboy color game. The TV came to life with a chiptune theme song flying from its speakers. A chorus of groans and boos erupted from the Republican senators. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I remind you that the floor is mine. This is in the rules of our assembly, which I should hope you have all read.” Sean cleared his throat. “Speaking of rules, I will quickly go over the rules of the game I will be playing. For those of you who aren’t aware, Pokemon is a Role-Playing Video Game where the main character catches and raises monsters called Pokemon to travel the world and compete in Pokemon battles to rise through the ranks and become the world’s best Pokemon Trainer. Let’s begin.”

Sean pressed the space bar, and the game left the opening animation and opened the menu. He chose to start a new game and then turned back to the delegates, many of whom were leaving the chamber or conversing amongst themselves. Two of his fellow statesmen leaned forward on their desks. Excitement shone through their eyes as nostalgia washed over them.

“Alright, so I’m actually going to modify this game a little to make things more interesting. I’m going to attempt what’s called a Nuzlocke run.” 

“Yes!” shouted Senator LaBond from Louisiana. 

“Mr. LaBond, please contain yourself.” The Pro Tem interjected. “Mr. Hayden, I don’t see how this is relevant to the matters at hand–”

“Mr. President, need I remind you of procedures once more? And I assure you, this game is extremely relevant to the matter at hand.”

The presiding officer rolled his eyes and gestured for Sean to resume his presentation.

“As I was saying,” Senator Hayden continued, “A Nuzlocke run adds extra restrictions to how you play the game. In particular, I am only allowed to catch the first pokemon I encounter on each route and I must release all pokemon who faint in battle. That is, once a party member has fainted, I can never use it again. This makes the game much more challenging as you shall soon see.”

With another press of the space bar, an image of a man in a lab coat appeared on screen.

“Ah, here we have Professor Oak. I normally skip through this part, but I’ll go slow so you can read it. Okay, now we need to set the time, which is,” Sean glanced at his watch, “4:15.”

It’s only been 15 minutes? Oh jeez.

“Alright, so this early in the series you actually can’t choose the gender of your avatar. That wouldn’t come until the special edition of this generation of games, Crystal. It made some minor tweaks to the Gold/Silver versions, but I still prefer the originals myself.”

“Hear hear!” Senator Shubert from Illinois called out.

The President Pro Tem glared at him.

“You know what?” Sean paused for a second. He noticed all the Republican senators had left the room by now, along with several of his fellow party members. “I can set up a twitch chat so y’all can join in without breaking parliamentary procedures. Here, let me set that up.”

Sean turned off the TV display, pulled out of full screen, and logged into his Twitch account. He set up the windows so that both the game and the chat were open. Even the Pro Tem had turned to speak to his colleagues, ignoring the floor. Turning the monitor back on, he turned to the three congress members still paying attention to his presentation.

“My handle is RedPlanetRover, if you want to join in.” 

Each of them nodded, pulling out their phones with an overeager giddiness. Messages began popping up on the screen.

JustBlake: Throwback!

HoboCop: O the nostalgia chills…

DragonDome: This is amazing

HoboCop: What are you gonna name the character?

Sean shook his head, a smirk appearing on his face.

“You know, that last part is a good question. What should this handsome chap’s name be?”

Responses came in the feed.

DragonDome: go classic with silver?

HoboCop: dems for hero and reps for rival?

JustBlake: I always just did my name lol

“You know,” Sean considered the screen as more messages flowed in. “I think I have a better idea.”

Sean used the asdf keys on his keyboard to move the cursor and spell out PlndPar. 

“Alright, I can’t fit the whole thing in there, but you get the idea.”

A message entered the chat area from a new user.

VampireDick: thats what she sad

Suddenly messages started flooding into the feed as Sean continued the opening sequence of the game.

HotToxic: senates playin pokemon now? iv seen everything

Roomerang: So this is why they can’t get anything done

GingerJeans: lol maybe I need 2 run for senate

HitlersMyHomie: FUCK PLANED PARENTHOD

HitlersMyHomie: FUCK YOU HAYDEN

HitlersMyHomie: JEWS DIE DIE DIE

GingerJeans: What the fuck, man?

HitlersMyHomie: FUCKKING LIBERALS

HitlersMyHomie: FUCKKING LIBERALS

HitlersMyHomie: FUCKKING LIBERALS

HitlersMyHomie: FUCKKING LIBERALS

DragonDome: Maybe we should close the chat…

“Yeah, Dragondome, you might be right.” Sean trailed off. He closed out the window with the Twitch Chat. 

“Awwww,” The three spectators whined. The Pro Tem didn’t bother to scold them.

“Sorry, y’all. We gave it a try.” Sean finally got past the tutorial steps of the game. “On the plus side, we get to choose a starter now!”

TO BE CONTINUED

[halfpricelint]

I bought a dress the other day. It looked so gorgeous on the mannequin. And when I wrapped myself up In the flowy, blue fabric And spun to myself in the dressing room, I cried tears of joy. I loved myself once, And it happened again. That frilly, blue dress brought me hope. So I brought it home.

I put it on this morning. The first rays of sunshine lit its seams. And I wanted to feel as I did in the store, But nothing happens twice, At least not exactly. My bare shoulders looked bulky in the bedroom mirror. I saw the barel in my torso, instead of the hourglass. And I wanted to feel beautiful, Like the mannequin. But I only looked the first part: man.

That dress is still poisoned; The toxins wouldn’t wash out. Maybe one day I’ll wear it again though Because nothing happens twice. Not exactly.

[halfpricelint]

Can we talk about how a day can't go by without a pretentious prick telling off somebody for misusing the word "literally," but people get carte blanche to butcher the words "slave, addicted, oppression, depressed, bipolar, OCD, feminism, socialism, theory, and opinion" in ways to marginalize and invalidate others?

[halfpricelint]

You look so good, I want to sprinkle you on my food. If I could I would eat you, like a five year old eats glue.

Hank Green (via hankgreenoutofcontext)