"Are you gonna finish that?" asked Satan, stretching an arm dressed in circling embattlements towards the plate beside him. The man whom the plate happened to belong to was, surprisingly enough, sat right behind it, and flicked his hand out with a quick swish and a slap to deter Satan's prying fingers. He immediately cried out and drew his hand to his mouth. Beside him Satan snickered as he guzzled down half of his glass of oil.
"Damn your spiky fingers," cried Joseph, who if you haven't realized by now was the man who was sat behind the plate of which Satan tried to scrounge from.
"Language Joseph," came a soft lyrical voice from the other end of the long dining table. "Be careful what you damn, for damning something that is already damned is like multiplying a negative by a negative." Joseph's brow furrowed as he tried to figure the meaning of it.
"A negative plus a negative makes a positive dumb ass," shouted a young boy from across the table. He laughed cockily to himself and high fived Satan over the salt cellar. He screamed as their palms connected and clutched his hand as he saw blood trickle from his palm. "Fuck! That's some fucked up skin you got dude," he glowered at Satan with menacing eyes before wrapping a napkin around his injured hand. "What the hell are you supposed to be anyway?"
Satan rolled his eyes and glanced knowingly down the table towards the older members of the party. "Kids these days, so bloody ignorant," he muttered.
"I'm 5,000 years old. I'm not a kid," the boy answered back.
"Yea.... when you stop getting acne, then you can join the big boys club," laughed Satan.
"Come on Lucy, don't be a grumpy guts," came the lyrical voice again from the other end of the table. Satan leaned forward and peered down the length of the dinner table to meet eyes with a man dressed as a giant cross. Being called Lucy (short for Lucifer of course) was one of his pet peeves, and the cross knew it.
"This coming from a man who dresses as a cross..... every year..... for two hundred and twelve years," Satan mocked.
"Hey," the cross said sternly. "If you went through what I went through you'd be afraid of them too!"
"Ironic isn't it, how they use crosses to frighten off vampires and such.... when it would work equally well on Jesus himself too," joked Satan.
The face of Jesus reddened in the small hole cut in the intersection of the cross, "Well at least I don't have to spend my Sundays peeling off another layer of blisters from my feet."
"You know what, it's actually quite therapeutic," muttered Satan. "I collect all the puss and dead skin and at the end of every month hold a bingo tournement to see who wins the honour of scoffing it all down."
Jesus looked about to vomit for a second before waving his hand at Satan and dismissing the argument. "What are you supposed to be anyway?"
Satan sighed, shoving his chair back from the table and stepping away from them all so that they could get a good look. "Come on," he moaned after several seconds of silence followed. Encircling his arms, legs and torso were large black towers and embattlements, atop each shoulder was a watch tower, and above his head, suspended by two huge horns of black stone was a giant eye of fire.
"Could you give us a hint?" asked Joseph.
"Fine," he sighed. Raising his arms to the sky and assuming a dramatic pose he began to chant in a deep voice, "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them!"
"Was that from an episode of The Simpsons?" asked the boy. Satan let out an exasperated yelp and glared at them all.
"Oh no, wait wait wait," Joseph stuttered excitedly. "It's from that World of Warcraft thing!"
"No.... it is NOT from that World of Warcraft thing. It is from The Lord of the Rings," he growled.
"Ohhhhhh," all the guests exclaimed at once.
"I am the tower of Barad-dur! With the eye of Sauron at it's top," he said, pointing to the eye hovering above his head.
"Ohhhhh," the guests exclaimed once more.
Satan stood for a second or two so that they could all admire his handiwork before sliding back into his chair once more and shuffling forward to the table. He looked sideways at Joseph and took in the long, dark, floppy hair, the white shirt and black trousers, the wide grin plastered on his face. "And what in hell are you supposed to be?"
"Andrew Lloyd Webber," he answered, almost spitting out the words. Satan looked quizzically across the table at Muhammad who shrugged and returned to his food. "Have you seen what he's done to my life story?" Joseph asked. "Joseph and his amazing technicolour dreamcoat! Why don't you just slap me with glitter and call me gay already."
"Ohhh yes," Satan cried. "I have it playing on loop in one of the skin grafting salons downstairs."
"I'm glad someone's found a use for it," Joseph sneered. "I contemplated popping by Andrew's house house and punching him for every colour he quoted in that song about my coat he wrote."
"Come on," laughed Jesus. "That's nothing to the psychopathic machete he took to my story."
"I quite liked that actually," Satan interrupted.
"So did Judas," Jesus added, shrugging in a what can you do kind of way. "I think he likes the fact that everyone sees him as a bad boy, even though he's as golden as the sky is blue. He sings that "Jesus Christ Superstar" song every day in the shower now, pretending he's a rock star."
"I'm sorry," interrupted Muhammad. "No-one has ever explained this to me, why is Judas in heavan?"
"Aren't you supposed to be a prophet?" sneered the young boy. Another boy who was sitting next to him, who happened to look remarkably alike to him, cut in, "A prophet tells the future not the past, dumbass."
"Hey fuck you mummy's boy," the other boy spat.
"Please," said Muhammad, raising his voice only slightly. "Abel, Cain, I don't wish to be the cause of another argument like last year."
"That was -" started Cain only to be silenced by a finger from Muhammed.
"It doesn't matter," he said turning to Jesus once more. "So.... please, exlain this to me."
"Well you know how everybody loves someone to hate," Jesus began. "He seemed to be the appropriate choice as most of the others didn't like him to begin with. I think it's because he smelt bad. Well, whatever the reason, he seemed to be ideally placed to be hated. I needed someone to betray me, and I knew all the others didn't have the guts to do it, so I asked Judas to."
"So you asked him to betray you," clarified Muhammed.
"Yes," answered Jesus. "Hence why he is in heaven now playing with a pool full of puppies."
"A pool full of puppies?" Satan asked. "Surely he'd crush about twenty of them diving in." Jesus gave him a hard stare, refusing to rise to the bait.
"Can anyone guess what I've come as?" Muhammad asked proudly.
"O-..ma B-... a-en," Joseph tried to shout out with a mouth full of potatoes.
"Joseph don't speak with your mouth full," Jesus scorned.
"I think he said, "Osama Bin Laden,"," Moses helpfully told them.
"Hm! HmHmmm!" muffled Joseph nodding his head. Muhamed looked slightly dissapointed that they had guessed it so soon.
"You're afraid of that guy?" asked Satan.
"That man has done worse for me than evolution did for the Pleiosaur," Muhammed told him.
"A what?" asked Satan.
"Precisely," said Muhammad. "How is he doing anyway?"
"Who?" asked Satan, confused.
"Osama of course, who esle?"
"How should I know?"
"Because he died this year," Muhammad reminded him. "And I know he's not in heaven."
"Well he's not in hell," Satan told him resolutely. "I've been saving an especially large cactus branch for him."
"It would seem then," Moses interjected. "That he is, infact, still alive, and not yet dead."
"You and your conspiracy theories," muttered Joseph. "First it was the Egyptians, now it's the Americans."
"Well if he's not still alive then where is he?" asked Moses, jutting his face out over the table.
"He could be here," offered Abel.
"In Purgatory?" asked Satan. "Why would he be here? No-one but advertisement executives end up here nowadays. And even then not all of those. Speaking of which, I just opened a new land, it's called "The Amazing Power of Disollution and Disappointment Land"."
"Doesn't really roll off the tongue does it?" said Joseph.
"That's the point," Satan told him. "All of my lands have annoyingly long names, and if you don't say the whole name every time you refer to it then an over-grown walking stick wanders over and smacks you in the shin."
"How can a walking stick wander?" asked a skeptical Cain.
"It's a walking stick.... it walks," answered Satan with a wry smile. "Are you gonna eat that?" he asked turning to Joseph once more.
"Yes, yes, for the last time yes!" he shreiked. Beside him Satan giggled with mirth as Joseph flapped his arms out in annoyance.
"Don't rise to it Joseph," Jesus' voice wafted over. "You'll only encourage him."
"Where's the big man anyway?" asked Satan.
"I'm here as his representative," answered Jesus. "He never comes, you know that."
"I thought he was supposed to be everywhere," Abel pointed out.
"He is," answered Moses.
"Then he is here," continued Abel logically.
"I think he's hiding in the salt cellar," whispered Satan.
"He must be here if he is everywhere," said Abel.
"He's a shy guy," Satan told him.
"He is here, there and yes, everywhere," Jesus put forward.
"Then where is he?" asked Abel.
"Here, there and everywhere. I just told you," answered Jesus.
"You know what I mean," said Abel.
Jesus sighed, as of one who is tired of answering the same question to a hundred people in the space of five minutes, "He is, by nature, in all things. He is within you, me, even our deranged friend over there dressed as a battle tower. He was in fact right when he said that he was in the salt cellar, he's in the napkins too. He is what holds you together, the web upon which reality rests. He may, on occasion, manifest his will in a physical form to make a dramatic effect," he glanced at Moses as he said this. "But usually he lets his universe speak for itself."
"Basicaly, he couldn't think of anything to come as," joked Satan.
"Actually, he's always come as something, you've just been too dense to notice," Jesus pointed out.
"He's the salt cellar, isn't he?" Satan grinned.
"He comes as nothing," Jesus told him. Satan's grin wavered as he struggled to understand.
"He is afraid of nothing, and as such he comes as nothing. So he is not here," he explained.
"Except that he is," pointed out Abel.
"Except that," agreed Jesus.
"Couldn't he just be normal for once and come as a headless bunny?" asked Satan.
"You would consider that normal would you?" Joseph asked.
"You gonna eat that?" Satan replied. Joseph's hand monentarily wandered to his fork before he mastered himself once more with a deep breath.
"It's your turn to sit next to him next year," he said, pointing across the table at Moses.
"I know," Moses sighed, his face contorting as he thought of the pain to come.
"You might be interested to know that I have my own thoery about the whole burning bush thing," said Satan.
Moses glanced up at him, "Please," he said, gesturing him to continue.
"You say God came to you as a burning bush, bollocks. Burning bush is just another word for pussy. God came to you as a pussy. There was some whore up there on the mountain who screamed out the commandments as she came on top of you," he explained.
"As always," Moses replied. "Your view is enlightening."
"The whole of your religion was born from fucking a dame on a hill top," Satan continued. "Oh..... and incase you were wondering. It wasn't an apple that Eve ate in the Garden of Eden either."
All the guests winced at the image and tried to shove it from their minds with a gulp of wine.
"Please Lucy, at least wait until after desert before you start with the vulgarity," begged Jesus. Satan held his hands up in mock surrender and pulled an invisible zip across his lips. A second later he unzipped it and let out a ginormous belch.
"Pardon-" began Joseph only to be halted by a quick, "Shhh!" and a finger from Jesus.
"No-one pardons him," he said. "No-one apart from God."
"And he's too busy being nothing," Satan reminded him. An awkward silence followed during which some food was pushed around on plates and wine swirled in glasses.
"Right, who's for apple bobbing?" asked Muhammed, rising from his chair. "I vote that this year Cain and Abel are on seperate teams. We don't want another attempted drowning."
Cain shrugged non-chalantly and muttered, "Whatever."
As everyone started rising from their chairs Satan pointed to Joseph's plate and asked, "You gonna eat that?"..
(Editorial)
source: Evil Crayon
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