How are you today?
So Satan. I noticed that you made my web site completely blank this morning. Completely blank. Nothing there. Empty, cold, and lonely.... perhaps the same way some readers might have felt when trying to get to my page.... so cold, so empty, so lornerly.
Yes, Satan, I know you are responsible for it being blank. There is no use trying to blame God for this one. God didn't make my web site go blank. I have a feeling that God may be responsible for making my goldfish Polly die last night, and believe me, God's got a kurt letter coming as well... but let's not get off track. I'm writing you at the moment.
Listen Satan. We obviously have some tension between us. And I think I know what it's about.
It's about that time I tried to sell my soul to you in 1989, isn't it?
Don't act like you don't remember. I was in the 5th grade, you were busy getting your Satanic thing on, per usual. School assembly. I was sitting on the third row, waiting for the principal to name the 3 top sellers of magazine subscriptions. I was convinced that my total of four (4) subscriptions had sealed the deal. I was sure I was going to win the prize.
And what a prize it was, Satan. A brand new black and white television set with a radio on it as well. It even had a little handle so that you could carry it with you when you went, I don't know, hiking or something.
I wanted that tv/radio tote super bad, Satan. Super bad. I could feel every nerve in my body tingle as I thought about all of the fun adventures I could have with the tv/radio tote. So many adventures.
That's when it happened, Satan. That's when I closed my eyes and said, "Listen up Satan. I'm not really sure what you do or how real you are but you've got this reputation that I've heard about. Apparently, if I give you my soul, you'll give me what I want. And right now, I really want that tv/radio tote, so I'm more than willing to sell my soul to you in exchange for said tote."
To me, I thought it was a done deal. I offered you my soul, therefore, I should have gotten the tv/radio tote.
Nope. Ryan H. got it. Ryan H. who was not a good student and would only use the tv/radio tote for stupid adventures, not awesome ones like I had planned.
And that's when I said to myself, "Satan is on my shitlist." (Yes, I was only in the 5th grade, but I did know the word 'shit' and was aware that one could have a 'shitlist.' I was a very smart child.)
From there on out you and I just didn't get along Satan. Not at all. This is strange, because we have so much in common: I like fires, you live in eternal damnation; you're a fallen angel, I once fell and hurt my knee pretty bad and my Mom called me "angel" when she was nursing me back ot health; you're the ruler of the Underwold, I am the owner of a car with no air conditioning and I live in Texas.
I think we just hit it off wrong from the start.
So, Satan. Here's the deal. I want to make sure that there are no hard feelings between us because of that little incident 12 years ago. I want to make things right so that I won't have to go through another moment like I had this morning ("MY DIARY IS BLANK! AHHHH!) and I'm sure you're sick of hearing people say, "LadeeLeroy gave me this Jesus is Awesome pencil and I've decided that Jesus is Awesome! Amen."
So we'll call it even. From here on out I have no hard feelings against you and I hope that you have the maturity to do the same for me. Maybe, someday, we'll even be chums. But I'm not going to keep my fingers crossed. Baby steps, Satan, it's going to take baby steps.
I hope you're having a good day in Hell.