Satan Loves You (24 page)

Satan tried not to move. Anything he did, even something as innocent as scratching his nose, could be taken as an admission of guilt. Anything he did would be used against him in this court of law. Still, he did think Nero was laying it on a bit thick.

“But, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, when you go into that room I want you to think about what you have heard here today in this courtroom. It is undoubtedly true that Frita Babbit was abused, perhaps terribly, and maybe even by sick individuals who used the name of Satan in their rituals. But this case is not about that. This case hinges on the allegation that Satan himself visited her three times, each time in the shape of a different animal, and each time with a penis shaped like a pitchfork. Satan has denied this. And that is the cornerstone of our defense.

“Many of you think Satan is lying, but I call your attention to the reputation of my client. There have been many, many stories both written and told about Satan, and every one of them revolves around one simple fact: Satan keeps his word. In your Book of Job, he makes a bargain with God and honors it, even when he loses. In your folktales and in your songs by the Charlie Daniels Band, Satan is always defeated because he makes a bargain and sticks to its terms even when they are not to his advantage. These stories and songs are not written by people who like Satan, they are written by his enemies. But even his enemies admit that Satan keeps his word. So if you think that Satan is lying to you, ask yourself this: Charlie Daniels wrote about a Satan who kept his word. Is Charlie Daniels a liar?”

Okay, Satan thought to himself, they were asking themselves questions now. This was better. He felt that subtle feeling that a door far, far away had opened, just a crack. Just a chink. But it was enough to give him hope. Satan knew better than anyone else that hope was dangerous, but he couldn’t help himself. It was growing in his heart.

“Some individuals here today have suggested that Satan be found guilty because he is Satan and because Satan by nature is inherently evil. The logic runs as follows: Satan is evil, and evil is bad, therefore if he is not guilty of this crime he is guilty of some other crime. But is it a crime to follow your nature?

“Evil is not some perversion forced upon a good and orderly universe. It is not some outside force. It is a necessary part of existence. Just as we would not know pleasure without having pain to compare it to, just as we would not know the feeling of contentment if we did not also have the feeling of want, so too would we not know God without also knowing Satan.

“If all in this world were holy goodness, mankind would merely exist, floating along on a sea of unthinking pleasure. The existence of evil requires us to consciously choose to do good, even when it is not easy. In fact, because it is not easy the act of choosing good is more heroic. Without evil, man would have no choice, his life would be one of lassitude and moral indifference. He would not do good because he chose to do good, but because he had no choice but to do good. Goodness would have no meaning. Satan causes Man to choose between good and evil and, yes, it is disagreeable to have evil in the world, but without evil, God has no meaning.

“As a great writer once said,
‘
Even the existence of the Devil, is filled with the presence of God.’ Think about that. Why do you hate evil? To hate something implies that you fear it. Reject evil. Turn away from evil. But do not fear it. For if God created this universe, then did he not also create evil? And if God created evil, surely it must have been a part of his plan. Satan is God’s child, the same as you are, and you can no more hate him than you can hate your own shadow. Thank you for your time.”

There was silence in the courtroom for a moment, broken only by the sound of Nero’s voluminous toga rustling as he strode back to the defendant’s table and took his seat. A moment passed, and then, finally, Judge Cody Gold cleared his throat.

 “That was the biggest load of liberal horseshit I have ever heard. What was that? Deep thoughts from your diary? I think he’s guilty. Prosecution, want to rebut?”

“Thank you, your honor,” Eddie Horton said.

He stood up and turned to the jury.

“They wouldn’t call it
‘
Satanic Ritual Abuse’ if Satan wasn’t responsible. The prosecution rests.”

“See?” Judge Gold said. “Definitely guilty. Jury, what do you guys think?”

The jury foreman stood up.

“We could deliberate for a while to build suspense, but he’s going to be found guilty by a jury of his peers. You heard it here first.”

“So why drag it out? He’s Satan. He’s evil. He’s going down,” Judge Cody Gold said.

He banged his gavel.

“But, your honor,” the jury foreman said. “If there are any nude photographs of the plaintiff we would be very interested in studying them.”

“Are there any nudes?” Judge Cody Gold asked Eddie Horton. “I want copies if there are.”

“No, your honor,” Eddie Horton said. “The plaintiff regrets to inform you that there are no nudes she is willing to release at this time. She has signed a contract with Harper Collins and all her nude photographs are their property to use in her upcoming tell-all memoir.”

“Okay, so he’s guilty. Let’s string him up or something,” Judge Gold said.

“What about due process of the law?” Nero shouted.

“It’s always something with you, isn’t it,” Judge Gold said. “You’re as bad as my ex-wife. Always whining. You know what? Just for that I award the plaintiff twice her original claim. The judgment is now four hundred million dollars.”

“Your honor - “ Nero started.

“Again with the whining,” Judge Gold said. “Just for that, I’m going to make this an appeal by permission case. Which means any higher court can decide for no good reason not to hear your appeal. Ever. And I bet they won’t.”

“You’ve — you’ve screwed us!” Nero burst out.

“Screwed you?” Judge Gold roared. “ Bailiff, tase that lawyer. This isn’t screwing, this is justice! Now, where’s my press conference?”

Michael stood across the room from his Maker, the Architect of all Creation. When he had arrived, the Creator was in the form of half a million ergs of radiant energy, but he assumed a humanoid shape so as to better converse with his most favored angel.

“We’re having problems with Satan, O Heavenly Father,” Michael said.

“That’s why he’s there,” God said. “To cause problems.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Is that all? Did I tell you I’ve decided to twist Creation into an infinite loop?”

“No, Lord.”

“Have you ever existed and not existed at the same time? It is quite an experience!”

“No, Lord.” Michael tried another tack. “Heavenly Father, Satan has caused more problems than even you may know.”

“I am the maker of Heaven and Earth. I know everything.”

“Yes, my Lord. So you know about his son?”

“His what?”

“He placed his son inside a nun,” Michael said. “A Poor Clare, I believe.”

“No,” God gasped.

“My Lord, it gets worse. In a sick attempt to mock the sacrifice of your son, Satan sent his only child to the physical plane and then he killed him, as you did your child. Only, you sacrificed your son for the salvation of all mankind. He killed his son merely to taunt you.”

“He wouldn’t...”

“He has.”

God closed his eyes for a moment and when he reopened them they were the eyes of someone who was about to go off, Viking-style.

“I sense that what you say is true. How dare he? How dare he! The sacrifice of my child was a painful and beautiful act. A solitary sacrifice for the people of this fallen world. And he makes a mockery of me? Of my son? Of my compassion? He thinks killing his own child even compares to what I did?”

“From what I understand, he cursed your name and laughed while he did it,” Michael said, relaxing.

“He will suffer for this. You know the sin of Judas was not in betraying me, the sin of Judas was in thinking himself beyond forgiveness. His sin was arrogance. That was Satan’s original sin, and that is his sin now. Arrogance. Outrageous arrogance!”

“My Lord, I have a plan,” Michael said.

“Will it hurt him?”

“Badly, my Lord. The Heavenly Host is unsatisfied with the administration of Hell. We propose to invade it preemptively. We wish to annex it to Heaven and make it part of our realm. Lucifer will be given the choice to rejoin the Host or to be uncreated.”

“There is no choice,” God thundered. “Take his realm from him. Uncreate him. I am the Lord thy God and I have spoken.”

“Thy will be done,” Michael said, and bowed deeply.

In his heart, Michael was smiling. All his pawns were in place. All his plans were in motion. He would carry this victory in his heart and it would make the trip back through The Room that much shorter.

When news of the verdict hit, the crowd outside the courthouse went nuclear. They sent up a roar that shattered every window within a quarter mile. So many people stomped the earth, leaping up and down in joy, that it felt like an earthquake. So many tears of jubilation were shed that the shredded landscaping outside the courthouse turned to mud.

Inside the courtroom, the verdict had caused an instant chaos fiesta and Sheriff Furlough had hustled everyone to their various ready rooms. Judge Cody Gold was double-timed to his waiting chopper by the Segway cavalry. Out in Hollywood there was a reality TV producer who wanted to talk to him about a third season of his hit show,
Cody Gold: Justice Touches You
, and he had to get there, pronto.

Eric Horton, Ted Hunter and Frita Babbit were taken to what remained of the lawn outside the Sheriff’s Department where they held an impromptu press conference, notable mostly for the fact that Eric Horton was very sulky because Ted Hunter was hogging all the cameras. The only people who weren’t happy were Satan and Nero, and no one really cared about them anymore. No one wants to interview the losers. Sheriff Furlough had them shunted off to their conference room and left them alone. His plan was to wait until nightfall and then load them into a bulletproof Escalade and drive them fast to the airport where they could return to Hell and finally be out of what remained of his hair.

Satan lay on the floor of the conference room like someone with a bad back who has been on a plane for thirty-six straight hours. His eyes were open but they looked as dull and lifeless as old golf balls. His face was slack, his tongue white, his muscles sagged into the floor.

“They’ll have a hard time enforcing that judgment,” Nero said, trying to look on the bright side. “Although, I suppose that this could be the justification Heaven needs to violate our autonomy. That we owe a debt we cannot pay and that we’ve walked the Earth openly, and we’ve created an enormous mess...I mean, they could use that as a rationale to...to take us over.”

Satan died a little inside.

“We’ll make these numbers work, sir,” Nero said. “As soon as we get back down to Hell we’ll go over them and find a way to raise four hundred million dollars. I know we can do it.”

Satan didn’t say anything.

“We can lease out parts of Hell to the oil companies, maybe work out a deal with the United States to serve as a containment facility for terrorists, you know, get them out of Guantanamo and into Hell. Government contracts are big money! And on top of that there are plenty of other ways to make money such as...such as selling some souls? Or maybe starting an AOL call center? We’ve got a captive work force.”

Satan didn’t take the conversational bait.

“We won’t have to sell Hell, sir. I promise you that,” Nero said. “We won’t have to sell.”

Satan moaned, and rolled over so that he was facedown on the carpet. He knew all too well what would happen now. Heaven would offer Hell a buy-out: they would agree to pick up its debts and pay off this judgment in exchange for a controlling interest. The Ultimate Death Match would be a mere formality, if it was even held at all. Hell would belong to Heaven and Heaven had so much money that four hundred million was little more than an accounting error for them. Maybe it would slow down their plans to go green, but that was it. Heaven would quickly earn back its outlay by charging dead souls for reductions in punishment, letting souls have easier torments if they paid big fees, there were all kinds of ways to squeeze money out of the billions of tormented souls languishing in Hell. None of them were fair, but they were all easy.

Nero was hungry. He knew it was nothing more than a stress reaction, but that didn’t change the fact that the hunger weasel was gnawing its way through his guts. He checked on Satan, who was face down on the carpet and unlikely to go anywhere. He cracked the door and poked his head out into the hall. Empty. Everyone was at the press conference. Making sure he had enough change, he sprinted down the hall, toga flying behind him, to the vending machines. He paused as he tried to decide between Donut Stix and Fritos, then decided on salty instead of sweet, punched up some Fritos and ran back to the conference room and popped open the bag.