News Anchor: Tonight we have an interview with one of the most elusive and powerful personalities on this planet or any other. Tonight, investigative reporter, Angelica Fullsome will provide the first of our three part series: Interview with The Devil, Angelica, what was your feeling about this interview?
Angelica: At first I was very frightened but when the Devil accepted the invitation and insisted that I join him at his favorite golf course in the Hamptons, I was intrigued by the idea of coming face to face with the most intelligent evil force in the universe.
Anchor: And did you come face to face with him?
Angelica: (blushing) Not face to face.
Anchor: I see, well alrighty then. So here is the first part of our three part series, Interview With the Devil.
Camera zooms in on a casually dressed clean but overweight fat balding man reclining in a lounge chair next to the pool overlooking the golf course.
Angelica: May I call you The Devil?
The Devil: Of course, but my friends call me, Henry.
Angelica: Henry?
The Devil: It’s a family name.
Angelica: Oh, there is a family? Is there a Mrs. Devil?
The Devil: Divorced. 45 centuries now, but we stay on evil terms for the sake of the kids.
Angelica: And how many children are there?
The Devil: How many sides does the coast line of Britain have?
Angelica: Four?
The Devil: Right…. Went to Harvard didn’t you?
Angelica: Yes. Does it show?
The Devil: Not much.
Angelica: Do you have a mother?
The Devil: I’m not sure. I know I have a creator of sorts.
Angelica: A creator?
The Devil: Of course. Everything has a beginning. Even the Devil.
Angelica: Then let’s get right to it.
The Devil: Maybe later. Interview first.
Angelica: No one wants to go on the record about you? They seem to be afraid of you. Do you know why?
The Devil: D’oh. I’m the Devil.
Angelica: And people should be afraid of you, is that it?
The Devil: I suppose although if they got to know me, they’d fear me less.
Angelica: Why?
The Devil: I’m really lazy. The other guy has the hard job looking after all of you, keeping you out of mischief you bring on yourselves mostly. It’s full time and over time up there.
Angelica: And down here?
The Devil: I play a lot of golf. All of my staff does. It keeps us in shape for things to come. I don’t like to mix with the people. Too emotional. Golf courses are demon’s home, their hell on earth, so to speak.
Angelica: Do you play any other sports?
The Devil: Not me, but some of the lesser demons are most of the National Hockey League in America and all of the New Jersey leagues. Did you think the New Jersey Devils were locals or just Canadians?
Angelica: I see. So if you don’t mix much, to what do you attribute your reputation?
The Devil: Gaps.
Angelica: Pardon me?
The Devil: Not likely. God leaves gaps. I’m the god of the gaps.
Angelica: Can you explain that?
The Devil: I can but you won’t understand it. You see, your one of those intelligent types. You’re all about being positive, being right. You’re positive God is Good, and I’m Evil In fact, God IS good.
Angelica: And you’re NOT evil?
The Devil: Of course I am. I’m the Devil. I’m just not there when you need me. That leaves gaps.
Angelica: Would you give me an example?
The Devil: Sure. Let’s take this golf game. I’m waiting for a famous basketball player. World renown athlete. Wins at everything except golf. I can beat him at golf. Heck, you can beat him. Why? Basketball players are too tall to play golf. They can’t swing without bending over so they have terrible form. Golf is a game of short people. Gaps.
Angelica: I don’t understand.
The Devil: Right... Ok, let’s say you live in Alaska. Fairbanks in summer has 20 hours of sunlight a day. Until you force yourself to do it, you stay awake. A lot. Alcohol sales in Alaska are six times what they are anywhere else. So Alaska makes you strong or it kills you. Gaps.
Angelica: So does that explain…
The Devil: Sarah?
Angelica: Yes.
The Devil: No. She is perfectly adjusted to the climate of Alaska. On the other hand, America can’t adjust to her. They can’t understand a woman like that. Gaps.
Angelica: Does anything trouble you?
The Devil: Shoe sizes.
Angelica: Shoe sizes? Why?
The Devil: They keep changing. Every year the manufacturers adjust the standards for shoe sizes. Bugs me to high Heaven. You see, to keep up with ingress, I have to have a place in Hell for everyone predestined, scheduled, mapped out, you know, like it or not., arriving COD, the Cold Ordinary Dammed. What's the use of standards if they keep changing?
Angelica: And you do that with shoe sizes?
The Devil: Sure. I’m a lazy devil. I don’t want to stuff people in so tight that they fall apart. That would get them out of hell before my folks have time to torment them to my satisfaction. So we allow just enough room for their feet. They can stand up but they can’t sit down. I use shoe sizes to make the calculation. When they keep changing, I have to keep adjusting and there is only so much Hell per capita. It’s irritating.
Angelica: So you keep up with everyone’s shoe size?
The Devil: You’re a six.
Angelica: What?
The Devil: Your shoe size. It’s a six. Right? Of course, and yeah, I’ve got a spot for you already on the map. Don’t get your knickers in a twist? You’ve got a few years and a few more hit pieces to write. Would you like a drink?
Angelica: Yes, can I have a martini?
The Devil: Sure. Anything but pomegranate.
Angelica: Why pomegranate?
The Devil: That’s a secret.
Angelica: Are you planning a run for the Presidency?
The Devil: Absolutely not.
Angelica: Why? You could do tremendous evil with that kind of power.
The Devil: You journalists are so naïve. A six. Definitely. Look, first, the last five Presidents have inflicted more torment than I could possibly inflict being as lazy as I am. Second, what makes you think the President is all THAT powerful? Look around you here. See those guys teeing up? They are all international bankers, hedge fund geniuses, oil executives and Ben and Jerry. Remember, I said we demons play a lot of golf. They have real power. The President, every Senator, every Congressman, heck every used car dealer has to come play golf with those guys to get the money and they have to do it every day. As a result, they never get anything else done. That provides a lot of torment for the dollar and all we have to do is play golf. Well, except for the car dealership owners. They sell the latest designs and we keep making more room for indeterminate shoe sizes. Automation is the real killer app.
Angelica: Toyota too?
The Devil: Toyota too. Our top designers.
Angelica: I see. Is there anyone beyond your reach?
The Devil: Gene Simmons.
Angelica: The rock star? He’s the image of evil.
The Devil: Exactly. The image but not the fact. He doesn’t drink or smoke or cheat in business deals. He likes beautiful women and his queen is a really smart one. Guys like that can’t be tempted. I assigned a full team to work him over every day and he turned it into a hit reality TV show and made even more money. Talk about beating the Devil. A few more like him and I’d have to give up golf and work at this.
Angelica: Who do you admire in the music business then?
The Devil: Bob Dylan
Angelica: The folk singer.
The Devil: Sure. He’s my Man. Can’t sing. Looks crazy. Writes stuff no one can understand. I mean, except for Lay Lady Lay, who has sex listening to Dylan? Lay Lady Lay was banned from the radio. So, no one. And… (in low tones) my chief disciple is his biggest fan.
Angelica: You mean?
The Devil: Shh! Don’t even say his name out loud. It confuses people who think it’s a Republican campaign strategy. Keep that on the down low.
Camera fades to anchor desk.
Anchor: So our worst fears are confirmed.
Angelica: If you believe him, I think so.
Anchor: And do you believe him?
Angelica: (looking disconsolate) He said he would call.
Anchor: Alrighty then. Come back tomorrow night when we air part two of our three part series, Interview With The Devil.
1 comment:
Only because "Lie, Lady, Lie" would've been too syntacally confusing, and inconsistent with bluesy Country.
Once I was driving with a beautiful brunette, a second-generation English teacher, when that beautiful tune came over the car radio. She twanged back, in her own mock baritone, "Lay, Lady, Lay...lay me a big brass egg!". She'd managed to bend the last words into the requisite polysyllables.
I blushed.
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