Sure, I was embarrassed by my gluttonous behavior, but it was so delicious, and I was absolutely ravenous after my morning run.
“Thanks again for making me breakfast,” I managed to blurt out in the brief moment that I came up for air between bites.
The Devil smiled from behind the Sunday paper. “I know you go for longer runs on the weekend, so I thought I’d surprise you and help fill that empty tummy.”
As always, he was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, but this time he wore an apron over it. The message on the apron read: One Hell of a Cook.
That apron was no liar!
I took a long sip of my Snapple and then studied what was left of my breakfast.
“Ham, cheese, mushroom, and bacon,” I listed the ingredients in awe. “Perfect.”
Lucifer flashed a charming smile. “I’m so glad you enjoy it. My cooking resume goes well beyond my infamous Hellfire Wings, but I rarely get the chance to put on my apron and putter around a kitchen.”
I nodded in agreement and then a scent wafting from the kitchen caught my attention.
“Are those blueberry muffins I smell?” I asked, still wanting more food even though I had just stuffed my face.
“Your nose does not deceive you,” The Prince of Darkness confirmed. “I wanted to add chocolate chips, but then I remembered that you are trying to eat better.”
The omelet had taken up a considerable amount of space in my previously empty stomach, but I was certain I could make room for a muffin. Or two.
“I was a little lightheaded after my run, but am I right in thinking that my lawn has already been mowed?” I questioned right before putting more omelet into my mouth.
“You are correct, my friend,” Satan informed me. “After running five miles, the last thing you need is to tackle that grass. Rest your legs. You’ve earned it.”
“I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even when it comes with horns and a pitchfork, but what has gotten into you?” I interrogated my guest between bites of my breakfast. “You never get here this early, you never cook, and you never mow the lawn. Something’s up.”
The Devil flashed a devilish grin and took a long sip of his Snapple before answering.
“I finally hired a Chief of Staff, and now that I can delegate so many of the tasks I was handling personally, I have all sorts of time on my hands,” he admitted excitedly.
“That’s awesome,” I congratulated him. “I bet you had quite the pool of candidates to choose from in the eternal Hellfire. Good for you for finally trusting one to be your right hand man. Or woman.”
Lucifer shook his head and chuckled. “I’d never pick one of The Damned to be my Chief of Staff, Austin. They can’t be trusted. They’re in Hell for a reason. No, I hired one of the living. I’ve had my eye on him for a while, but he already had a job. But as luck would have it, he found himself unemployed on Friday and I snatched him up immediately.”
Something about that timeline sent a chill down my spine. I put down my fork, wiped the crumbs from my mouth, and turned to face my guest.
“He was the perfect man for the job,” The Prince of Darkness confirmed my worst fear. “After toiling for that megalomaniac, it should be a cinch to work for such an easygoing, down to earth boss like me. If we didn’t work in Hell, I’d say it’s a match made in Heaven.”
Satan laughed hysterically at his joke. I offered a polite chuckle.
“I thought he was going to work for Breitbart,” I challenged.
“That’s the cover story we’re telling the world,” The Devil explained as he took another sip of his Snapple. “We didn’t want all the distractions that would go along with leaving one high profile job for another. Since I own Breitbart, it’s not like the story is a lie.”
“You own Breitbart!” I shouted as I jumped up off the couch in confused excitement.
“Can you think of a better way for me to keep tabs on evil in America?” Lucifer replied. “It gives me easy access to so many future residents of Hell. Plus, it turns quite a profit.”
I took a minute to allow my brain to absorb that information. I didn’t want to rush into processing those facts, lest it lead to a migraine.
“You’re blowing my mind right now,” I scolded him. “And not in a good way.”
“Relax and enjoy your breakfast,” The Prince of Darkness cooed in a calming voice. “I’ll go get you a muffin while you consider that this country is in a much better place now that Steve Bannon works in Hell, rather than the White House.”
He did make an excellent point. Bannon could now spread his angry, racist, message of hatred in a place that was much more used to that sort of rhetoric.
Besides, I was not about the argue with Satan when he was serving me muffins and mowing my lawn. I know a good thing when I see it..