7 Minutes In Heaven or Why The Devil Prefers Spin The Bottle

March-MadnessMarch Madness has come to The House on the Hill, Modern Philosophers, and I’m not just talking about the college basketball variety.

Yes, the NCAA Tournament has been on the TV all weekend, but I’ve barely paid it any mind.  It’s my eternal uninvited house guest, The Devil, who has been watching the games and making my life…well…a living Hell!

When his beloved Duke Blue Devils lost, Satan wept, then screamed, then paced excitedly, and finally grabbed his pitchfork and ran out into the night babbling in an ancient tongue and frothing at the mouth.

He has been a little more relaxed today, but clearly crazier than usual.  I finally took the bait and asked him why he was acting so strangely.

“Do you have any idea how stressful a time this is for me?” Lucifer asked and then chugged down the last of yet another bottle of Snapple.  “Do you know how souls have been promised to me if I will just ensure that a certain team makes it to the next round?”

DevilHe picked up one of the dozens of March Madness brackets scattered all over my living room and waved it in my face.  “I can’t make sense of it anymore!” he moaned as he reached into the cooler next to the couch to extract another Snapple.  “If I make one team win, I get x amount of souls, but if I let the other team win then I get y amount of souls.  I was never good at Algebra, so all these letters are confusing me!”

Welcome to my personal Hell.

I suggested that he get some interns to help him with all the paperwork and projections, but The Devil just let out an evil laugh that sent shivers down my spine.  “Don’t you think I’ve tried that already?  I’m not running a popular comedy blog like a certain someone, who is clearly blessed and beloved in the intern gifting community.  No college wants to let its students work for The Prince of Darkness.  Not even the community colleges.  What is this world coming to?”

He snatched an empty Snapple bottle and spun it on the table in disgust.  I know to the rest of the world he is a Fallen Angel, the Slum Lord of Hades, and the pitchfork wielding Prince of Darkness, but he also happens to be my friend.  I hated to see him so insane and anxious, so I tried to soothe him with a little humor.

I pointed at the spinning Snapple bottle and announced that if the bottle ended up pointing at me, there was no way in the world I was going to kiss him.

Satan just glared at me.  “Oh, so you won’t kiss an Angel that’s been booted out of Heaven?  I bet your lips would be whistling a totally different tune if a certain brown haired, dimple cheeked Archangel had spun that bottle.”

Angel RachelThe mere mention of Rachel the Archangel, who I thought to be the most beautiful being in existence, gave me serious goosebumps.

I did nothing to refute The Devil’s accusation, and instead, got lost in Deep Thoughts about what it would be like to kiss Rachel.

Lucifer reached for his pitchfork, and sent the spinning bottle flying across the room, where it narrowly missed smashing into my television.

“You’d love your seven minutes in Heaven with her, wouldn’t you, Togadict Arnold?” he yelled accusingly as his horns, which are normally not visible when he hangs out at my place, made an unexpected appearance.

“This is why I hate junior high and high school parties,” he informed me as he jumped off the couch and paced back and forth across the TV, no longer interested in the basketball action that had started this little tirade.  “Kids at those parties get all horned up and they just want to suck face and play tonsil hockey.  And what do the little angels always play?  Seven Minutes in Heaven!”

I was at a loss for words.  He was pacing so quickly that I was getting whiplash from trying to follow him, so I simply gave up and stared at the TV instead.  The Devil was going off the deep end, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

spin“Why can’t they play Spin the Bottle?” he asked with a heavy sigh.  “Spin the Bottle is non-denominational.  There’s no mention of my competition.  The joy of kissing isn’t forever linked with going to Heaven in all those young, impressionable minds.  Spin the Bottle gives me a chance to still reach those kids and steal their souls!”

Strangely, it was all starting to make sense to me.  Clearly, this March Madness has infected me as well.  Which ring of Hell was I in?  Maybe the third or fourth?

“Seven Minutes in Heaven is bad news for me,” he continued as he trudged back over to the couch and took a long sip of Snapple.  “Every time kids play that game at a party, a tiny section of Hell goes cold for those seven minutes.  I can’t stand it.  I’ve got to get the horny kids of the world to switch over to Spin the Bottle!”

He snatched his cell phone from his pocket and furiously began typing.  “I’m tweeting about it.  I’m going to make sure that #spinthebottle is trending worldwide before this game is over.  Let’s see how your girlfriend and all the other Angels like that!”

And just like that, the madness had ended.  At least temporarily.  He spent the rest of the game typing and replying to tweets.  I enjoyed the silence because I knew that before long, it would be replaced by more March Madness…

About Austin

Native New Yorker who's fled to the quiet life in Maine. I write movies, root for the Yankees, and shovel lots of snow.
This entry was posted in Humor, Philosophy, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to 7 Minutes In Heaven or Why The Devil Prefers Spin The Bottle

  1. Teela Hart says:

    Ha Ha Ha…..”Togadict Arnold” Priceless.

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