Call Him The Prince O’ Darkness, Laddie

St. PatrickI had just come in from a second round of shoveling the driveway, and all I wanted to do was relax and watch some TV.

“We need to discuss Seamus’ St. Patrick’s Day party immediately,” The Devil announced as he walked into The House on the Hill like he owned it.

Sadly, the mortgage and the responsibility for its payment, was still in my name.

“You’re going to make your Hellfire Wings, right?” I asked hopefully and said a silent prayer that Lucifer’s obvious stress was brought about by an issue with the menu and not something deeper and more threatening to my sanity.

“I need to know if a certain someone is on the guest list,” Satan informed me as he unbuttoned the jacket on his expensive suit and sat down on the couch.  “Specifically, I need to know if St. Patrick is going to be in attendance.”

I wasn’t expecting that to be the problem that had The Prince of Darkness’ boxers all up in a bunch.  “I haven’t heard Seamus mention him.  Would his being there be a problem?”

The Devil shot me a glance, which probably scared many a weaker willed person out of his soul, but I was used to all his facial expressions at this point.  I took a sip of my Snapple and waited for him to commence with his tirade.

Devil“Patrick and I have a history, and I’d prefer not to run into him on a night when I’m trying to have some fun,” he answered.  “Plus, St. Patrick’s Day is a great time for collecting souls, and I don’t want him throwing me off my game.  People get ridiculously drunk, are in wonderful moods, and mistakenly think the Luck of the Irish will protect them from anything.”

Lucifer was so worked up that he even loosened his tie.  I definitely needed to know more.

“What’s the history between you two?”  I had to ask because if he was going to interrupt my night of relaxation, the least he could do was entertain me.

“You know Paddy’s big claim to fame is driving the snakes out of Ireland,” he said in almost a growl.  “Well, I took offense to that, so I sought him out to have a little chat about it one morning about 1700 years ago.”

I held up my hand like a student who wanted to ask the teacher a question.  “Why did you have a problem with his driving the snakes out of Ireland?”

Satan sighed and snatched a Snapple out of the cooler.  “Everyone knows that the snake is the Biblical representation of me.  That’s how they chose to depict me tempting Eve into eating that apple, and that was how they continued to represent me in all Church teachings.  It was like I wasn’t good enough to just be myself.  They had to degrade me as a slimy, limbless serpent.”

St. Pat snakeI understood how that could hurt his feelings.  “So you took St. Patrick’s actions as a direct attack on you?”

“You know it!” The Prince of Darkness declared as he slammed his Snapple down on the table.  “These were different times, so many souls were up for grabs, and I still had a chance to emerge as the winner in this whole Hell versus Heaven battle.  I was feeling cocky and looking for a fight.”

“You wanted to kick his ass to prove that you were the big man in the prison yard,” I suggested.

“Exactly,” he agreed and continued his tale with hellfire in his eyes.  “I tracked him down at some church, and I told him that if he really wanted to prove he was bad, he could try to drive my ass out of his church.”

I tried to picture the well groomed, impeccably dressed creature on the couch next to me making such a scene, and then I remembered how The Devil looked when he wasn’t in human form.  He was pretty terrifying.

“He told me to get lost.  That he wasn’t going to waste his time on a fallen angel.  He said that at least snakes represented a real threat to mankind.”

“No he didn’t!” I shouted, totally shocked by St. Patrick’s diss of my house guest.  “He did not say and imply that you were nothing.”

Lucifer merely nodded and sipped his Snapple.

“I wanted to impale him on my pitchfork and roast him over the embers of the very church in which he was standing,” The Prince of Darkness confessed, “but I knew that after his little publicity stunt in Ireland, the Archangels would be watching over him.  That was a fight I was not prepared for at that point.”

Angel RachelThe mention of Archangels took me by surprise and threw me for a loop as my thoughts flashed to the beautiful Archangel who hadn’t set foot on my porch in some time.

“So how did you leave it?” I asked as I tried to drive the images of her out of my mind.

“I left it that the next time I saw Paddy Boy, I was going to give him the ass whooping he has coming to him,” The Devil replied as he picked at the lint on his suit pants.

“We certainly don’t want that at Seamus’ party,” I stated the obvious.  “The Witches would not take kindly to any brawling at their bar.”

“Tell your wee pal if he doesn’t want to see what happens when the Prince O’ Darkness gets his Irish up, he’d better make sure that snake hater isn’t on the guest list.”

I didn’t reply because I was too busy wrapping my brain around “Prince O’ Darkness”.

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 Holidays, Humor, Philosophy, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to Call Him The Prince O’ Darkness, Laddie

  1. JED says:

    Not a battle I’d want to be in the middle of. The Luck of the Iris might just run out. Hope the ruckus stays to a minimum for the party.

  2. the Devil is Irish? That explains so much.

  3. jerryofcali says:

    Paddy won’t be there. There’s a great Irish bar outside Boston that he’ll be at…or so the owner told me. I think I actually saw him checking the place out…but I could be wrong.

  4. Pingback: Some St. Paddy’s Snow And A Baked Potato Coma | The Return of the Modern Philosopher

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