But Can The Secret Service Protect Your Soul?

“I’ve been reading the campaign literature Michelle created, and I think you should give some serious thought to running for President,” The Devil declared when I returned to the living room of The House on the Hill with an armful of Snapple bottles.

He sprang up off the couch and took four bottles, careful not to allow them to touch his impeccably tailored suit.  He then stashed them in the cooler that we kept on the floor between us.

“That Presidential run is just a gag for the blog,” I explained as I handed Lucifer one of the two remaining Snapples.

“I know,” he replied with a raise of his right eyebrow as he sat down on the couch again.  “What I’m saying is why not take the joke to the next level?”

We opened our bottles simultaneously, which I took as a sign that we were operating entirely on the same wavelength.

“Think of the fun I could have with that,” I mused as I took a long sip of my iced tea.  “I could totally skewer the American political system from a perspective that no blogger has ever had before this.”

The Prince of Darkness flashed the most Devilish of grins in reply.  “You’d certainly make politics fun again.  I don’t like Hilary, and this would really get her pantsuit all up in a bunch!”

I got a good chuckle out of that one, and wondered how well acquainted Satan was with the Clintons.  I bet he and Bill had spent some time shooting the breeze in the Oval Office back in the day.

“I’d be running on a platform of finding True Love, so I’m not really sure how far the campaign would get,” I confessed.

“Have you seen the clowns running for President?” The Devil snickered.  “Your Run for Love is a much more solid platform than anything most of them have at this point.  They’re bickering over the same boring talking points, and you’d have the dating issue all to yourself.  Americans love a good romantic comedy.”

He had a point.  Of course, I’d have to run this past Michelle since she was the Campaign Manager of my unofficial Presidential bid, but everything out of his mouth made sense.

“I’d have to do some serious fundraising,” I pointed out and took a long sip of my Snapple.

“You can use your blog for that,” Lucifer answered.  “Sell togas with Austin 2016 on the back, and I bet they go like hot cakes.  Anyone who is hip, creative, and bored with the same old donkey and elephant show is going to want to get behind The True Love Candidate from the Modern Philosopher Party.”

“I’m worried about the background check,” I finally had to admit.

“I’ve been through your closets and never saw any skeletons.  So what’s the worry?” The Prince of Darkness asked.

“When did you go through my closets?” I asked in befuddlement.

He waved off the question with a well manicured hand.  “Don’t worry about that.  Tell me what concerns you.  Is it the family you haven’t talked to in ages?”

I shook my head and just stared at him until he got it.

“Oh,” Satan said with an evil laugh.  “You’re worried that our friendship is going to cause you problems with the voters.”

Duh.  Not only would the Religious Right have an issue with our being friends, but my opponents would also have a field day about my making a deal with The Devil to win the election.  There really wasn’t a good way to spin that.

“I’m pretty sure the Secret Service would be worried about your trying to steal my soul,” I told him in an attempt to use levity to defuse the situation.  “I mean how do you protect someone’s soul?”

“Excellent point,” he responded with a smile.  “What do you think your Secret Service code name would be?  My money would be on Toga Boy.”

He let out a deep Devilish laugh that almost caused him to spill his Snapple.

“That’s no way to get yourself on the guest list for a night in the Lincoln Bedroom,” I scolded him as I tried to fight back a smile.  “I’d hope they’d go with Modern Philosopher, but I’d be open to whatever handle they chose to assign me.”

“Yankee Doodle would be another good one,” he countered.  “It’s patriotic, it touches on your love of the Yankees, and it’s a real catchy tune.”

Lucifer was getting a kick out of himself on this rainy Sunday at The House on the Hill.  I let him laugh because it was fun to kick around the idea of running for President and moving this blog from Maine to The House on Pennsylvania Avenue.

It didn’t cost anything to dream…