“What was that now?” The Devil asked as he put down the paper and raised an eyebrow.
“I asked if you ever met St. Augustine,” I explained as I spoke slower and louder.
“That’s what I thought you said, but for the life of me, I can’t understand why,” Lucifer explained with a bit of attitude as he folded the newspaper and placed it on the table.
He then checked his impeccably tailored suit for newsprint and the mysterious dust that he swore was forever floating around The House on the Hill with the singular mission to land upon and sully his expensive wardrobe.
“It’s All Saints Day and I wanted to know more about my Patron Saint,” I told him like a good former Catholic School boy. “I figured that since you used to be a big shot Angel, you might have crossed paths with some of the Saints.”
The Prince of Darkness chuckled maniacally like an evil clown about to go on a murder spree. “No, Austin, I have never met St. Augustine. I’m the bad guy now, so my former employer tends to keep the prized pupils away from my horrible influence.”
“You make me laugh when you talk about God and Heaven,” I admitted and took a sip of my Snapple.
“What do you mean?” a curious Satan queried.
I shrugged because I actually wasn’t quite sure what I meant. “Like just now you referred to the Saints as God’s prized pupils. I find that humorous.”
“Well, that’s how they’re treated,” The Devil shot back like I’d touched a nerve. “The Angels, especially the Archangels, do all the hard work, but it’s the Saints who get all the adoration and special attention. Is there an All Angels Day? Of course not. That might upset the Saints and make them not feel as loved. Boo fricking Hoo!”
I just had to laugh because Lucifer was a hoot when he got under the collar and his forked tongue took control.
“So I take it you’ve met some of the Saints then?” I asked hopefully.
The Prince of Darkness gave me a look that was something between a glare and “I might grab my pitchfork and impale you if you continue with this line of questioning”.
“You really are obsessed with the Saints,” he remarked coolly.
“St. Paddy knew how to party,” Satan volunteered with a smile in his eyes. “He certainly lived up to the Irish stereotype. We had our differences because of his whole thing with driving out the snakes, and my often being depicting as a snake in The Bible, but we’d always work it out over a few pints, a few shots, and a few Irish folk songs.”
It was my turn to give The Devil a look.
“What’s that for?” he demanded with a Devilish smile upon his handsome face. “You don’t believe that I can carry a tune?”
“I just imagine this happening in some hole in the wall Irish pub, and I can’t picture you and your thousand dollar suits hanging out in such a place,” I said with enough mockery and attitude in my voice to bring out my Brooklyn accent.
“I have an excellent dry cleaner,” he shot back with a wink.
“So you can tell me that St. Patrick likes to drink, sing, and mend fences, but you can’t tell me anything at all about St. Augustine? Am I summarizing correctly?” I quipped.
“I’m much more of a fan of the sinners than I am of the Saints,” Lucifer admitted and pulled a Snapple out of the cooler.
“And why’s that?” The Prince of Darkness needed to know immediately.
“Because the Giants are playing the Saints,” was my quick reply.
“I don’t like giants much, either,” The Devil stated as he reached for the paper. “They have his misguided notion that they’re better than everyone else simply because their great height makes them closer to God. Please!”
I chuckled and turned my attention to the game. I told myself I’d Google St. Augustine once it was over, but we all know that’s probably not going to happen…