“What’s that now?” I asked distractedly as I looked up from the Jets game.
They were actually winning for once, so that was confusing me and messing with my grip on reality.
“You work for a TV show, so you know powerful people in the biz, correct?” Lucifer asked as he stood there in an impeccably tailored suit that made him look like he had just stepped off a movie set.
“I’m a writer for a late night talk show,” I confirmed. “That doesn’t exactly gain me entry into Hollywood’s inner circle.”
The Prince of Darkness paced between me and the television, and I couldn’t help but notice that he still had his pitchfork in hand. He always put that thing in the corner as soon as he arrived at The House on the Hill, so I was uncomfortable that he still felt the need to keep it handy.
“You’re more than just a writer, though,” he assured me. “You do the cue cards in a pinch and occasionally appear on camera. Plus, I’ve been here when the host has called to discuss show business, and I know you are friends with him on Facebook.”
I chuckled. “Yes, Danny and I are friends on multiple forms of social media. If you’re looking to meet him, I’m sure I can arrange a meeting. Now that I think of it, you would make a really cool guest.”
Satan stopped pacing and shot me an icy glare, which was ironic given that he is associated with Hell fire.
“If I was going to be on a late night talk show, I’d go on The Tonight Show,” The Devil snapped. “Jimmy Fallon wouldn’t have that gig if it weren’t for me, so he owes me big time.”
I knew it! As much as I love Jimmy Fallon, I had a sneaking suspicion there was some sort of supernatural explanation to his rise to the top of the late night talk show world.
“So then why are you asking about my connections in television?” I asked now more confused than ever.
“Have you seen the commercials for Fox’s new show ‘Lucifer’? They’ve made a program about me without asking my permission, paying me for the rights to my life story, or giving me a producer credit,” Lucifer snapped as he snatched a Snapple out of the cooler and downed half the bottle in one gulp.
“I do recall seeing the commercial,” I had to admit. “It’s got that guy from ‘Rush’ playing you I think. It didn’t even cross my mind to ask you what you thought of the show.”
“What I think is that I need to shut down production until the network and I reach an agreement,” The Prince of Darkness growled as his grip tightened on his pitchfork. “Ask Danny to get me a meeting with the criminals who are behind the show.”
I just laughed. Flat out guffawed at the request.
“I’m certain that Danny doesn’t have that kind of pull,” I informed him between all the laughter. “The Nite Show isn’t exactly on Hollywood’s radar.”
“You really need to take more pride in the work you do,” Satan advised as he leaned his pitchfork against the couch and finished his Snapple. “That’s a great show and you write wonderful jokes. Have more confidence in the fact that Hollywood knows about it.”
I just shrugged. The pitchfork was still right there, so I didn’t want to risk angering him.
“I would imagine that you have plenty of contacts in Hollywood,” I changed the topic to get the spotlight off me. “Why not ask your buddy Jimmy Fallon for help?”
“Everyone I know in Hollywood has already pledged their eternal soul to me,” The Devil answered with a sigh. “They owe me nothing now, and won’t even take my calls. Of course, they will pay for this dearly when their lives get cancelled and I take over programming for all eternity.”
He let out an evil laugh that gave me chills.
“Didn’t you tell me that Hell was the only place with more lawyers than Hollywood? Gather them together and have them sue the show’s producers, while also filing an injunction to stop the pilot from airing until you work out a deal,” I suggested confidently because I’ve watched plenty of legal shows in my time.
“I like the way you think,” Lucifer admitted as he finally cracked a smile. “It’s good to have something to keep the lawyers distracted. Otherwise, they are constantly serving me with papers in an attempt to invalidate their contracts with me. They are such pests.”
He then snapped his fingers at the television.
“What was that?” I asked as I reached for a Snapple.
“To reward you, I just made it so that the Jets will win this game,” The Prince of Darkness replied as he walked his pitchfork to its usual place in the corner. “Enjoy the game.”
You know what, Modern Philosophers? I actually did enjoy a Jets game for once.