Swinging Into The Devil’s Playground

“Did you see that spring training has started?” The Devil asked as he held out the sports section of the Sunday newspaper in case I needed proof.

“I’m pretty pumped,” I nodded in agreement.  “Just another sign that winter is almost over.

I grabbed a Snapple from the cooler and took a long sip.

“The players working on their swings to prepare for the new season,” Lucifer continued.  “Speaking of swinging, I read that article you wrote for The Good Men Project.”

“That was a beautiful segue,” I announced sarcastically.  “Not at all clunky or abrupt.”

The Prince of Darkness chuckled, folded the newspaper, and placed it on the table.  He then checked his impeccably tailored Italian suit for any signs of troublesome newsprint, and once satisfied that his clothing was in no danger, turned his attention to me.

“Excuse me for not wanting to leap immediately into the fact that your literary tell all was my WTF moment of the weekend,” he scolded and then smiled Devilishly.  “I just found out that you could have been heir to a minor porn empire if you’d only managed to keep your marriage together.  How did Melissa react to your dark past?”

“It’s not really my dark past,” I countered and downed more iced tea for the sugar rush I was going to need to deal with this can of porn worms.  “My former in laws were the swingers and pornographers, not me.  Melissa might have been taken aback a little, but that’s only because the kinkiest thing they have in Ireland are Leprechaun threesomes.  And even those are just two Leprechauns and a keg of beer.”

“Changing the subject,” I announced.  “How are you going to handle the inevitable emergency situation in Hell?”

“What are you babbling about?” The Devil asked with the raise of an eyebrow.

“When Hell freezes over,” I answered nonchalantly.  “It’s going to happen the exact moment that Trump locks up the Republican Presidential Nomination.”

Lucifer sighed and shook his head.

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that joke over the past couple of months, I’d have more money than the next President of the United States!” he quipped and then laughed hysterically.

I did not join him in laughter.  In fact, I think I felt a tear well up in my eye.

“Don’t even tease about that,” I admonished my house guest.  “You know that the swearing in of President Trump would signal the End of Days, and you’re not ready for it all to come to an end just yet.  There are still too many souls out there for your collection.”

“You are correct, amigo,” The Prince of Darkness agreed.  “I want a shot at the soul of every American who wants to help Trump put up his wall of hate against minorities.  Maybe I could hire Trump to build the additional rings of Hell I’m going to require to house all of his hate mongering followers.”

“It’s nice when we talk like this,” I confessed.  “There’s something oddly reassuring in knowing that you think Donal Trump is evil.”

“I’m glad that I can be more than just a pretty face around here,” Satan responded.  “Does this mean we can swing the conversation back to swinging?  I’ve got so many questions I want to ask.”

“Go to Hell,” I told him.  “Seriously.  Just go.  I need to get some writing done.”

“Fine, but I’m taking some Snapple for the road,” The Devil declared as if that would make me change my mind.  “I’ll be back next Sunday to talk about whatever deep, dark, sexual secrets you’re about to put down on paper once I leave.”

He did know me well, but if he wanted to learn anything new, he was just going to have to read about it like everyone else…

Don’t feel like going to Hell?  Then be an Angel and follow me on Pinterest…