The Statue of the Damned

“You know what I like most about the Oscars?” The Devil asked as he passed me the platter of his Hellfire Wings.

“Checking to make sure that you are better dressed than any of the men in attendance?” I quipped as I relieved the plate of three of its irresistible occupants.

Lucifer looked incredibly sharp.  His usual impeccably tailored suit had been replaced with an even more impeccably tailored tuxedo.

“That’s my second favorite thing,” The Prince of Darkness replied with a wink as he put down the platter.  “Number one on the list is thinking about all the souls I’ve collected over the years just so people could go home with that beautiful gold statue.”

“I’ve always suspected that there had to be some funny business involved with certain Oscar winners,” I confessed.  “You willing to name names?”

I was excited to hear his answer, but my immediate priority was to get some Snapple in my mouth to put out the Hellfire Wing fire.  My house guest made the best chicken wings I’ve ever tasted, but they were insanely spicy.

Satan waited for me to chug down my champagne flute of iced tea (What?  It’s the Academy Awards and I like to class up The House on the Hill for the big night!) before he answered my question.

“You know I cannot divulge such information,” The Devil scolded.  “I take Devil/Client Privilege very seriously.  What I will tell you, however, is that it’s surprisingly not the actors who most often make the deal.  It’s mostly producers and then the lesser known nominees who know this could be the only chance they ever have at a nomination.”

I devoured another wing as I pondered his words.

“But there are actors, right?” I persisted.  “You don’t have to tell me if I’m correct, but I’d bet my life savings that one actor who traded her soul might have been friends with My Cousin Vinny.  Like you blend!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and sipped his Snapple.

He didn’t have to say anything.  I knew I was right.

“The point is, I love the Oscars because so many poor souls are willing for suffer for all eternity in exchange for just one night in Hollywood’s spotlight.  Sometimes, when I want to be annoyingly ironic, I’ll gather all the Oscar Damned into one ring of Hell and shine high powered spotlights on them while I make them listen to an endless loop of their own acceptance speeches.  Good times!”

“Maybe that one night in the spotlight was worth it for them,” I countered as I wiped wings sauce on the sleeve of my toga like an uncouth buffoon.  “Maybe winning that Oscar led to more jobs in Hollywood, and allowed that person to spend a lifetime doing what he loved.”

The Prince of Darkness chuckled.  “You spent time in Hollywood while you were chasing your screenwriting dream.  Would you really say getting to spend a lifetime working in that town was worth the price of eternal damnation?”

“No, but I bet it would be excellent practice!” I shot back and broke out into laughter.

Satan laughed, too, and he ended up having to use his handkerchief to dab away the tears because he got to laughing so hard.

“Well, I know you’re upset that your beloved Star Wars film didn’t get more nominations,” he said once the laughing fit has passed.  “At least you can sleep soundly tonight knowing that your celebrity crush, Daisy Ridley, hasn’t traded her soul to me.  So there’s still a chance you can meet her in Heaven someday.”

“Like Melissa would ever let that happen,” I told him with a chuckle.  “I know she’s bought a Rey action figure, gotten a Leprechaun to enchant it for her, and turned it into a voodoo doll that ensures Daisy Ridley will never steal me away from her.”

We both busted out laughing once again.

“You have an amazing imagination,” The Devil complimented me.  “You really should use it for something creative like writing an Oscar nominated screenplay.”

I picked up a chicken wing, made sure my hand was covered in Hellfire Sauce, and then waved it in the general direction of my guest’s precious tuxedo.

“One more comment like that, and the tux gets it!” I threatened.

He made the international sign of zipping his mouth closed, and turned his attention to the Academy Awards telecast.

Did you know you that can follow me on Pinterest without having to make a deal with The Devil?