In his expensive, impeccably tailored suit, he was definitely the best dressed beverage server in town.
“But Friday isn’t your usual day for visitation,” I quipped. “Did you check with Mom’s lawyers because she’ll get really pissed if you’re trying to change the schedule and you didn’t run it past the lawyers.”
Lucifer shot me a disapproving look. “You’re hilarious.”
“Well, I wasn’t born with good looks, a family fortune, or even a decent sense of style,” I countered. “If it weren’t for my amazing sense of humor, I’d have nothing.”
The Prince of Darkness took a long sip of his Snapple as he allowed my witty comment to sink in and made an impact.
“I thought you might want to do something to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day,” he finally replied. “I know you’re proud of your Irish heritage, and a night when the ladies are a little less choosy because of all the green beer they’ve imbibed might be the perfect opportunity for you to reenter the dating world.”
“I forgot that you actually like St. Patrick,” I confessed and also chose to ignore the implied idea that I needed women to be tipsy in order to have any chance at getting a date.
“Yes, Patrick was the only Saint who kept in touch with me after I had my little falling out with the boss,” Satan concurred. “The whole fall from grace and being cast out of Heaven thing never bothered him.”
“I’ve heard that St. Patrick was pretty mellow and not at all judgy,” I added my two cents. “Maybe it’s from drinking all that green beer over the years.”
The Devil made an overly dramatic play of looking towards the front door. “By implying that a Saint of the Catholic Church has a drinking problem, you have angered The Nuns! They’ll be coming for you!”
“Who’s the hilarious one now?” I asked as I took a long sip of Snapple.
“So what do you say, Mr. Change the Subject?” Lucifer pressed. “I’ve heard that Paddy Murphy’s is the place to be around here on St. Patrick’s Day if you’re an introverted Irish lad looking to exhibit extroverted tendencies around the fair lasses of Bangor.”
“I don’t know,” I hemmed and bordered on hawing. “I don’t feel good about myself right now. I’m out of shape. This particular holiday is going to remind me of the woman I was going to marry until she decided to stay in Ireland…”
“Which is exactly why St. Patrick’s Day is the perfect time to get back on the horse!” The Prince of Darkness declared with a little too much enthusiasm for my taste. “You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back out there. So many beautiful Irish eyes will be smiling on Friday, and all you’ve got to do is hit them with a little of that charm and wit that you waste on me every Sunday.”
I wasn’t at all convinced by his sales pitch, so I drank some more Snapple.
“I don’t know…”
“That sounds super creepy,” I admitted. “Plus, I see you pulling some Top Gun You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling nonsense.”
“You wouldn’t want me to be the gallant Goose to your miserable Maverick?” The Devil asked as a devilish grin grew across his handsome face.
“That is one mission I would not accept,” I assured him. “Besides, you’re more Goosebumps than Goose, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Diabolical.”
“Kiss me, I’m diabolical,” Lucifer mused with a chuckle. “I”m going to try that one out on the ladies. We should definitely do this.”
“Let me think about it,” I requested. “I don’t want to rush back onto the highway to the danger zone again until I’m sure I’m ready.”
I closed my eyes, sang the song in my head, and thought about my lonely shillelagh…
St. Paddy himself is sure to look upon you kindly if you were to follow me on my blog and on Pinterest…