Hot As Hell (Not!)

O how I abhor it,

When foolish mortals,

A species who wasted

The gift of Free Will,

And is on the verge

Of destroying the planet

With which they were gifted,

Try to tell me,

The Prince of Darkness

And Ruler of Eternal Hellfire,

That the current temperature

Is hot as Hell!

Such imbeciles!

Why do they speak

With such confidence

About things of which

They have absolutely no knowledge?

The coldest corner of Hell

Is exponentially hotter

Than the warmest place

On the precious planet

They seem absolutely hellbent

On demolishing!

Stop inserting the name

Of my beloved kingdom,

Which will still be here

Long after you have all

Returned to the dust,

Into your weather reports!

You have no concept

Of how hot it is

In Hell,

But mark my words,

That will change

For so many of you

In the coming years!

Speak not of Hell again,

For you are not worthy

To have its name

On your pathetic lips.

“Wow, you really do paint quite the picture with your words,” I told the Devil after I’d finally finished his poem.

“Do you truly mean that?” Lucifer asked anxiously and finally stopped pacing.

While he was well dressed, as always, in an impeccably tailored suit, he did look a little rumpled today.  I guess the uncertainty of how an audience will respond to your writing affects everyone differently.

I took a long sip of my Snapple as I mentally formulated a reply to his question.

“There’s no doubt that you have a clear vision, a distinct voice, and a masterful control of words,” I answered as ambiguously as possible.

Poetry really isn’t my thing, as many of you know from reading the poems I’ve posted on this blog.  All I knew was that it didn’t rhyme, so it was the kind of poem that’s supposed to create a mental image for the reader.

At the moment, the only mental image I had was of The Prince of Darkness standing over me, with a look of uncontrolled rage on his handsome face, as he drove his pitchfork angrily into my chest because I stupidly told him I thought his poem was weird.

So I just gave him some nonsensical feedback and hoped that would be enough.

“Is there any chance you’d ever post it on your blog?” Satan asked with hope in his voice and a nervous smile on his lips.

I chugged the rest of my Snapple and pondered his query.

“How about I run it today instead of our usual Sunday short story?” I offered and then silently prayed that this would be the last item he ever submitted to the blog.

“You’d really do that for me?” The Devil asked, obviously touched by my gesture.

“Sure,” I assured him.  “It’s hot as Hell today and I really don’t have the energy to write anything myself.”

Lucifer glared at me and shook his head in disapproval, but he dared not say anything because he was afraid I’d change my mind about publishing his poem.

Follow me on my blog and on Pinterest, or I will publish even more of The Devil’s horrible poetry!