Sonny Palermo
April 9th, 2004, 06:53 PM
Chapter 14
Please allow me to introduce myself.
The second thing you notice about ol’ Satan is his eyes – they’re black as night.
No pupil, no iris, no retina. Just black. Dolls eyes, as Captain Quint would say.
The first thing you notice is no horns, forked tail, or cloven hoofs. Because he doesn’t have any. Never did. And he’s also not red. He’s just a man, created like all men in Gods image. Quite harmless looking really, grandfatherly even, but totally lacking in morality and compassion, probably the worst of all God’s creations, except maybe Newark, New Jersey and Peter Lemongello.
A sociopath with a warped sense of humor and, unfortunately for mankind, the power to indulge it.
Sometimes, when greeting new ‘guests’ who are former artists who depicted him as red and horned in their paintings he will first appear as a meek, little old man. Then, after his new guests get over their initial shock and are comfortable with him, he turns into the great Hell Beast, burnt red, 10 feet tall, with black horns and goatee, pointed tail and cloven hooves. Scares the crap out of them every time. Literally. And, since it’s hell, part of their torment is – no showers. Hey, deal with it sinner. Don’t like it? Should have thought of that before you shtupped your neighbors wife.
Sometimes he has new comers over for a welcoming ‘let’s get acquainted’ reception dinner. A guest finds himself seated alone at the far end of looooong table. At the opposite end sits Satan and two others. They look familiar but the guest can’t quite place them. One is a skinny, bespectacled white dude, with a head so thin it looks like it got caught in a vise. The other was the complete opposite, a rotund black man, wearing some type of military get up with about a hundred medals on his chest.
The dinner fare tastes excellent, and in a feeble attempt to ingratiate himself to his new host the new comer comments on how great the food is.
“I can’t remember ever having this particular type of meat, tastes like chicken, what is it?”
“Hey Idi”, Lucifer says, “he says it tastes like chicken.”
The fat man emits a booming laugh, and repeats Satans words in a thick accent, "id tastes joost like uh chickeen."
Then to his guest, Satan says, “Mr. Dahmer and General Amin agree with you and think you have very discerning taste buds!”
The three of them bust up laughing as they watch the guest turn various shades of white, then green, before vomiting all over the table.
And, being hell – no toothpaste or mouthwash allowed.
Because God had for years been virtually ignoring Earth Satan had come to consider it as his personal playground. And losing one of his pawns, Father O’Ryan, greatly upset him. It was a mixed blessing though – he took pleasure in knowing that the Son of God had lost his temper and struck down the not-so-good Father O’Ryan. And he knew just how to rub it in…..
Cherub to God, “Lucifer on line one for You.”
God, hushing everyone around him, “Tell him I’m not home.”
“Too late, he heard you talking.”
God moans “I damn it! Ok, put him through.” He picks up the phone. “Beezelbub you old soul stealer you, how the hell are ya?” God covers the phone and they all laugh at His little pun about ‘hell’.
Satan sighs, “It’s ‘Beelzebub not Beezelbub and You know it. How am I? I’m surrounded by life’s losers, the dregs of society, the humus of humanity, the crud of the crop. I got rapists, murderers, thieves and perverts all around me, rotting and burning, they are my people, I am their sovereign. How do you think I’m doing?” I’m LOVING it of course!”
“How’s the weather down there?” God covers the phone again and joins in the muffled laughter of those around Him.
Satan has heard this a thousand times. He recognizes the setup and though bored plays along anyway knowing he’s about to have the last laugh. “It’s about 150 degrees.”
“Well, at least it’s a dry heat!” At this God and his entourage bust out laughing, the sound of it coming through the phone, irritating the Devil.
Regaining his composure God says “Listen Lucifer, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m very busy, what can I do for you?”
Satan informs Him “Death’s been talking behind your back, says he’s fed up with your meddling. I just thought you might like to know about it.”
God, in the “I know you are but what am I” tone of a petulant child, says, “nice of you to call, but have you forgotten? I AM all knowing, so I already knew that”. Covering the phone he motions to one of the cherubs and says in a menacing voice “Get the Grim Reaper in here. Now!”
“Well, I know you’re always busy so I thought you might have missed that one. Just trying to be helpful you know, don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“Of course not. Not YOU” God replies. “I gotta get going, you take care now.”
“One more thing Father. Congratulations on the fine work done by your Son.”
“What do you mean?”
Satan delivers the triumphant blow, “You mean YOU, don’t KNOW? Oops, I guess He was going to surprise you. Never mind.”
Click. Dial Tone…..
God yells at the cherubs “find my Son, bring Him here. NOW!”
Chapter 15
It was a handcuffed Jesus that was led into the Clark County Sheriffs office.
I was taken to an interrogation room, accompanied by detective Pat Majerski, whom had taken custody from the arresting officers. He offers me a seat and begins his task.
“You look vaguely familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”
“No, I replied, we have never met.”
“OK. I’m going to need some background information, then we’ll have to take your fingerprints. Let’s start with your name.”
“I am He that has come before and promised to come again.”
“Kinda long for a name. Is that what it says on your drivers license?”
“I have no license.”
“OK, what’s it say on your birth certificate?”
“ I have none. When I was born no such records were kept.”
“OK”, an exasperated Majerski says, “let’s try this a different way. What does your family call you?”
“My Father calls me son.”
Sensing he was gonna be in for a long night of pulling teeth Majerski muttered “Jesus” to himself.
“That too.”
“What?” said Majerski, clearly surprised that information was being volunteered.
“I said ‘Jesus’. Sometimes my Father calls me Jesus.”
“You mean you’re the Son of God?”
“I am the Son of God, the brother of all men.”
Amused, Majerski offered “well, that would explain the get up you’re wearing. You can’t expect to tell someone you’re Jesus and not get looked at like you’re an escaped mental patient.”
“I have done so for my entire life, and never received that particular reaction. Still, I understand your lack of faith. After all, it’s what caused you to abandon the priesthood and answer a different calling, right Pat?”
“How the hell do you know about that?”
Majerski decided to play along.
“Mothers name?”
“My mother is the Madonna.”
“You mean the singer.”
Outraged I scold him, “NO, not the slut, and you'd better hope that Mary didn’t hear you say that, she’s pretty pissed about the whole thing. THE Madonna. You know, the Virgin Mary, wife of Joseph, mother of God?”
“Oh yeah, her. I knew that one. OK, smart guy, how about making with a little miracle so as to shore up my faith that you are who you claim to be. I’m not a very demanding guy, I’m not asking for anything elaborate like raising the dead or parting Lake Mead. How about something simple, like uhh (he looks around the room) make this table rise.”
I look at him with disappointed astonishment.
“Make the table rise? Really John, what am I a magician? If you want to see cheap parlor tricks why don’t you go see David Copperfield at the Mirage, I hear he’s quite good. How about I hover for you instead?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, hover. You people seem to think we just hover around above you all day, perhaps a practical demonstration would allow you to have faith?”
“All right, enough clowning around buddy, what did you do to Father O’Ryan?”
“I spoke to him, that is all.”
“And then he burst into flames, just like that?”
“There are cameras in the courtroom. They will not show me dousing him with flammable liquids then flicking my bic in his direction. Call it spontaneous combustion. Call it justice.
In any case, as you have no cause to hold me, and no reason to fear me, I ask that you release me and let me be on my way, as I have much work to do.”
“Oh yeah, like what, got to go barbecue a couple nuns? And I got cause to hold you. I could charge you with vagrancy. You have no ID on you.”
“I have no pockets.” Jesus smiled warmly.
“Look Detective, you know Father O’Ryan got what he deserved, and you are not all together unpleased by the outcome. I really must be going now.”
Majerski steps outside to speak to his superiors. He handed them the notes he had taken of the meeting.
His captain says, “his first name is hay-zoos?
(he pronounced the name ‘Jesus’ as the Spanish do, ‘hay-zoos’). What’s his last name?”
“It’s Jesus, pronounced ‘gee-zus’ as in the Son of God.”
The captain gave him an “oh, it’s one of them” kind of glance. “Twenty years of pulling night shift in this loony town, I’ve met 3 elvis’s, one Teddy Roosevelt, and two Einsteins’ but this is my first Jesus. I’m not sure what to do with this one. Especially since I’m a Jew. Well, we can’t charge him with anything so I guess we let him go.”
Majerski returns to the interview room. He feels something warm towards the long haired stranger, something he can’t describe.
“The captain says to turn you loose. Do you have a home? Anywhere to go? Any money?”
“The church is my home. And no, I have no money.”
“Well, here’s twenty bucks, it’s all I have on me. And stay out of trouble!”
Please allow me to introduce myself.
The second thing you notice about ol’ Satan is his eyes – they’re black as night.
No pupil, no iris, no retina. Just black. Dolls eyes, as Captain Quint would say.
The first thing you notice is no horns, forked tail, or cloven hoofs. Because he doesn’t have any. Never did. And he’s also not red. He’s just a man, created like all men in Gods image. Quite harmless looking really, grandfatherly even, but totally lacking in morality and compassion, probably the worst of all God’s creations, except maybe Newark, New Jersey and Peter Lemongello.
A sociopath with a warped sense of humor and, unfortunately for mankind, the power to indulge it.
Sometimes, when greeting new ‘guests’ who are former artists who depicted him as red and horned in their paintings he will first appear as a meek, little old man. Then, after his new guests get over their initial shock and are comfortable with him, he turns into the great Hell Beast, burnt red, 10 feet tall, with black horns and goatee, pointed tail and cloven hooves. Scares the crap out of them every time. Literally. And, since it’s hell, part of their torment is – no showers. Hey, deal with it sinner. Don’t like it? Should have thought of that before you shtupped your neighbors wife.
Sometimes he has new comers over for a welcoming ‘let’s get acquainted’ reception dinner. A guest finds himself seated alone at the far end of looooong table. At the opposite end sits Satan and two others. They look familiar but the guest can’t quite place them. One is a skinny, bespectacled white dude, with a head so thin it looks like it got caught in a vise. The other was the complete opposite, a rotund black man, wearing some type of military get up with about a hundred medals on his chest.
The dinner fare tastes excellent, and in a feeble attempt to ingratiate himself to his new host the new comer comments on how great the food is.
“I can’t remember ever having this particular type of meat, tastes like chicken, what is it?”
“Hey Idi”, Lucifer says, “he says it tastes like chicken.”
The fat man emits a booming laugh, and repeats Satans words in a thick accent, "id tastes joost like uh chickeen."
Then to his guest, Satan says, “Mr. Dahmer and General Amin agree with you and think you have very discerning taste buds!”
The three of them bust up laughing as they watch the guest turn various shades of white, then green, before vomiting all over the table.
And, being hell – no toothpaste or mouthwash allowed.
Because God had for years been virtually ignoring Earth Satan had come to consider it as his personal playground. And losing one of his pawns, Father O’Ryan, greatly upset him. It was a mixed blessing though – he took pleasure in knowing that the Son of God had lost his temper and struck down the not-so-good Father O’Ryan. And he knew just how to rub it in…..
Cherub to God, “Lucifer on line one for You.”
God, hushing everyone around him, “Tell him I’m not home.”
“Too late, he heard you talking.”
God moans “I damn it! Ok, put him through.” He picks up the phone. “Beezelbub you old soul stealer you, how the hell are ya?” God covers the phone and they all laugh at His little pun about ‘hell’.
Satan sighs, “It’s ‘Beelzebub not Beezelbub and You know it. How am I? I’m surrounded by life’s losers, the dregs of society, the humus of humanity, the crud of the crop. I got rapists, murderers, thieves and perverts all around me, rotting and burning, they are my people, I am their sovereign. How do you think I’m doing?” I’m LOVING it of course!”
“How’s the weather down there?” God covers the phone again and joins in the muffled laughter of those around Him.
Satan has heard this a thousand times. He recognizes the setup and though bored plays along anyway knowing he’s about to have the last laugh. “It’s about 150 degrees.”
“Well, at least it’s a dry heat!” At this God and his entourage bust out laughing, the sound of it coming through the phone, irritating the Devil.
Regaining his composure God says “Listen Lucifer, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m very busy, what can I do for you?”
Satan informs Him “Death’s been talking behind your back, says he’s fed up with your meddling. I just thought you might like to know about it.”
God, in the “I know you are but what am I” tone of a petulant child, says, “nice of you to call, but have you forgotten? I AM all knowing, so I already knew that”. Covering the phone he motions to one of the cherubs and says in a menacing voice “Get the Grim Reaper in here. Now!”
“Well, I know you’re always busy so I thought you might have missed that one. Just trying to be helpful you know, don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“Of course not. Not YOU” God replies. “I gotta get going, you take care now.”
“One more thing Father. Congratulations on the fine work done by your Son.”
“What do you mean?”
Satan delivers the triumphant blow, “You mean YOU, don’t KNOW? Oops, I guess He was going to surprise you. Never mind.”
Click. Dial Tone…..
God yells at the cherubs “find my Son, bring Him here. NOW!”
Chapter 15
It was a handcuffed Jesus that was led into the Clark County Sheriffs office.
I was taken to an interrogation room, accompanied by detective Pat Majerski, whom had taken custody from the arresting officers. He offers me a seat and begins his task.
“You look vaguely familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”
“No, I replied, we have never met.”
“OK. I’m going to need some background information, then we’ll have to take your fingerprints. Let’s start with your name.”
“I am He that has come before and promised to come again.”
“Kinda long for a name. Is that what it says on your drivers license?”
“I have no license.”
“OK, what’s it say on your birth certificate?”
“ I have none. When I was born no such records were kept.”
“OK”, an exasperated Majerski says, “let’s try this a different way. What does your family call you?”
“My Father calls me son.”
Sensing he was gonna be in for a long night of pulling teeth Majerski muttered “Jesus” to himself.
“That too.”
“What?” said Majerski, clearly surprised that information was being volunteered.
“I said ‘Jesus’. Sometimes my Father calls me Jesus.”
“You mean you’re the Son of God?”
“I am the Son of God, the brother of all men.”
Amused, Majerski offered “well, that would explain the get up you’re wearing. You can’t expect to tell someone you’re Jesus and not get looked at like you’re an escaped mental patient.”
“I have done so for my entire life, and never received that particular reaction. Still, I understand your lack of faith. After all, it’s what caused you to abandon the priesthood and answer a different calling, right Pat?”
“How the hell do you know about that?”
Majerski decided to play along.
“Mothers name?”
“My mother is the Madonna.”
“You mean the singer.”
Outraged I scold him, “NO, not the slut, and you'd better hope that Mary didn’t hear you say that, she’s pretty pissed about the whole thing. THE Madonna. You know, the Virgin Mary, wife of Joseph, mother of God?”
“Oh yeah, her. I knew that one. OK, smart guy, how about making with a little miracle so as to shore up my faith that you are who you claim to be. I’m not a very demanding guy, I’m not asking for anything elaborate like raising the dead or parting Lake Mead. How about something simple, like uhh (he looks around the room) make this table rise.”
I look at him with disappointed astonishment.
“Make the table rise? Really John, what am I a magician? If you want to see cheap parlor tricks why don’t you go see David Copperfield at the Mirage, I hear he’s quite good. How about I hover for you instead?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, hover. You people seem to think we just hover around above you all day, perhaps a practical demonstration would allow you to have faith?”
“All right, enough clowning around buddy, what did you do to Father O’Ryan?”
“I spoke to him, that is all.”
“And then he burst into flames, just like that?”
“There are cameras in the courtroom. They will not show me dousing him with flammable liquids then flicking my bic in his direction. Call it spontaneous combustion. Call it justice.
In any case, as you have no cause to hold me, and no reason to fear me, I ask that you release me and let me be on my way, as I have much work to do.”
“Oh yeah, like what, got to go barbecue a couple nuns? And I got cause to hold you. I could charge you with vagrancy. You have no ID on you.”
“I have no pockets.” Jesus smiled warmly.
“Look Detective, you know Father O’Ryan got what he deserved, and you are not all together unpleased by the outcome. I really must be going now.”
Majerski steps outside to speak to his superiors. He handed them the notes he had taken of the meeting.
His captain says, “his first name is hay-zoos?
(he pronounced the name ‘Jesus’ as the Spanish do, ‘hay-zoos’). What’s his last name?”
“It’s Jesus, pronounced ‘gee-zus’ as in the Son of God.”
The captain gave him an “oh, it’s one of them” kind of glance. “Twenty years of pulling night shift in this loony town, I’ve met 3 elvis’s, one Teddy Roosevelt, and two Einsteins’ but this is my first Jesus. I’m not sure what to do with this one. Especially since I’m a Jew. Well, we can’t charge him with anything so I guess we let him go.”
Majerski returns to the interview room. He feels something warm towards the long haired stranger, something he can’t describe.
“The captain says to turn you loose. Do you have a home? Anywhere to go? Any money?”
“The church is my home. And no, I have no money.”
“Well, here’s twenty bucks, it’s all I have on me. And stay out of trouble!”