What Would Satan Do_ - Anthony Miller [124]
Liam, Festus, and Raju made suspicious faces as they peered over and around Lola at her Satanic suitor. Raju rested one hand on her hip, but only for a second.
Satan stood and stepped back, resuming his dramatic – though somewhat effete – Conquistador pose. He had a wry look on his face. “Oh,” he said, “I already know who you are.” They locked eyes for a moment. The Devil’s chest heaved – ever so slightly – and he seemed to drink Lola in with his eyes, like a telenovela actor staring down a busty mamacita, or a really fat guy eyeing a Twinkie. The Governor made a volcanic throat-clearing sound, and Satan’s eyelids drooped to half mast as he took one last, dramatic breath before whirling around to face the phlegmatic politician.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Whitford, his jowls flapping somewhat less indignantly than they might if there had been, say, less weird shit going on that day.
“I am the Devil.” Satan bowed a polite bow.
Behind them, Raju attempted to bend the fingers of the hand that had been on Lola’s hip.
“Wait a second.” Festus stepped forward, his head tilted and eyes squinty. “Who are you?”
Satan spun around and did a double take as he saw Festus. “I just said—” he said. “Why are you – dressed up like that damned – like the Son?”
There was a lot of murmuring and nodding. This was apparently a sore point among other folks there in the hallway. In fact, if he’d been facing a mob armed with pitchforks and other garden implements, Festus might have been in real trouble. Fortunately, it was just the Prince of Darkness, an evil Governor, a corrupt preacher, and a bunch of guys with guns, and so Festus ignored the question. “It’s just that I’m not sure I ever read it prophesied anywhere that the Devil was going to show up with a flaming shotgun. This doesn’t seem right to me,” he said, half to himself. He scratched his beard and looked the Devil in the eye. “I thought you were supposed to have scales. Be a giant snake or something.”
There have been, throughout history, times when the poor, the meek, and the stupid have overcome and crossed the vast gulfs of economic and social circumstance (or the electrified fences) that hold them back, and come face to face with their betters. In these moments, there is always a fleeting instant of openness – the tiniest of tiny pauses – during which the would-be oppressor is thrown off by the sheer, unexpected absurdity of encountering a fool who does not know or recognize his authority (usually born, of course, of inherent superiority). And in that instant, when the face of the Very Important Person falls, shedding its usual protective façade of bemusement and/or disdain, it is possible to see the VIP as he truly is. Satan slumped a little and curled his upper lip in the expression that, everywhere in the known universe, stands for “Huh?”
Festus stared into the weary eyes of the man – or being – in front of him. His own eyes grew so wide that they looked as if they might pop out of his skull. “Tell me, please,” he whispered. “What is your real name?”
Satan regarded his bearded inquisitor for another half instant before regaining his composure. He nodded, took a step back, and unfurled his hangdog posture to stand erect, swinging his arms out to his sides. The flames from the Shotgun of Divine Justice made shwooshy, flapping sounds like a flag buffeted by a gusty wind. He drew a deep, long breath. “I,” he boomed, “am that which results from the cause of causes; the tenth and last emanation. My name is in him.” The walls and floor shuddered and then were silent.
Festus did not move. Whether this is because he was pretending to be a statue, or was adopting the tactic of rabbits and deer who don’t want to be eaten, or just felt like this was a good time to pause and reflect on things for a bit is not certain. The only part of him that provided any hint that he was not made of wax was his face, which moved in slow motion as it rearranged itself into an expression conveying alarm, distress, and general not-wellness.
“You’re the Devil,” he said.