THE DEVIL'S VICES

        Jeremiah Huffington is just about all set to begin work as the interim acting Death.  One of the only loose ends that needs to be tied up today, is that the Devil still needs to sign off on what is called an "all access" unrestricted pass to Hades.  Although Reapers are obviously granted regular access to Hades, this "all access" pass is something which is exclusively given to Death himself, and allows him entrance to many otherwise exclusive parts of purgatory.

        When I met up with the Devil in Hell today, he was smoking a cigar and watching videos from his Reaper porn collection.  I showed him the documents that needed to be signed, and I received  a very lukewarm response.

        "I don't know about this... I don't like Jeremiah," he said.  

        "I realize that a lot of people do not like him," I said, "but the Reapublic unanimously agreed to it, and we both know he's competent.  At least you won't have to worry about busloads of nuns getting dropped off in Hell."

        The Devil  thought about it for a moment.  "I forgot about those nuns.  They were a bunch of prudes, no?"

        In the past, I would've argued with the Devil when he made a statement along these lines.  Thankfully, I've learned my lesson, and I now no longer engage in these discussions.  I have already wasted way too many Saturdays over the centuries explaining  to him how all women who lack interest in him, are not automatically "lesbians."  

        The Devil, always suspicious of everyone, continued to read over and examine the papers that I passed on to him.  He motioned to the pile of Reaper porn dvds sitting next to him.  

        "Ever seen Last Tango in Hades?"

        "No," I said.  "You know I don't care for Reaper porn."

        "The Scytheman Cummeth?"

        "No.  Never seen it."

        "Girls In the Hood? or 9 1/2 Billion years?"

        "Again.  No and no.  I've never even heard of these films."

        "Fatal Attraction or Saving Schlomo's Privates?"

       My patience ended at this point, and I asked the Devil to please stop talking about his Reaper porn collection, and to sign off on the documents that I had handed to him.   After accusing me of being as prudish as the nuns, the Devil took note of how the documents needed to be notarized.  He said that he knew an excellent demon notary, but the guy was currently eating somebody's flesh, and it would be rude and intrusive to interrupt the fella's dinner.  We agreed the Devil would hold onto the forms and turn them over by the end of the weekend.  

        Before I took off, the Devil looked at me with a pathetic face and asked whether I thought it was his Reaper porn habit that caused his ex-wife Lucinda to leave him.  Again, this is a question that he has asked me way too many times  to count; each time acting as if he's suddenly just raising the question for the first time.  

        "I told you already, a million times why Lucinda left you.  You slept with hundreds of women, you took drugs, you beat her, you gambled away her possessions, you set fire to her younger sister, and she even once caught you sexually attacking your pet chinchilla."  

        The Devil became immediately defensive.  "That chinchilla thing was consensual." 

       I shook my head at him and said that I needed to leave and get back to Manhattan.  He continued on with his typical rambling about how "Lucinda expected him to be perfect" and how she had faults as well.

       "I've heard this before," I said, "you've told me millions of times."

       "Did I ever tell you how she refused to cook on weekends?"

       "Yes," I said, "you did."

        As I politely waved goodbye and backed away, the Devil assured me that he would indeed sign the forms, though he maintained serious reservations about the choice of Jeremiah. Hopefully, his instincts, like in most other cases, will prove to be wrong.