Tea With The Archangel

“Look, Michael,” I said impatiently. “I’m not complaining. I know my role. I just think a little equanimity might be in order here on Earth.”

Michael said, “What do you mean?”

“I catch flack over everything that happens. Earthquake, flood, disease, everybody automatically blames me, Satan. Tsunami? Satan. Volcano? Satan! I get worse press than Lindsay Lohan! Your boss controls the fates. He flooded the whole PLANET for crying out loud, and NUKED two cities! Why can’t I get a break?”

Michael looked at me evenly. “You knew this was going to be a crap job when you took it. Besides, you’ve got your followers.”

“Yeah,” I said bitterly. “Blame me for Muslim terrorists.”

“C’mon, Satan,” He said gently. “Drink your tea. We can work on this. Maybe work up a PBS Special on the benefits of Evil over the long haul. Don’t get discouraged.”

I just couldn’t help myself. I busted a cap in his condescending ass. He’ll resurrect tomorrow and when he does, he’ll be pissed, but it was worth it.

I feel better now.

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