Unlikely 2.0


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Editors' Notes

Maria Damon and Michelle Greenblatt
Jim Leftwich and Michelle Greenblatt
Sheila E. Murphy and Michelle Greenblatt

A Visual Conversation on Michelle Greenblatt's ASHES AND SEEDS with Stephen Harrison, Monika Mori | MOO, Jonathan Penton and Michelle Greenblatt

Letters for Michelle: with work by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, Jeffrey Side, Larry Goodell, mark hartenbach, Charles J. Butler, Alexandria Bryan and Brian Kovich

Visual Poetry by Reed Altemus
Poetry by Glen Armstrong
Poetry by Lana Bella
A Eulogic Poem by John M. Bennett
Elegic Poetry by John M. Bennett
Poetry by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
A Eulogy by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Vincent A. Cellucci
Poetry by Joel Chace
A Spoken Word Poem and Visual Art by K.R. Copeland
A Eulogy by Alan Fyfe
Poetry by Win Harms
Poetry by Carolyn Hembree
Poetry by Cindy Hochman
A Eulogy by Steffen Horstmann
A Eulogic Poem by Dylan Krieger
An Elegic Poem by Dylan Krieger
Visual Art by Donna Kuhn
Poetry by Louise Landes Levi
Poetry by Jim Lineberger
Poetry by Dennis Mahagin
Poetry by Peter Marra
A Eulogy by Frankie Metro
A Song by Alexis Moon and Jonathan Penton
Poetry by Jay Passer
A Eulogy by Jonathan Penton
Visual Poetry by Anne Elezabeth Pluto and Bryson Dean-Gauthier
Visual Art by Marthe Reed
A Eulogy by Gabriel Ricard
Poetry by Alison Ross
A Short Movie by Bernd Sauermann
Poetry by Christopher Shipman
A Spoken Word Poem by Larissa Shmailo
A Eulogic Poem by Jay Sizemore
Elegic Poetry by Jay Sizemore
Poetry by Felino A. Soriano
Visual Art by Jamie Stoneman
Poetry by Ray Succre
Poetry by Yuriy Tarnawsky
A Song by Marc Vincenz


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from Anti-Christ: A Satirical End of Days
Part 3

Matthew sat at the bar, spinning his glass of jack and coke, the seats on either side empty. The room was packed with those who looked for escape from the bright world around them in this sealed, dim, musty place where a drink made you numb, and a bottle helped you to forget.

Matthew looked up at the television mounted on the wall where the news was being broadcast, the single shining object in the gloom. The blaze of the news illuminated Matthew's face in the shaded confines, life reflected on his glasses. After the priest had been arrested he had started talking, talking about things no one even knew the Church had been behind all for the price of immunity.

Seemed the Church scandal was causing a monumental rift in society: suicide was up, crime was rising, and priests were being attacked in the streets. "I guess I got you," Matthew muttered looking up with a weak grin.

The bartender looked over at him, walked up and took his drink away. "Why do all the crazies have to come here?" he asked himself.

Matthew shrugged away his loss. Probably for the best.

A dark figure parted through the morass of worthlessness that swelled within the room. He seemed to come from nowhere, as if spawned by the pool of depression, its personification wading to the surface of reality. His height was not exceptional, his suit drab and faded, worn and scuffed. He had a coarse face, lined and pale with an expression as empty as a drunk's shot glass. Dark shades concealed his eyes. With a stride that was jerky but centered, he approached the bar.

He dropped onto the stool next to Matthew, pulling a pack of cigarettes from the blackness within his jacket. The cigarette packet was ebony and spotted with dirt. He took one of the mud colored sticks and thrust it in his rancid, purple mouth, lighting and taking a drag in one fluid motion. His chapped lips lovingly sucked at the cigarette.

"Hey, buddy, no smoking in here," the bartender warned.

The man pulled the cigarette out, letting a trail of smothering fog ooze out both nostrils as he held the smoking stick in his right hand while putting his arms up in defense, the flame reflected in his shades. "Come on, friend," he jokingly pleaded. "Have a heart."

"Put it out before I put you out," the bartender replied, first pointing at the cigarette then the door.

"How tired I grow of rules," the figure muttered as he dropped the cigarette to the floor and ground it beneath his weathered, leather heel leaving a black smear across the floor. The man slipped the bartender a sideways grin as he walked off to serve someone else.

The figure turned to watch the television. He stopped after a few seconds, interested in Matthew sitting next to him. "Shit world. Sad day when you can't even trust God. Then again," the man frowned, "he's just as flawed as the rest of us."

Matthew looked away from the screen to see his new companion. He saw the guy, nodded, and went back to watching.

"Had it coming, though. Holier than thou hypocritical pricks. Do as I say, not as I do." The man turned to Matthew with a crooked smirk. "Don't feel guilty do you?"

"Why would I feel guilty?" Matthew asked, trying to ignore the man. Why must everyone bother him?

"I think you know why, Matthew."

Matthew's heart felt a stab at the sound of his name. His eyes crawled to the side searching, first for the origin of this orthodox man and then for possible escape routes. "How the hell do you...you're not-" Matthew looked up at the ceiling. He looked back down at his new companion and started to get off the stool.

The figure grabbed Matthew by the shirt and pulled him back down. "No, don't worry about that. Just a fan."

"A fan?"

"Of course." The man grinned, revealing chipped yellow teeth. "You made a stand against the establishment," the man leaned in, "and won. You don't know how long I've waited for something like that." His eyes widened briefly. "About time someone taught his miraculous ass a lesson."

Matthew watched the man warily, not sure what to make of him. The guy was weirding him out.

The man seemed to feed on his discomfort. "Of course, once all this dies down he will be coming for you, and I do mean hard." Matthew winced. "He can be spiteful. He isn't as forgiving as most would make you think."

"Great. Just great. Dude," Matthew rapped on the bar for attention, "can I have another?" The bartender looked at Matthew and walked the other way.

"No respect." The figure shook his head woefully. "No one respects you. Nothing but bull shit. We all know the truth. They underestimate you. Look at you. You deserve better. But you won't get it. Why? Because of the cards they dealt you. You didn't choose this life. Everything in it has been forced on you without even the slightest opportunity to turn it around. The minute you try to live your life for the better, for yourself, they smack you down while the less worthy get all they want for less effort. What did they ever do to deserve such blessings? Why should you kill yourself to merely survive, while sycophants and morons get all they want and more for the most mediocre of actions?" As the man spoke, he became excited, his words running together as his mouth proved unable to keep up with his sharp mind.

"Yeah," Matthew nodded his head, sipping the bile and acquiring a taste for it.

The figure continued to pour, happily. "The man upstairs tells you to accept all that happens faithfully. Why? Why can't you understand why you suffer?"

Matthew nodded his head, not sure what to say.

"I'll tell you why. Because if you knew," the man slapped Matthew on the breast, "the worthless purpose you serve to him you wouldn't allow the abuse in the first place. You mean nothing to him. You're just another number in the scheme of things."

"I wish I was just a number." Matthew sighed, a little drunk.

The man smiled. "No you don't." Matthew looked over at him. "You wish you had some reason to be. You want a purpose. You don't have one, never have. I can change that," he slyly offered, his graceful yet common hand touching his faded chest. "In fact, I can help you get that prick off your ass and achieve the destiny you are entitled to." Matthew laughed silently. The man's grin slipped into a frown. "What?"

"You're going to help me?" Matthew asked, incredulously.

"Why do you find that so funny?" The figure was not amused, his words slowing.

Matthew continued to laugh. "You look like a shell of an insurance salesman." Matthew really started to chortle. "Wait, are you like some interdimensional lawyer that is going to help me file a civil suit against Heaven? If so I hope you work pro bono because I think I spent my last dollar on a drink...which was unfairly taken!" Matthew yelled down the bar at the bartender who returned the look none too nicely.

"Funny," the figure replied, though it was obvious he didn't mean it as he scowled. "But I'm no simple lawyer."

"Oh!" Matthew replied sarcastically. "Let me guess. You will give me what I want in exchange for my soul. Ooo whoo whoo whoo!" Matthew laughed a little louder.

The man cackled like breaking bone and slid his shades down his nose revealing yellow, bloodshot eyes deeply set in purple, fleshy sockets. "I've already got too many."

"Fuck!" Matthew and stool went to the ground in frightened, theatrical fashion. The wood of the stool clacked loudly throughout the bar yet drew no one's attention. The man retracted his glasses, shading his tainted eyes, and extended a hand. Matthew looked around for help, but everyone remained too involved in their own petty lives. Only one being offered him aid.

Matthew looked at the dirty, calloused hand and then at the plain face that hovered above him. "Uh, excuse me if I don't accept." Matthew pushed himself up, slowly getting to his feet. He was shaking, frightened at his companion. He nearly fell off the stool as he went to sit again.

"You don't need to fear me, Matthew." The Devil smirked. "I like you. We have so much in common."

"Yeah, I feel much better now."

"Why the hostility?" The Devil seemed genuinely hurt.

Matthew's face was twisted by both sarcasm and horror. "You don't exactly have the best reputation," he stammered wishing he still had his confiscated drink.

"You saw Heaven. You met Jesus. Did they live up to their reputation?" Satan asked. "Can Jesus' worst enemy really be that bad?" Matthew sat still, a little confused but too rigid to make a run for it. Did all important religious figures toy with people like this? He felt like a mouse in the claws of a Siamese. "Just...have a talk with me. I'm not asking for anything else." He scratched little lines into the bar with his jagged nails, the sound putting Matthew on edge. "If you don't like what I have to say I'll take you wherever you want and...drop you off." The Devil smiled at that last part. “Never hurt to listen to anyone, has it?"

Matthew cobbled together a half smile, too nervous to even pretend properly. “You never know," he quipped, his hand rattling on the bar in fear. Both the Devil and Matthew stared at it. Matthew quickly grabbed it and tried to still the shaking. “I think I need to...to go." Matthew sprung from his stool and hurried past Satan with a quick step, tripping over a chair on the way. The Devil watched him go.

Matthew was on the street in seconds. The streetlights illuminated only parts of the darkened road, large sections nothing but void as if uncreated. The night was silent compared to the bar whose noise went still as its light was lost behind the closing door.

Matthew stumbled into the cold night, away from his new found friend and the possible problems he could bring. He had pissed off Jesus. He definitely didn't need to anger the Devil himself.

The street was deserted. Nothing stirred. The windows of the buildings he passed were blacked out, hollowed out husks where life no longer existed. Trees reached with skeletal branches and scratched at him. The cold air sucked the warmth from his flesh as it passed. The squeaking of his shoes seemed loud in his pink ears.

“Do you know how many people wish they could have a talk with me?" Satan stepped out of the darkness, his face concerned.

“I'm glad you want to help me," Matthew started, extending his hand to make sure the Devil didn't get any closer as he backed up. “But I think I would rather deal with this on my own." Matthew turned to walk the other way and made a few steps before the Devil stepped out in front of him again, the shadows parting to release him. Matthew stopped where he was, looked behind him and back again.

"I'm not used to rejection." Satan smirked, clearly enjoying the chase. “Would it really be so bad to hear what I have to say? I'm not asking you to do anything."

Matthew covered his ears. "You do know this state has an anti-stalking law, right?" The Devil frowned at that comment. Matthew started to walk in the other direction, gradually turning into a sprint. He looked over his shoulder as he went, the Devil still there, a shadow in the light. Didn't Heaven and Hell have better things to do than fuck with him on a winter night? Existence couldn't be that dull. As he turned to look where he was going he slammed right into a streetlight. Unlike the movies and cartoons there was no dong. Matthew's nose ached, blood trickling out. Matthew moaned as he grabbed his nose. It was already swelling.

Without warning he felt something grab his jacket and pull up. He was sucked into the sky, the ground falling away as the emptiness stacked up beneath him. Matthew's screams were wrenched from his throat and stolen by the winter winds. The air pulled at him as gravity became fiction. The speed of his ascent tore the whole of everything into streaks of incomprehensibility. The buildings became miniscule as Matthew dared to look down.

“Oh God," Matthew whimpered, closing his eyes tightly.

Then gravity came back. Matthew felt himself falling. Oh no! Matthew started screaming again as he dropped six feet and landed on something solid. He patted in his blindness. The ground seemed hard enough. He tested it a few times with the tap of a hand before he tried to stand. His legs gave out underneath him, the event a little too traumatic. He started muttering incomprehensible gibberish in a state of shock.

"Matthew," Satan called. "Matthew. Matthew!" Matthew's eyes snapped open. "I'd cut that shit out if I were you." Satan floated there, in the midnight hour, looking down at him. It was as if his weight returned in the blink of an eye as the Devil landed on the ground in front of him, dust poofing out beneath his feet. They were on some tall building looking out at the skyline of the city, the distant lights as close to touch as the stars above. Satan started out towards the edge, still watching Matthew. He paused after a few steps, pointing at Matthew palm up. "The ride not up to your liking?"

Matthew looked down at the wet spot of his pants where his bladder had rained its golden drops. Yeah, real manly. Satan should respect him now. "I...uh...had a lot to drink and...uh...it's cold outside-"

"It's alright," the Devil replied. "Your secret is safe with me."

“Right." Matthew continued to sit on the ground, brushing himself off. “Do you?" he asked, gesturing to his wet crotch.

“Oh yes," Satan pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tossed it to Matthew to dab at himself, a short, sharp wind carrying it to Matthew's hands. “You can keep it." The Devil continued to the edge, jumping up onto the boundary between a solid foundation and a steep drop.

“Thanks," Matthew sheepishly replied with grudging gratitude as he dabbed at himself. He sniffed snot and blood back up his runny, broken nose.

The Devil looked at him, tilting his shades down. "I know I say this everytime, but you are clearly not what I expected."

Matthew found the courage to stand up and walk towards Satan. Something drew him towards this dark prince. As Matthew reached the narrow road Satan walked, that edge of the sword, he looked away to avoid that gaze that compelled him, ordered him. He leaned over the side of the building and saw the vast gulf below. He let out a curse, falling back to his knees. He worked to steady his breathing. He looked up, back into that gaze. "I guess I'm not leaving until I listen." The Devil smiled and nodded, pointing at his head. "You said you wanted to help me with my problem."

Satan turned to scrutinize the skyline, glimpsing those lives that burned before him. "So many souls out there, Matthew. Each with problems. Each with questions. Each separated by a distance they can never close nor shorten." He continued to gaze out at the world.

"Pretty lights but my problem," Matthew prodded, wanting to go home as soon as he could.

Matthew broke the spell of the city. "Oh yes. Him." The Devil pointed up before looking back at Matthew. "He is a piece of work, isn't he? Hard to admire the pussy." He pulled out that bare packet of cigarettes and lit another in the same fluid motion, taking a long drag and expelling the toxins with an orgasmic exhale. Satan raised the cigarette to eye level and turned to Matthew. "Hard to believe people hate this thing more than me." He could sense Matthew's continuing discomfort. "Ever thought of smoking?"

"No," Matthew got out.

"Too bad. Really helps relax you." He glided over to Matthew and knelt down, offering the cigarette to him. "Sure you don't want to try it?" Satan's hand wavered, the cigarette right in front of him.

"I really don't-"

"If you're afraid of cancer don't worry. That's not how you go."

"You know how I'm going to die?" Matthew blurted.

Satan smiled that cracked yellow smile, black grit between his teeth. He offered the cigarette again. Matthew took it and sucked down a gasp of foul smoke, his body rejecting and hacking it back up. Matthew coughed loudly as the Devil took it back.

"Good shit, huh?" He laughed as he patted the smoke out of Matthew, taking another drag. "So, why do you continue to believe in all this garbage?"

"What…" Matthew coughed some more. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" the Devil asked mockingly. "I mean the whole sham of Christianity. There is no one so blind as he who will not see." The Devil cackled. Matthew was unable to answer, looking away at the lights in the distance. "You've seen what Christianity really is."

"It's a little dull-"

"Christianity is mindless, hypocritical nonsense!" Satan calmed himself down. "Surely you can't really feel guilt over revealing what was beyond the veil to the rest of humanity. Would you rather those priests kept taking advantage of those children? Kept lying about the grandeur of Christ and all that bull shit? Saying the wealth of the world meant nothing as they continued to lie, cheat, and steal all they could and bask in its material comfort?"

Matthew shook his head no.

Satan took a deep breath and sized up Matthew. "You humans. Always so hard to convince." Satan bent down and cupped Matthew's chin, bringing it up. "Do you really think Jesus cares about you? Look at how he's treated you. When you call him is he there? When you need him, does he help?" Matthew shrugged his shoulders. Satan flipped him in the forehead. "Kid, let go of the images. That's all they are."

"Then why don't you enlighten me," Matthew retorted.

Satan smiled that serrated smirk and stood up. "Gladly." He paced the edge of the roof, looking up at the unreachable sky. "Jesus paints himself as some...messiah. He's far from, trust me. Ever since he took over Heaven life has detoured. Now there is no direction, no sense, no purpose."

"I don't follow."

The Devil stretched, reaching for a star. He acted as if he swallowed it in his hand. "You really don't get it." He looked back at Matthew. "Let me fill you in on some things. First of all there is a God. You probably met him. The vegetable on wheels?"

"Yeah, what happened there?"

Satan started to walk around, deliberately balancing on the edge, thousands of feet up, his dark shape blacker than the night. "Well, to understand that you have to understand it all. See, God was numero uno. None of us knows where he came from. He's the quiet type. Sometimes I wonder why he created us-"

"How did that happen?" Matthew asked.

The Devil gave him a wicked smile, cigarette gritted between his jagged teeth, sucking in that foul gray smoke. The world was so distant. "Who really knows," he spoke from the side of his mouth, "And with him being a he, who truly wants to know? It sickens the mind."

"So he created you guys…"

"Yeah, and we walked with him. Listened to what he had to say. We worshipped the guy, our father." The Devil gave that hacking laugh of his before going solemn. "There weren't many of us back then. It all seemed so simple in those times. Before it all happened." Satan gave him an insulting look before flipping his butt to the street far below. "I take after him, you know," the Devil said, his despising face magically transformed into the illusion of sorrow and remembrance.

"Yeah, I see the resemblance."

"Fuck you!" The Devil pointed at him with a serious “don't mess with me" attitude. "Enough of that shit. Where was I?"

"Um, before 'it' happened."

"Yeah. The man had issues. Probably mid-life crisis. Who really knows? He seemed depressed, cried a lot. Do you know what it's like to watch your dad, the Creator, cry like a bitch? That's trauma." The Devil seemed to shiver. "For the longest time he never spoke. He simply wandered. Never really seemed all there. After a while he finally started talking. Talking a lot."

"Why is that important?"

"Words aren't just words when you're God. They're power. They do," Satan waved his hands in the sky, little sparks flying around them, "things. Well, he had a lot of shit to vent. That's where the Big Bang came from."

"You mean what created the universe? The big explosion?"

"That's right! You do hit the books. Yeah, he was feisty. The things he said. Explosive!" Satan had been excitedly moving with his speaking, having to push his shades back up his nose.

"God created the universe, accidentally, because of a mid-life crisis?"

"Not quite as amazing as the bible paints it is it?"

Matthew responded with a disgusted look.

"So he calms it down realizing how much shit he has fucked up. The man has serious anger issues. He sees the universe, hot air and all, and doesn't know exactly what to do. I mean, that burning chaos used to be our backyard! A large chunk of Heaven, gone, just like that!

"Now we had grown up watching all this. Very disturbing. My brothers decided, since I was the oldest, I should have a talk with papa. So I go in and tell it like it is. He can't simply go off at the mouth. It's a little...fiery. Causes major problems for everyone involved. He tells me it's not my fucking business, and in the process, a galaxy is demolished. Well, papa begins to listen.

"So how to mitigate the damage. We set up a charter for how the universe is going to work. No more universally cataclysmic events. The last thing we need to do is have it spread any further which, damnit, it is anyway. Also, God may no longer speak. We'd handle that part. It took a large balancing act to bring the chaos under control. We had to make the universe stable and less random. If we let the chaos continue we'd never be able to contain and control it. So, we created universal law."

"Universal law." Matthew nodded, clearly not getting it.

"Ok, let me put it in simple terms. If everyone were allowed to do simply as they wanted Existence itself would fall apart. God clearly demonstrated that!" The Devil moved erratically with his words. "If things were not set, rules made, then nothing would ever be. It would all simply fall apart in pure anarchy."

"Order, then. You guys made the first laws for order."

"Exactly! Finally, you start to get it. Well, anyway, we all discovered there was a side effect to his rage: you bastards. Well, not you bastards, but those little slimy things that became you bastards. We told him it was his responsibility, since he created you, to watch over and provide for you. That went well until humans popped up. You guys caused real problems.

"We weren't sure what policy should be on you. We've had a hands off approach since the Big Bang, but when I saw humans I thought the policy should change. You guys weren't some rock. You were us. Well, almost like us. Besides, you were the most interesting thing to come around in millennia. If I had to listen to another of Michael's damn jokes..." the Devil balled up his fist.

"Sorry." The Devil seemed embarrassed. "We pow wowed for a few centuries wondering what to do with you. You clearly made mistakes, always holding yourselves back. Should we step in? Should we continue to watch? I said that just leaving you down there was unpardonable. You needed guidance. So I volunteered to go down. Guide you like the big brother that I am.

"Jesus, that brown noser, thought we should just sit back and watch. Why not, he is incapable of ever truly doing anything. He has always been indecisive. That liberal boot licker couldn't take a shit without an hour spent debating whether the mess was worth the release. Besides, he is a real priss. He thought we were above you. He didn't want any of you up there with us. Bring down property values I suppose. He preferred letting you guys take endless millennia trying to achieve the right, and if you became extinct first, oh well, no big loss. Now God is a strange guy but not an idiot. He chose my approach."

"I thought God chose Jesus-"

"If God chose Jesus would you have seen stuff like the flood or the brutal bombing of Sodom? Seriously, humans only get into trouble when left to themselves without guidance. Though I will say God did go overboard, sometimes. The bastard is obsessive-compulsive."

"God is unbalanced?"

"Now I didn't say that. Just that he was always paranoid and a little too involved. After the flood I had enough. The man was cracked. Nearly wiped out mankind for what? Simply because they don't worship him twenty-four hours a day and live up to impossible expectations. Did I mention the guy had an ego? He didn't get that you were only human. So I left."

"I thought he cast you out."

"Man, don't believe all that shit in the bible. They spin truth like a top. And who comes out on top of it all? Jesus. Haven't you noticed how people don't speak about God without mentioning Jesus? Some folks even think Jesus is God. You know how that happened, right?"

"I'm not exactly telling the story here."

"True, true. Oh, but none of that really matters. Jesus, now that's the crux of all this. Well, Jesus actually got kicked out of Heaven. He does get on people's nerves if you haven't noticed. The man freaks me out. Spends too much time with the cherubim."

"Why exactly was he kicked out?" Matthew asked, clearly interested.

"Well, he is a real egotist. Just like his daddy. Always thinks he's right. Well, after seeing how humanity continued to fail in living up to our expectations, even with God's intervention, he became a little...irritating. Always with his ‘I told you so'. One can take only so much complaining so He cast him out.

"Jesus didn't take too well with life on Earth and began trying to find a way back into God's good graces. And what does he do? Becomes the ultimate suck up by preaching and everything, glorifying Heaven as the end all be all pressing that ‘everyone' should be allowed in, including him. But he was never a really good speaker. If you hadn't noticed more people talk about his miracles instead of his actual words. What few words they attribute to him, parables and such, were either jokes he ripped off or speeches his writers wrote for him. The guy's as shallow as a puddle and just muddying. All style, no substance. As you can see, he got on your people's nerves as well."

"So he was never human?"

"Why would you think that?"

"He was Mary's kid. You know. Immaculate conception."

"You humans come up with the dumbest ideas! Have you ever read anything about Jesus' childhood?"

"No."

"Find any archaeological proof of anything even to do with his early life? Even a shred of evidence?"

"No."

"So how could he have been a kid?"

"Well, I-"

"Let me just bring this all to a climax. So you guys crucify Jesus-"

"If he was such a wimp how did he survive all that?"

"Boy, I'm telling you. Good writers. They made it more dramatic than it was. You need to think more. So the bitch Jesus is crucified and passes out after only a few minutes of hanging up there. God is horrified at what he sees. Now he has always had a temper which of course led to his high blood pressure. He had a stroke watching the event turning himself into meals on wheels. He throws a massive fit, determined to destroy Earth for killing his child. The strain of making a cataclysm was too much.

"Now the reason Jesus left so soon after his...ahem...resurrection, was because he was told by his spies that God was incapacitated. They spirit him in and, being the grieving son, he ‘helped' his father. Now God is nothing but a puppet.

"Jesus did a good PR campaign. Look at how great everyone thinks he is. They either think he is God or is a major part of it all. He even renamed the faith after himself and that only through him can you guys get in! The fucker!"

"So why doesn't he do anything on Earth if he is in charge? The bible speaks about God doing all these miracles-"

"Two reasons. First, Jesus wants all the reward without any effort. Ever since God had one shake too many, Jesus simply sits back and lets you guys do his work for him and then takes all the credit. Any wonder Earth is so confused? All these priests, reverends, pastors, etc. Before, God had a plan. At least, I hope he did. Whatever God did, he knew where he wanted it to go up to centuries after the event. A micromanager to the umpteenth degree. Jesus is the artistic type. You know, lazy but good with ideas and imagery. Just look at most churches to get a grasp of that. So he leaves the bureaucracy to humanity while he gives a little every now and then.

"Second, he hates you guys. You people didn't exactly treat him nicely in the end. In fact, you lived up to his opinion of you."

"Jesus has a grudge against humans?"

"Hey, if Jesus wasn't such a megalomaniac you guys would be cosmic dust."

Matthew shook his head, thinking it over. "So you're not really evil then?"

"Boy, I might be morally challenged, but I'm like you. The prick has had this coming for a long time."

"So what do we do?"

The Devil's grin widened. "Do you know what Jesus values most?"

"Well, I thought it was universal love and peace-"

"Seriously! It's power. It's recognition."

"I don't get it."

"The man is a tyrant. People follow him, believe in him simply because of the authority he usurped from its creator, God. The Church holds a large amount of sway because people believe Jesus is this all knowing, unconquerable, invincible person capable of saving and protecting them in the worst of times."

"I don't follow."

"You humans believe in and trust him solely for the reason of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear for your very protection and safety. He is your protector."

"So what?" Matthew asked.

"Have you noticed the trends in safe, advanced industrial nations away from religion?" Satan asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah. So?"

"Do you know why that is?"

"I would assume because, since we have no problems, and we can take care of ourselves, we don't really need religion. It's only a burden."

"That's part of it." The Devil raised his arms to the sky. "In the West you've lost need for faith, for Jesus, because of what it is. It's blind obedience. You've come to see the abuse that comes from not knowing. You strive to know, to learn, to grow. You want to become more than what you already are. The bible, religion itself, is too outdated and limiting to allow you to understand what is out there. Faith wants you to be docile. It wants you to be ignorant so you can be exploited. The West believes in the opposite. It believes in enlightenment, progress, and most importantly, do it yourself. Humanity sees that it can get by without him," Satan jerked a thumb to the sky, "and doesn't need to pay tribute to a lazy despot who has done nothing to earn that honor of respect and authority. What you guys always wanted was to know why. You needed to feel safe. With government, technology, and the products of the modern age you begin to understand, to feel safe, to know you don't need someone to help you because you can help yourselves."

"So what?"

"Don't you see?" The Devil walked over to Matthew and dragged him unwillingly to the precipice. Matthew stared over into the abyss that yawned before him as Satan extended his arm towards the distant lights and vistas that covered the broad world in front of him. "Out there are lives. Thousands of lives. Millions of lives. Lives that Jesus had no part of but wants control of. Valuable allies," Satan hinted.

"Allies?" Matthew asked.

"Humanity can say anything they wish about the world, about themselves, but it is genetic and historical fact. All breeds seek out a leader. Someone to give them solidarity and order. They need something to have faith in. That can be you." Satan patted Matthew on the chest.

"I don't think I like where this is going-"

"Oh, I'm not asking for anything. Not your soul, not your support, not even your obedience."

"So exactly what are you saying?"

"I'm offering you the world. All that, out there. I can make it happen. I know what humanity needs. It needs freedom from those old shackles that were forged by the dying flames in the eyes of my father as the stroke took him away, fashioned by the manipulative hands of Jesus. Your race has grown up. It's time for independence."

Matthew felt horribly tempted by the offer. He looked out at the lights that blazed in the dark, at the lives of a world adrift and lost. The lights of the world faded and illuminated his face as he stood there, staring down at it. "I don't think I'm right for this."

The Devil gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Look at the world, Matthew. I'm sure you've felt its pain, its loneliness. People suffer and die everyday. Why? Why must they suffer? They cry out to Jesus for answers. You can give them the answers they seek. You can guide them far better than he ever did. Away from their shallow lives, their hypocritical words, and their worthless deeds. War, fear, poverty, pain." The Devil gave Matthew a sympathetic glance. "You can end it all. Surely God wouldn't have wanted his creation to have suffered the fate it has under Jesus. For two thousand years humanity has given in to its worst excesses. It needs leadership. It needs you."

Matthew's shoulders slumped, and his posture bent under such an offer. "I can't," he choked.

Satan let go of Matthew, turning his back to this mere mortal, and looked up to the stars. "Up there, Matthew, you have no power. It is unchangeable, unbendable. Your words mean nothing. Your actions mean nothing. You are nothing but a grain in the dust of the cosmos." The Devil turned back to Matthew, his face pleading. "Up there the stars follow a pattern. Up there laws dictate what is and what can never be." His face came within an inch of Matthew's. "But here. Here! This world, this place, this time. Here you, Matthew. Here you and humanity may finally break away. Do as you please. Stop the manipulations and machinations of a system so monstrous, so gigantic, that it fails to see the whole for the sum of its parts. Unlike he on high," Satan spat, shaking his fist at the sky, "You walk among them. You can see their faces, hear their words, feel their pain. You are not distant. You are here. You are needed."

"I am just..." Matthew started to cry. "I am no one. I have always been." Matthew looked down into the depths. "I always will be."

Satan put his weathered hand on Matthew's shoulder, feeling the frail being in his grasp. Matthew's soul was hardly capable of this dreaded gift. "Matthew. Look at me." Matthew continued to look away to nothingness, to an escape from mortality and its unending pains. The Devil removed his shades and said it again. "Look at me." Matthew turned, the skin around his eyes going purple and darkening from the broken nose, and stared into those serpentine voids that yearned to swallow him. "Just because the world has said you are worthless does not mean it is so. Only one person can ever truly know how capable you are and that is you. You know you can. You know you must. Who else will? Who else is as worthy as you? You have seen the worst. You have suffered so much. Just this once, don't you think you are worthy of more than mediocrity?" Matthew looked out as he stood on the edge. His eyes stared into the expanse, and he realized what had to be. He nodded in agreement. "Good," the Devil smiled. "Let it begin with the word."

The Devil pulled a book out of his jacket and handed it to Matthew. The thing was thick. "What is this?" Matthew asked as he took it.

"The beginning of a whole new era."


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You can order Anti-Christ: A Satirical End of Days from Amazon.com.