IT happened on a Tuesday. I remember it well.

"ENOUGH - I'm done! I'm done, finished, and gone!

And today - THIS day - I'm taking in my shingle and retiring!"

Thus spoke SATAN, the dark, dread Lord of Hell, Regent of the Nether Regions. The Woeful Master.

There was no mistaking his sincerity. The message was given by HIMSELF, with a most impressive Forward announced by a veritable cohort of Fallen Angels (the UN - fallen ones being conspicuously absent). But - it was of little matter. SATAN's minions looked exactly like the Blessed Originals - only with more of a tan.

They - the aforementioned Fallen elite - arrived at midnight. (GMT) - (Greenwich Mean Time for those of us unaccustomed with abbreviations.) Their PRESENCE illuminated the sky - a most impressive sight in those areas blessed with daylight - and doubly effective where night ruled the earth.

THE MESSAGE was given - thundering forth the momentous news that SATAN himself would appear before all - every living man, woman and child - in all four corners of the earth.

Simultaneously - in living color - speaking in all tongues and, for the hearing impaired, utilizing closed captioned technology. Drunks and addicts were to be made miraculously sober for the event, those asleep would be rudely awakened, and even the incarcerated would not be deprived of the news.

And, after a sizable show - SATAN appeared. (After all, such an entity as the Guest of Honor deserves at least as much fanfare as, lets say, a Johnny Carson or Jay Leno.)

SATAN. HIMSELF! In the flesh - or something that looked identical to it. A rather dashing figure. Muscular, bronzed (a fact readily accounted for) and with just a tint of Devilment in HIS eyes. But - of course - that was to be expected, given our subject.

However, in HIS shining visage there was a troubled tiredness. HIS countenance fairly exuded what could be described as nothing less than a dynamic boredom.

HIS text ran as follows. (This is transcribed from an original release - "hot off the presses" - given to me by one of the thundering advance demons. I would give you the name - but she preferred anonymity.)

"MANKIND!" SATAN'S voice radiated impressive strength - sort of like the roar of a passing freight train played backwards and in slow motion.

"Hello. As you have probably by now surmised - I AM SATAN.

No - please - hold the cheers and the applause. I'm really not up for much in the way of merriment right now.

I am appearing to you in this manner so that you - ALL of you - will get the message firsthand - without the necessity of after the fact analyses and commentary.

Briefly, I’m tired. Plain and simple.

For the better part of eternity, and throughout all of YOUR existence, I was expected, and in fact did, rule in Hell. That is - or rather was, no easy task. Of that I assure you! A more thankless and tedious assignment I cannot imagine. And, to give myself a pat on the back, I did a damned good job of it. You just try to torment helpless souls without rest, relaxation or even a day off. After a while even the damned get inured to pain and suffering. It's tough formulating ever increasing agonies.

It got so that the old flames and pitchfork routine couldn't coax a sigh, much less a scream or even a decent moan. And, to tell the truth, (not necessarily one of my strongest points), after a while I was glad. All that yelling was getting on my nerves. Whoever said that the howl of a damned soul is music to my ears deserved to end up as my guest.

Not only did I have to roast the dead and damned, but, every century I had to come up with a revised Thousand Year Plan for the Living. New tortures, new sins, new temptations. Fresh ways of helping mankind decimate his race and destroy his fellows. More woe, more misery, more heartaches, more needless and senseless deaths.

ALWAYS more. Hell, it really gets to you. How much can a spirit take? Even I have a limit.

And, this limit has been reached. So...

Henceforth and from now on - Hell is closed and I am out of the Flames, Fire and Brimstone Business. I've given my fellow demons final notice, and told them to take it easy from now on. I have locked the front gate and opened the back door. Any one now in Hell can go, stay, or do just whatever he, she or it pleases.

It's a large Universe -they won't be bored. And, for the most part, they have suffered enough. Those that haven't - well - YOU KNOW WHO can think of something. I can't be bothered. If HE'S so up on sending people down the black river, then let HIM do the dirty work. It's only fair.

Who knows, maybe HE'LL enjoy the challenge. After all, it was HIS idea in the first place - Hell, damnation, and all that. But, that's a different story. If you want to know about it - ask HIM.

I can't be bothered.

I plan to take a long vacation - I haven't had one in literally ages. Just ask my wife. That's another thing - she deserves better. All the sulfur and brimstone makes her break out - and it plays havoc with the wash as well.

OK, Mankind, enjoy yourselves. From now on, if there is any misery to be had, you can either blame yourselves or YOU KNOW WHO. It ain't my affair any more. All of you Evangelists and Bible Thumping Preachers - sorry - but I'm afraid you will have to find a new line of work. People just won't have to cough up their hard earned bucks anymore to help you combat ME in the eternal struggle.

I just gave up the fight.

At that point, SATAN vanished. Certain people by the name of Pat, Ben and Denuta fainted. However, all was not lost. They soon discovered that their talents lent themselves to other, equally lucrative ventures. Such as, touting consumer goods. Pat is now Mr. Cleans sidekick. God knows, he had the smile for it. After his Presidential Bid failed, he wanted something that offered more security. Ben was a shoo-in for selling that famous brand rice - and besides, he was already converted. And Denuta - I think she and Cathy What's-Her-Name the gymnast did fantastic hawking sanitary items. They were all so pure. And white.

Jim and Tammy - well unfortunately for them the announcement didn't help their standing in the public eye any. Satan considered putting in a bad word or two for them, but then he figured anything he could say would only improve matters.

However, he did call on another Jim's agent regarding some sort of contract deal. It was reported that His Majesty was very impressed with a particularly good crying performance a little while back. (Jim's, not the agent's).

"Perhaps if YOU KNOW WHO can't use him, I can find him a cozy place to work. I like his style." So HE is reported to have said. However the news came from a (now) former inmate of HIS MAJESTY, and who would believe good ole' Huey anyhow?

As for me, well, there isn't much sinning going on any more. I'll just have to get a bottle of Jack Black, sit back, and Praise The Lord!

John J. Graziano

Revised October 15, 1989

If you are offended by this story, then I suggest you buy a tear cup and use it to your hearts content. It’s called SATIRE – and it’s one of the few things still protected by the First Amendment.