Satan, whom we left on the top of Mount Niphates, if you remember the middle of the previous sentence, was really, tragically in his head.

  He’s there. I mean, the Garden of Eden is directly, tangibly in front of him, like a mile-and-a-half away and there’s no denying that he’s going to get in there and try to do this thing that he agreed to do. But why did he have to get here so quickly? Yeah, it was a long trip, and yeah, it was hard work and a lot of flapping of big ol’ fallen angel wings to get him to where he was, but would it have been so bad, he wondered, if it had taken, I don’t know, a month longer? Maybe then he would have had time to get really, truly ready to do this thing. He wasn’t scared. That wasn’t it. He’d faced Sin and Death and Chaos without flinching or even losing a little bit of his cool. He didn’t really do the being afraid thing. That was for pussies. Satan was a lot of things, but he was no pussy. It’s just that this was so final. Crossing into Paradise is crossing the Rubicon in a very real way. He can’t really take it back after this. He can’t make a different choice. I mean, the element of surprise would be ruined, so all-out war would be out the window. Just kind of existing and doing his own thing in Hell would be pretty much done for too, because God was sure to tighten the screws if He found Satan in Eden.

  He thought for a second—and this was his big mistake—of what he used to be. He pictured his reflection in the morning mirror, inspecting his perfect, square-jawed face and all the goodness it symbolized. He imagined combing out his shining golden curls again. Strapping on his light-duty angel armor beneath folds of richest, softest purple silk. Aww, man, he had been a good-looking angel.

  He thought about the slutty little angels who cycled through his bedroom, and he imagined one whom he left under the covers so he could get ready for his day. She was an amalgam, of course. He didn’t really remember any of them well enough to say for sure which parts of her belonged to one or another, but that wasn’t really an issue in Heaven. He was a bad guy and all, but not for sharing his bed with anonymous ladies. They had fun too, and everybody did it. It was just part of the deal. Like manna and ambrosia. Manna and ambrosia for every meal, but as he’d tell you, they never got old. Neither did slutty angels.

  Speaking of which, he couldn’t remember eating since he got to Hell. He hadn’t really been there very long, after all, had he? He was a bit hungry now that he thought about it. What does one eat in Hell? Not manna and ambrosia. That’s for sure.

  What did he give it all up for? What was the point? And should he really go through with this? Jesus, he was really suffering, and if he followed this through, he’d probably be made to suffer even worse. This was meant to be revenge, after all, not any kind of actual victory. God would be annoyed by this, but He wouldn’t be weakened. He wouldn’t be any less of a threat. He’d strike back in some kind of definite and final way and Satan would be in even worse shape.

  It felt like Hell. Worse than Hell, really. Had he really left Hell, or was it just an illusion? It didn’t feel like he’d left Hell.

  What Satan didn’t realize was that he and Hell had a very strong connection. In a very real way, Satan was Hell, and Hell was Satan, and the idea of Satan leaving Hell was a nonsense predicated on a very specific misunderstanding, that they were somehow divisible. Turns out wherever Satan went, for all of eternity, the tortures of Hell, its hopelessness and despair, would follow him.

  Satan looked up at the Sun in the sky, thinking about how he was just there, fooling that asshole Uriel with his clever disguise. He looked over at Eden, the end of his journey, and back up at the sun, and he spoke:

  “Sun! Hey you! You shiny motherfucker!

  “I used to be bright like you. You know, you look every bit the god of this new world, hanging up there, giving it your warmth and light. It’s not fair somebody else should get to be the god if you’re doing all the work, right? Step up, bitch! Assert yourself! The stars run and hide when you come out in the morning because you’re such hot shit! Step. The fuck. Up!

  “Yeah, I’m talking to you! I hate your face! I hate your sunbeams! I hate your light and warmth and happy goodwill. Look at me, you circley cunt! Look at me! I used to be so fucking bright, and I hate you for reminding me of it. I used to be your boss, and now what am I? I’m a prideful, ambitious nothing is what I am. Fighting a war I can’t win against an infinite Universal Being. God dammit!

  “Maybe God didn’t deserve all my bullshit. I was shiny and beautiful because He made me that way, and, dammit, He was nice to me. He can see the goddamn future and He was nice to me anyway. It wasn’t hard to serve God. I had to scoop out some ambrosia every once in a while, which smelled really nice, and I had to do my rounds, but there wasn’t really any evil in the universe, so that was easy and low-stress. Occasionally I had to sing a song or two, and frankly, I enjoy singing and I think I have a pretty solid voice, and people would clap for me and shit, so that wasn’t so bad. What exactly was I fucking fighting? Having to thank somebody who did nice things for me? I’m a fucking monster, aren’t I? Holy shit.

  “I was on the next to the top step. You don’t get much more powerful than I was in Heaven. I was hot shit then, too. Maybe if I wasn’t so high up the ladder, it wouldn’t have been an issue. I only wanted the throne because I could see the throne. If I was some peon, I would have been blissfully happy, just like all the peons I used to boss around who obeyed everything I said, blissfully. Of course, then, someone else would have been in my place, feeling dickish and ungrateful, and I would have followed him into battle instead. Then I’d be nothing but a peon in Hell, and that would be just fucking ideal! But what about Michael and Gabriel, and even smug fucking Uriel with his stupid pee name? Why weren’t they tempted? Were they really so much better than me?

  “You’ll just be fucking cursed for all fucking eternity, stupid Satan. No big deal. You chose freely and now you don’t want the shit you chose. Get over yourself! Where can I go? Wherever I go is Hell. I’m Hell. And Hell’s getting deeper and deeper, and new, enhanced versions of the same old horrorshow are opening up everywhere for me.

  “Can I repent? Can I apologize? God’s all about mercy, right? I mean, I just have to ask for it and I can start building trust again and doing recovery work, and 12-stepping it until I kick my assholery and move on, a little Heaven puppet who thinks all the right things. Nah, fuck that! I just stood on a huge stage in a huge fucking Palace of Evildoing swearing to all the angels who followed me into war and who are suffering every day for that that I would help them get revenge. Can I just leave them there while I go into Devilry rehab? Let them rot in Hell so I can repair my relationship with God?

  “If only they knew how I suffered, maybe then they’d understand.

  “But what if I did repent? What then? God forgives me in Their infinite grace and I’m back where I started. It wouldn’t be long before I’m lying in bed, thinking how cool it would be to sit on that golden throne, the tortures of Hell just a distant memory. I’d think I understood how I screwed up last time, but I’d be smarter, and I’d make a new plan that was sure to succeed, and...holy shit I’m such a douchebag. I fucking hate God. I can’t be His friend. I certainly can’t be His subordinate. I’d try. I’d relapse. He knows this, so He’d be about as likely to grant forgiveness as I’d be to ask for it. Un fucking likely. There’s no hope. Instead, there’s me in Hell; there’s these upstart assholes who get a whole new world built for them from scratch; and there’s no goddamn hope for anything better.

  “Sayonara, hope! Aloha, fear! Hasta la vista, remorse! All good to me is lost. Evil, be you my good. At least I have my crown in Hell, and before long I might just be in charge of this dump, too. 2 out of 3 ain’t bad, bitches!

  “Fuck you, the Sun!”

  ***

  Uriel had been fooled, after all, by the young cherub who flattered him so, but staring down at the mountain now, he saw him beating the air with his arms, flailing about in an undignified way, and cursing loudly at the sun, which happened to be precisely where Uriel was standing. And as the whole complex of whiny and victimized emotions coursed through the cherub’s body, they cut deep, even lines into his harried face. His golden mane turned black and his skin reddened with inflammatory anger. The pale ire, envy, and despair, emotions that don’t trouble actual angels, were a dead giveaway. Was Satan trying to draw attention to himself? It was unlikely, but then, it was unlikely the Prince of Lies could be that ridiculously unstealthy. Whether Satan had given himself away on purpose or not, Uriel had a job to do, and he would do it.

  ***

  Satan had a moment of clarity and was suddenly able to see his temper tantrum for what it was. He glanced around him furtively to make sure he wasn’t being watched. The coast was clear. He took some deep breaths. He counted backwards from ten. He did a few kegels for good measure. Once he had taken control of his breathing, he was able to smooth out his disguise and regain his composure. This had been an unfortunate breach of decorum, but he was a pioneer here. No one had ever used saintly disguise to perpetrate evil before, and he was bound to make some mistakes along the way. It’s hard being the ideas guy.

  So on he fares, and to the border comes of Eden.

  If you want to understand how Eden is situated and how it is shaped, imagine a crown sitting on a huge head. Now zoom out a little and imagine that head as a distant hillock, large and majestic, rising out of the fields. Just above its forehead, and all around the back, is a full curly haired rain forest of thick, tangled branches and brambles that you’re not going to get through without a machete or a very sharp set of clippers. Above that are the crown’s spires, insuperably high cedars, pines, firs, and palm trees, set in a perfect circle around the crown itself, the wall of paradise, covered in vines and mosses, like emerald jewels. And then above that, a circling row of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit and blossoms of golden hue with gay enameld colours mixt: on which the sun more glad impress’d his beams then in the fair evening cloud, or humid bow, when God had showrd the Earth. The landscape was really quite lovely, and Satan couldn’t help but get a little teary eyed at the view. For a moment, he felt the healing power of nature, which drives away all sadness, washing over him, but even that couldn’t permanently heal Satan’s overwhelming despair. A gentle wind rose up and carried some of the native perfumes out of the garden to his sensitive nose, and like a sailor rounding the Cape of Good Hope and entering the spicy part of the world, he was overwhelmed by new odors and delights, because that’s totally how that works.

  He’s not really heartless, you know. He was significantly more pleased with the gentle perfumes of the flowers of Paradise than Asmodeus was by the burning fish guts whose smell sent him running scared into the night, and rightly so. Satan felt some pangs of remorse knowing he was on his way to destroy all that beauty, but then, not really. You know how you feel when you see an ice sculpture? It’s beautiful, and it represents so much hard work from a true master of his craft, and it’s sitting on its pedestal being all beautiful and transitory, and you really just want to knock that shit over soooo bad like a kitten in a bottle factory. Well, that’s how Satan felt. The difference being, of course, that you’re kind of a good guy and you’d never really do it, and Satan is the source of all evil in the world and that chilly swan isn’t going to know what hit it.

  Driven only by the need to destroy, Satan made his slow, pensive way up the western side of the steep, savage hill. With his beastly claws he tore his way through the underbrush, one brutal, cutting stroke at a time, pulling out of his way everything he couldn’t step over or go around. It was a long, daunting, soul-killing task, but he finally reached the wall, and on it a sign that read. “Welcome to the Western Wall of Eden. Please join us at the Eastern Gate for entrance. Have a blissful day.”

  Satan raged and pummelled the wall, his fists landing like wrecking balls ridden by naked Miley Cyruses, crooning and weeping with erotic sadness, but the wall, wrapped around Eden like Miley’s embrace of her complex sexuality, wouldn’t budge, like Miley’s defense of the questionable taste of her dancing to “Blurred Lines” at the 2013 MTV Video Music Awards.

  But wait, he thought: I have wings! And he jumped over the bounds of Eden like Robin Thicke over the bounds of decency—with no effort at all. Like a wolf in the sheepcote or a thief at the window, so this first thief climbed in the window of God’s sheepcote in a flurry of mixed metaphor and dastardly intentions.

  In the Garden of Eden, baby, right in the center, is its pride and joy, the Tree of Life, and Satan fluttered to the top of it like an iron butterfly, thence to survey his prey. He used the Tree of Life to plot the death of mankind, which is called irony, and sometimes you just have to spell it out for people, because really it’s one of the great joys of storytelling and it’d be a shame if they missed it. Also, for the record, while we’re talking about ironies, if Satan had just taken a bite from the tree, its magical fruit probably would have cut right through his despair and granted him happiness and true, functional immortality (without all the torture), and he would have been well on the road to recovery. Spoiler alert: He didn’t eat the fruit.

  Stretched out beneath him, he saw the source of all human joy, the Garden of Motherfucking Eden. Wow! It was really, really pleasant. It was blowjobs pleasant, but you know, if you could live in them, with that same feeling of heady, ‘ahhhh’ that you feel knowing there’s a pretty mouth on your junk and getting some tongue action right there at your sensitive little frenulum, but like all the goddamn time.

  Out of the fertile ground, God had caused to grow all the best smelling, best looking trees with the best tasting fruit, and in their middle, as we’ve said, The Tree of Life with its ambrosial fruit of vegetable gold. And next to the Tree of Life, our death, the Tree of Knowledge, knowledge bought dear by knowing ill.

  Southward through Eden flowed a mighty river, and when I say “through” Eden, I mean it for real, because it actually flowed through the hill that Eden sat on top of without changing course at all—if we were to continue with the crowned head metaphor, which probably isn’t a great idea, but we’re going to do it anyway, it flowed in through one ear and out the other—and burst up into the middle of the garden, right next to the Tree of Life, a beautiful fountain to water the thirsty land as it broke into beautiful, bubbling, little rills, which united flowed down the steep glade and met the main river, now appearing from its darksome passage, which in turn divides into four main streams, which flow through many famous realms of the world, but which are beyond the scope of our argument here and therefore need no account, but instead set us free to talk about how the sapphire fountain fed the crisped brooks, their beds of orient pearl cut into sands of gold, ran nectar, lazily and meandering, unto each plant, feeding the worthy flowers of paradise, which are not laid out carefully like crappy gardens in which everything is in its nice little manicured section, but like those cool Italian grottoes where shit just grows where it grows in celebration of God’s bounty, profuse on hill and dale and plain, both where the morning sun warms the ground and where unpierced shade covers the noontime bowers: Yeah, it was like that, happy and rural, with its groves of rich trees that wept thick, balmy syrups, and others whose golden fruit, heavy on the bough, hung down for easy pickins, like real Hesperian fables, with lawns growing in between them and flocks grazing the tender herb, or palmie hillocks spreading flowers into the valleys below: daffodils, violets, and roses without thorns (for nothing in Eden has ill will toward anyone), and in other places, shadowy caves cooled by gentle breezes, in which the mantling vine lays forth her purple grape and gently creeps luxuriant; here and there, murmuring waters turn to waterfalls as they course over steep embankments into lakes, their banks framed with myrtle, which reflects back in their crystal mirrors while birds sing forest songs inspired by the smell of field and grove, harmonizing with the trembling leaves, and Universal Pan dances with the Graces and the Hours and leads on the eternal spring (metaphorically, of course, as this is a Judeo-Christian fable).

  Neither the fair field of Enna where Persephone, goddess of the Spring was violently raped and dragged off into the underworld, or that lovely grove on the river Orontes where Daphne was almost violently raped and then was turned into a tree was as peaceful and secure. But Satan was not in those places, he was in Eden, and there, though surrounded by every conceivable vegetable delight and grammatical excess, he felt no delight. It was the living creatures, of all variety and shape and size that drew his attention. Which could be the humans? Was it the wooly ones, bleating in the grass? The long armed creatures, swinging in the tallest trees and flinging their feces at one another? The tiny ones with the bushy tails running up and down in search of berries and nuts which they hid in their cute, little cheeks? And then they passed beneath him, of far nobler shape than the rest, tall and erect—one of them doubly so—Godlike in their forms, lords of all in their naked majesty, and divine in their looks which shone with the image of their glorious maker. They embodied truth, wisdom, sanctitude. They were both unspeakably beautiful, but not quite equal: He was built for truth, valor, and contemplation, with his noble brow, and she, soft and aerodynamic, for being emotional, attractive, and subservient! He was created truly in the image of God, and she was created to be sexually attractive to him, boobful and receptive and built to carry men children and occasionally women children to amuse them.

  His large forehead and keen eye marked him as the sublime and absolute ruler he was. His manly locks curled clustering, like the petals of a yellow hyacinth from his parted forelock, but not beneath his shoulders because that would be gay. Her soft, welcoming hair, though, hung like a veil down to her slender waist, unadorned and disheveled, in wanton ringlets like the tendrilled vine, a symbol of her sexual subjection to him, which she yielded with coy submission and modest pride, and sweet reluctance, because she knew it turned him on to think she wasn’t really into it and nobody likes a slut, after all.

  Neither made any attempt to shroud in mystery their mysterious parts (dangly and otherwise), for they didn’t suffer the hypocrisy of guilty shame about Nature’s works, nor did they practice the dishonorable honor, sin-bred, of pretending to be pure in the street while being all freaky in the bedroom. Nay, they got freaky in the full light of day, as God intended. Nor did they hide themselves nor act all weird when God or an angel would visit, for they were not ashamed, and Adam could converse and lay pipe simultaneously if the need should take him.

  Everywhere they walked, they walked hand-in-hand, the loveliest pair that ever since in love’s embraces met: Adam, the studliest of studs, and Eve, the babeliest of babes.

  On this day, as Satan watched unseen (by them, at least, for Uriel peeped him something fierce), they sat down in the grass beneath a patch of shade beside a fresh fountain. They were tired from their day’s gardening, for even in Eden folks have to do their 9 to 5 to truly appreciate the respite that follows it. The cool breeze felt good on their warm skin which wasn’t sweaty because that didn’t happen yet and their earned thirst and hunger savored the tangerines that hung on the compliant boughs above them. They chewed the juicy pulp and used the rinds, which they peeled carefully to the purpose, to scoop cool, refreshing water from the spring into their expectant mouths. They spoke softly to each other, and laughed at each other’s jokes, but Eve especially laughed at Adam’s because she was simple minded and laughed easily, and his advanced intellect made for better jokes, and honestly, he was mostly just laughing at her and how she kept getting distracted by his pendulous dong, which, as a healthy young woman, she couldn’t keep her mind, eyes, or hands off of. After they had eaten their fill, the couple alone in all the world and legally married engaged in youthful dalliance, also known as foreplay. About them frisking played all the beasts of th’ Earth. The lion jumped around, and batted playfully at the kid. Bears, tigers, and leopards danced in the evening light. The unwieldy elephant put all his strength into making them happy, and made his trunk into a heart in celebration of their love. Adam giggled and clapped like a small child. Eve didn’t see it because it’s hard for her to open her mouth that wide without closing her eyes, but she was glad Adam was happy. The sly serpent, sunning himself close by, wove his tail into a braid while other creatures couched watching on the grass, and they having grazed lay ruminating, as the sun sank sleepily down to the ocean isles where he makes his fiery bed, and in th’ ascending scale of Heav’n, the stars that usher evening rose.

  Satan was flabbergasted. He had been watching silently from his perch for hours, occasionally stroking himself a little out of rampant sexual frustration. He whispered a bit to himself—not in a crazy way, but in the service of story: “Fuck me! Those two hotties are going to ruin my sex life. How can I go home to the rancid demon pieces that I have at my disposal and actually enjoy myself after seeing what this Adam joker has bouncing on his shit. I don’t like to get competitive,” he lied, “but I have the three following advantages: I used to be an angel, I’m mysterious as fuck, and I have no moral compunction against doing some really freaky shit. Except for a ripped body, zero preconceptions about what relationships should be, sole rule of an earthly paradise, great hair, and a personal friendship with God, what does he have that I don’t have? Nothing, that’s what. Sure, his johnson might be a little longer than mine, but I’m definitely girthier, and let’s face it, all I would have to do is make a pass, and she’d let me sass that ass. I don’t know why I’m even sad. I have this bitch in the bag.

  “But wait,” he braked that trolley, “I’m here for a purpose. This isn’t about the relative size of our dicks, but rather my revenge on God Almighty. If I step in there and start up some love trigonometry, the jig will be up as shit. I need these bastards to be happy and comfortable, and I need them to be the ones to pull the trigger. I talk, they betray God. No coercion, no deep dicking, just their free will and my bad intentions. The cleaner they are when they shit the bed, the shittier the bed will feel. I need God to feel like no move he makes is secure. I need him to know the wolf is at his back. I need him to know that if, even for a second, he’s a little less than infallible, it’s all gonna come tumbling down.

  He already made a mistake. He underestimated me. He put his precious creations in an “impregnable” fortress and left it wide open for me to impregnate. When you’re fighting dudes with wings, you have to have put ceilings on your shit! Rookie mistake.

  And as for you two, man, I could pity you. It won’t matter for long, though. We’re going to be neighbors! I can come live with you in Paradise, or if you prefer, you can come live with me in Hell. I like your place just fine, but you guys are probably a little choosy, growing up with such nice stuff, so you might not like my place as much. Aw, who cares! We’ll throw the doors open. My friends would love to party here, and this place might be a little small for all the babies y’all’ll make going at it like that all the time, but there’s plenty of space in Hell for every one of them. Oh, no, that’s not necessary. Don’t thank me! Thank your precious maker for putting me up to it. He deserves all your fine words of gratitude. After all, He made the place. He made me like this. He made me hungry for power, and new lands, and that fine Earth-girl ass, and He gave me a nice place to live that I can share with my new friends.

  As the leader of a new country, I must enlarge our lands. The law of empire demands it. God put me in charge of a kingdom, and I must do what is right for my subjects. If paradise there be, that paradise must be ours, or I am an unfit king!”

  He cackled like the villain he was, and Adam and Eve were startled. But when they looked up, they only saw a cormorant squawking and, like all the other animals, watching them make love.

  Satan jumped down amongst the beasts of the field, trying on one shape and then another to see what animal best befit his needs. He needed only to get closer and his plan could truly commence. Next he was a lion with noble mane, stalking in a circle around them with fire in his eyes. Then a tyger, behaving as though he had spotted two fawns playing nearby or a pair of twins on singles’ night. First, he hunches down, as if to pounce, but then he stands up and stretches, and moves to a new vantage, as though he needed exactly the right angle to get a paw around each of them.

  Adam, in a post-coital philosophical glow, sat up as though to talk.

  Satan lay down in the grass nearby to get an earful of what he had to say.

  “Eve,” he began, “sole partner in all my joy, I could never love another woman.”

  “Adam darling,” she replied, “there aren’t any other women.”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  She was really proud of herself for understanding where he was coming from.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he continued, “that if you look around you at all this good, it’s pretty easy to see that the KFC who made us is a good one. I mean, don’t you ever wonder if we were created by a bad being to do bad things?”

  She didn’t, but she kept smiling.

  “But it’s clear He isn’t because of all the nice things He gave us. Life, first off, which is pretty nice, and each other, next, which is my favorite part, and then also intercourse, which is loads of fun and which feels nice on my penis, and semen, which you love the taste of so, right sweetie?”

  “I do!” She replied, because she did.

  “Then there’s this ample wood, with all these shady trees and ripe fruits. He’s obviously infinitely good, and what’s more, infinitely generous. We live a life almost completely without limits. I can do anything I want, and you have the freedom to do anything I tell you to do.”

  “Yay!” she agreed.

  “He raised us from the dust, and put us here in all this happiness. And we didn’t do anything for Him; in fact, we can’t do anything He could possibly need. He requires nothing from us but that we follow the two rules: Don’t eat from the Tree of Knowledge, which is a fancy word for Death, and don’t do butt stuff.”

  “Ha! I knew it!” A feminine voice could almost be heard somewhere in the sky.

  It’s interesting that the Tree of Knowledge is so close to the Tree of Life, isn’t it. Like your spliff and your poo-slide. Life and Death side by side. I’m so curious about this Death thing. It must be something really terrible. I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m rambling on. Your little brain must be all filled up with all these big ideas.”

  “All full!” she smilingly agreed. And she was, having climbed back on top of him out of boredom.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s easy to live here. Just two rules to follow, and dominion over all the plants and creatures of Earth, sea, and air. Let us choose freely from our nearly unlimited delights, but never forget to praise God, thank Him for all this nice stuff, and tend the trees and flowers together. It’s not hard work at all, with you by my side.”

  And with this, he kissed her, and she remembered all over again why she loved him so completely. He was smarter, and stronger, and more interesting than she was, and most importantly, he was confidently aware of that truth. He was so handsome and sweet to her. “I was made for you, from you,” she said to him, “and without you I have no purpose. What you said is so smart! We owe Him praise and thanks, and I owe Him even more than that, because he gave me you and you just got silly little me.”

  “Oh, you’re not silly,” retorted Adam. “You have the power to bring me paroxysms of pleasure with your beautiful body; and I’ll never know what it feels like to make someone orgasm.”

  Eve giggled, “Yes, I guess that’s true. There is that!”

  And with that, he spasmed with said joy, and she climbed back onto the grass next to him.

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  She lay her head in his lap. Now it was her turn to say smart things, and that was a little stressful, but she knew Adam would love her no matter what she said. “I often remember the first day I woke up from being created, and found myself lying in a bed of flowers, wondering who and what I was and how I got there and from where.

  “Close by, I heard flowing water coming from a cave. It spread out into a pool, perfectly still and clear, and pure as the sky. I went to it, not knowing what it was and lay down on the green bank to look into the clear water which I thought was a second sky, but this one somehow beneath me. As I leaned over the crystal pool, a shape appeared, looking up at me. I jumped back, startled, and it jumped back, too! But I thought it was nice looking, so I leaned back over, and it must have liked me, too, because it came back as well. It looked up at me with sympathy and love, and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Its eyes were big and bright and as blue as the sky that stretched out around its fine golden curls. Its lips were full and looked so soft, and I felt mine tingle at the thought of touching them together. I was falling terribly, completely in love, and I would still be staring into those lovely eyes, and pining with vain desire for its touch, but a voice warned me: “That’s your reflection. It’s your own lovely self. But come with me and I’ll show you something even better! He waits for you and for your soft embraces; you were made to resemble him, and he shall be inseparably yours, and you will bear him multitudes of children, and you will be called Mother of the Human Race.” This all sounded pretty nifty, so I followed the invisible voice, and it lead me to you, fair indeed and tall, but not nearly as pretty as my reflection. You were less soft, less smooth, less mild looking. So, I turned around to go back, and you were like, ‘Eve, come back, I love you,’ and I kept right on trucking, looking for that sweet piece in the lake, but you said, ‘Hey, I gave up my rib for you—the one closest to my heart,” and I thought, that’s a really odd thing to do. I slowed down for a moment, long enough for you to grab my hand, and that felt nice. And now I see that beauty isn’t as nice as manliness and wisdom, when beauty means making out with a lake.”

  “Yes, my love, and, like a lake, your moistness can be delightful.”

  She laughed. “It certainly can, darling!” Then she had a thought, a new thought. “Would you like to kiss my delightful, moist lake, darling?” The idea was vivid and overwhelmingly attractive, and she thought she could imagine how incredibly tender and beautiful it could feel.

  “No thank you,” he replied, direct and without hesitation. “That sounds gross.”

  And with that, she stared deep into his eyes, surrendering to his charm and manliness. She leaned her naked breast against his, and her long hair flowed down over both of their bodies. His smile was full of love, both for her beauty and her submissive innocence, as Jupiter smiles on Juno when he fills the clouds with God’s spooge droplets to fertilize the world’s sweet fruits and flowers. He pressed her lip with sweet kisses.

  The Devil rolled his eyes with envy and genuine annoyance. “Sweet Jesus. These two have another Eden in one another’s arms, which is a poetically similar situation to what I felt earlier, when I realized Hell was really inside me!” The wild on-the-nose-ness of his situation didn’t keep him busy for long. “It really is pretty nice here with all this healthy relationship and mutual respect; beats the crap out of the constant sexual frustration and unceasing need to pee that characterizes the general state of my genitals since I landed in Hell. What is that? God is such a jerk, man.

  “But what was that cannelloni dick saying about the Tree of Knowledge? God put a tree here that they couldn’t eat from without unleashing death on the world, which is approximately what I’m trying to do! I just have to talk them into eating fruit? These two people who just eat fruit and fuck all day can be defeated by feeding them fruit?

  “God, You dumb fuck, You’re making this a little too easy. I mean, if I set this up, I’d assume it was a trap, but God’s a legitimately good KFC—maybe even the best. Could He have…? Naw, not a chance.

  “And really? Knowledge equals death? Knowledge is forbidden? It’s sinful to know shit? What kind of weirdo commie tyrant are You, God? You make these fancy new creatures who You say You love above all creatures else, and You make them idiots on purpose and tell them they’re in trouble if they try to stop being idiots. This is going to be easier than a crack whore at fix time. I just have to make like a third grade teacher and get them excited about learning! I’ll tell them God is envious and wants to keep them down, which, even though I know better, actually seems kind of obvious given the facts of the situation. And Eve—she’s the weak link here—either she’s an idiot, and therefore she’ll be easy, or she’s not, and he treats her like a child. She’s going to get bored and frustrated even without my help, so I’d better act fast. I’d hate for her to ruin everything by eating the apple on her own.”

  He decided to search the garden and collect more intel. Maybe he’d run into another credulous spirit of Heaven to ask for more gossip. Satan looked back at his prey for a moment and slyly slinked off into the evening sun.

  Meanwhile, in utmost longitude, where Heav’n with Earth and ocean meets, the setting sun slowly descended and with right aspect against the eastern gate of Paradise leveld his eevning rayes. The gate, as it was called, was a tiny metal door with one hundred gigantic bars of iron, each locked carefully into place with separate keys. It stood atop a pillar, hundreds of feet tall, with a narrow winding staircase climbing it. Set into the pillar were retractable spikes, designed to fly out at apparently random intervals throughout the day and knock off or impale anyone who didn’t know the infinitely complex pattern by memory. Throughout the day, marbles would be released and tumble down the stairs to make anyone on them lose their footing and fall to their deaths.

  It’s a good thing Satan hadn’t found his way to the front door. He never would have gotten inside.

  Atop the pillar sat Gabriel, chief of the angelic guards, waiting for the end of his shift. Around him, the unarmed youth of Heaven wrestled, honing their wrestling skills in the Greco-Roman, thumb, and Indian varieties. Within Gabriel’s reach stood the celestial armaments, shields, helms, and spears, all hardened gold inlaid with flaming diamonds.

  In a flash of bright light, Uriel rode in on a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star, and breathless, spoke: “Gabriel, my friend, you’re not supposed to let anyone in, but at noon there was this pimple-faced young angel who came to the sun and he wanted to know where the humans were, so I told him. He was hanging out on the mountain, and he got very strange and started turning red and looking Hellish, and I thought, ‘Gee whiz! I think that might be one of the banished ones, come from Hell.”

  “Oh no! Where is he now?” Gabriel asked. “Thank God we have this fancy gate and we can be sure he’ll never get in. Really, though, thank you, God.”

  “He’s inside already. He jumped over the fence.”

  “He what?”

  “He just jumped over the fence. He has wings, but he really only had to flap them a couple of times. It seemed like it was probably a pretty easy way in.”

  “I...I can’t believe…” Gabriel was taken aback. “I can’t believe there’s a hole in our defenses. I worked so hard on all this. I wonder if he saw the sign?”

  “Don’t worry about it, “said Uriel, “I mean, we’re wholly good; how are we supposed to anticipate the wiles of the author of evil.”

  “How could he! Why? If you want to get in somewhere, you go to the front door! Everyone knows that!”

  “There, there,” said Uriel unhelpfully. “Now pull yourself together. We have to find him!”

  “It’s a good gate,” said Gabriel.

  “It’s a really good gate,” agreed Uriel.

  “And if someone decided to walk around it, rather than going through it, that’s not something I could have anticipated. Right?”

  “Of course not, Gabriel. You did your level best.”

  “And now that he’s in there, it’s my duty and pleasure to find him. He will be in my custody by dawn tomorrow!”

  “Go get him, tiger!”

  Gabriel gave his word of honor, and Uriel slid down his sunbeam back to his setting throne.

  On Earth, evening came on, and turned all the bright colors of day into the somber grays of night. Silence roamed over the land, guiding beasts and birds to their grassie beds and treetop nests. Only the nightingale, herald of the stars, woke and sang her amorous descant. The stars, led by Hesperus, hearing their cue, stepped onto their dark stage and lit it up with their bright starry brightness. At last, the moon, queen of the night, unveiled her naked tiddies and threw her silver mantle over the darkened landscape.

  And Adam, seeing the nighttime had come, felt it his duty to let Eve, his little simpleton, know what was going on. “Eve, darling,” he began.

  “Yes, sweetums.”

  “It’s nighttime.”

  “That explains why it has gotten dark and all the animals have gone to their slumber. Thank you for telling me.”

  “You’re welcome, love. And now, as the animals have gone to their slumber and it’s gotten dark…”

  “I just said that.”

  “I know, darling, I thought you might have forgotten. As the moon’s tiddies are out (like yours) and her silver mantle lyeth on the ground, we should consider going to bed. God has set the day time for labour and the night time for slumber and it is now slumber time as it is night. But first, we must once again celebrate our bodies. Are you aroused?”

  “Deeply, Adam, as ever.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad. Let’s pound one out so we can get up before the dawn and get to work in the garden. Who knows, maybe we’ll make some babies who can help us to perform our pleasant labours.”

  “Maybe we will, darling.”

  “We have so much delightful work to do and so few hours in the day.”

  “It is as you command, my love. What you bid, unargu’d I obey, so God ordains. God is your law, you are mine: to know no more is woman’s happiest knowledge and her praise,” said Eve with a flutter of her eyelashes and a twinkle in her eye.

  “Oh sweetums! You’re so much smarter than I give you credit for.” And he kissed her on the forehead.

  “I do look forward to going to work in the morning! But neither the early breath of morning, the charming songs of the morning birds, the rising sun on this beautiful garden, the sweet smell after the rain, the mild evening, the silent night, long walks by moonlight, nor glittering starlight have any meaning without you by my side. But tell me, wise teacher and protector, if the stars shine for us, why do they shine all night when we sleep?”

  “Oh, my love, how could you know that stars also shine when we’re sleeping?”

  “I...this sounds so silly...I think I can feel them twinkling sometimes in my dreams.”

  “Oh sweet Eve, and if you can feel them twinkling, they must be there.” He had not anticipated her having a reason. Certainly not such a good one! Adam couldn’t possibly know why the stars kept shining at night after they had gone to sleep, but then, he couldn’t let on that there were things he didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly compete with her loveliness, so he had to be the smart one, so she’d keep loving him. He would have to pull something out of his ass. “Well, schnookums, the stars are our guardians, and they have to watch over us at night, keep us safe, and protect us from evil, whatever that is. They are a huge army that marches in file all night long, all around the world, to make sure all the creatures of this place are safe and happy; and like little suns, they warm us at night and make sure we’re cozy and not too cold, but that we aren’t overwarm so we can still snuggle. Also, the world is full of invisible angels who never sleep, but worship God’s wonder all the livelong night, and sing songs of goodness to the twinkling stars.”

  She smiled sweetly, perfectly satisfied with his knowledgeable answer, and who wouldn’t be? It was a good one. Hand-in-hand, they walked together through the relative moon-tiddiesy darkness to their blissful bower, built especially for them by the Holy Spirit Themself. The roof was made from woven laurel and myrtle. The walls were formed of fragrant Acanthus, which like corinthian columns fenced up their forest cove; Climbing flowers, iris, roses, and jessamine painted them like a mosaic and they bloomed between the pillars. Underfoot, violets, crocus, and hyacinth made them a soft carpet embroidered with rich inlay more colorful than the gemstoned floors of the finest palaces. No other creatures dared enter their bower, because they lived in such awe of these perfect humans. No nymph or faun or other imaginary creatures shared their beds because they’re imaginary, and that’s not how imagination works.

  It was here that Adam and Eve had first met in nuptial embrace while angels sang hosannas and gave them little spankies to help maintain the mood. She, the first Pandora, bedecked in nothing but her own rare beauty came to Adam there, looking, feeling, tasting not at all like the destruction of mankind she would turn out to be. And Adam, another Epimethius, thought not about the consequences he would bring by popping open her lovely box.

  When they reached said bower, Adam and Eve turned to adore the God who made for them the sky, the air, the Earth, and Heaven; the moon’s resplendent globe and the starrie pole, and Adam’s resplendent globes and fleshy pole. In unison, they intoned their evening prayer:

  You made the night

  You made the day

  And all we have to do is pray

  And you’ll be nice to us

  And feed us

  Though you cannot really need us.

  Our days are calm,

  It’s just our luck,

  That we can garden, yea, and fuck

  ‘Til he fills her

  With baby paste;

  (She likes the feeling and the taste)

  And we’ll bring forth

  The human race

  To fill up all this extra space.

  Their ceremony was simple, which God preferred, and they meant it with their whole simple hearts. They were sleepy and horny, so they took once more each the other’s hand and went inside. They didn’t have to bother with taking off their clothes, like we do, because they were completely innocent, which we are not, and therefore legitimately naked, in the same way that we have to wear clothes to be legitimate, and they lay down face to lovely face and he put his tab A into her slot B and they moved back and forth until he, in a spasm of joy and obedience to God, spilled his seed into her, and she, only vaguely, distantly unsatisfied, drifted off into the deepest of slumbers before he even had time to pull it out, so he left it there a little longer than was totally necessary, just because. In a moment, it had softened and slid out on its own and the cool air hit the moistness and made it immediately hard again, so he stuck it in for a round two because she was sleeping soundly and she was totally, completely his.

  Some hypocrites talk about purity and innocence, but when our Maker bids increase, who would encourage abstinence but the true enemy of God and humanity?

  Lets just take a moment to talk about how great sex is, huh? That shit is good, and there are a bunch of fun ways to do it, and you can even do it all by yourself if you want.

  Fuck one another, boys and girls!

  Be naked; love everyone; and the world will once again be the paradise it was meant to be. Well maybe not, but it will certainly suck a little less. Also, remember that you’ve heard God say personally that He doesn’t have anything against butt stuff and only forbade it out of convenience, so if you’re into it, go right ahead!

  While I’m trumpeting the joys of sex, it’s important to go into the difference between rational, purposeful lovemaking and simply giving in to lust. Sex isn’t all sunshine and rainbows all the time, like the last paragraph might have suggested. Sometimes we don’t feel well or the people who want to have sex with us are not the people we want to have sex with and are having some trouble hearing that. The path to sexual bliss is pretty straightforward, though. Think about it actively—a lot. Read stuff about sex and the different ways it’s done. Watch sexy movies (preferably made by companies with a reputation for treating their talent appropriately). Take some time to prepare safety measures and appropriate birth control so you can keep your head in the game and enjoy yourself. If you have some psychosexual stuff going on, see a therapist and follow through with their recommendations so you can work that shit out. It’ll be hard work and a bit uncomfortable, but you owe it to yourself and the people who love you to find your best self in there. Finally, make sure you feel okay saying ‘no’ when you mean it, and get used to putting failsafes in place if you’re going to be drinking heavily, because sex can be traumatic if it’s not something you really want. And once you get your ducks in a row, you’ll find that it’s actually easier and more satisfying to say ‘yes’ when you want to, and then sex—rational, thoughful sex—will likely become one of the true joys in your life and make the world a better place.

  And so, our foreparents slept, rubbing together their foreparts, comforted in love’s embrace, and on their naked limbs the flowery roof showered roses, which the morning grew afresh. Sleep on, blessed pair, happy; and happier yet if you seek no happier state and know to know no more!

  The night was a quarter gone, and the Cherubim poured forth from their ivory gate in warlike parade to begin their watch, when Gabriel, seeing his second in command coming to relieve him, spoke thus: “Uzziel! We have a problem. I want you to take half of these men and coast southward. Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. I’ll take some to the west, and some of them can wheel to the north. We’ll all meet up by the western wall.”

  Uzziel’s forces split off like a dragon’s flame curving around a brave knight’s shield.

  Gabriel called two strong and subtle spirits to the fore. “Ithuriel and Zephon! Search through the garden under every stone, beneath every vine, in every nook and cranny of every nooked and crannied tree and stump, but search most carefully in and around the lodge of those two sleeping creatures of beauty, grace, and nobility.”

  “But won’t we see them naked and embracing?” asked Zephon, innocently.

  “Of course you will! But worry not. Yes, they’re beautiful, but it’s perfectly normal to see and admire the naked beauty of people who are attractive to you. You might even get a little angel boner, which is okay, too. Excitement is not intent to act, and it should not be treated as such. And hopefully, as these people fill the world with their offspring they will understand that truth and keep it sacred, that looking at someone’s body with admiration is not an attack, but a compliment. Of course, on the other side of that coin is the understanding that before our excitement becomes intent to act, we must seek consent in a genuine way, knowing that our request might be rebuffed, and willing to cease pursuit of action in that case. Not in this case, though. Do not fuck the humans!

  “And now, we must take action in a different way, and fall out! Some infernal spirit has ‘scaped the bars of Hell, and I’d wager he’s not just on a nice vacation. If you find him, grab him, and bring him here!”

  “Fall out!” He shouted, and his radiant files of angels poured out into the night, brighter than the moon, prepared to spend their entire night searching the garden, tearing it apart, lifting stones and spelunking, spelunking and lifting stones. That’s not how it happened, though. Ithuriel and Zephon, armed with permission to look longingly at the naked humans, went directly to their love nest, where they found Satan after about 35 seconds of searching. He, disguised as a toad, sat whispering in Eve’s sleeping ear, using his tricksy powers to reach her subconscious mind, the organ of fantasy and dreams. If this went down like Satan hoped, he would raise up her animal spirits, get her sexy juices flowing, plant suspicion, discontent and ambition, dislodge her submissiveness, and finally, make her impatient with Adam and God, and therefore easy to control.

  Ithuriel touched the Satan-toad lightly with his spear, and like the erection of a virginal compulsive masturbator when it touches its first vagina and explodes readily and immediately, Satan’s disguise shot off, and he jumped up surprised, embarrassed, and apologizing, like said virgin. Ithuriel and Zephon stepped back with a gasp, both surprised that this was so disturbingly easy and a little disappointed that they hadn’t had more time to “search” first. Satan was griesly and unfortunate, but they weren’t afraid, and they stepped forward and seized him by the arms.

  Zephon spoke first. “You’re one of those Hell spirits, aren’t you? Which one are you? Who dares disturb the sleep of these powerless innocents?”

  “Who dares disturb the sleep of powerless innocents?” Satan repeated, “Who wouldn’t? It’s not exactly a daring thing to do. First of all, they’re powerless innocents. It’s not like they’re going to hurt me or anything. Second, I’m not sawing their legs off or anything like that, I’m just whispering at them when they sleep. We’re not in the upper echelons of daring, here.

  “Also, what do you mean, ‘Which one are you?’ I’m not exactly unpopular, you know. I was very recently the coolest of the cool kids in Heaven. I sat where you dared not soar—at the cool kids’ table. If you don’t know me, you must have been a complete nobody. They must be really scraping the bottom of the barrel for promotions these days.

  “You know, actually, no. I refuse to admit of the possibility that you don’t know who I am. Maybe you’re just socially awkward and you’re not really sure how to communicate, so you’re throwing out things you read in books to cover up the fact that you're an imbecile. It didn’t work, you know. I know the truth. Who shouts, ‘Who goes there?’ these days?”

  But Zephon wasn’t dismayed. “I don’t know when the last time was that you looked in a mirror, but I’m guessing you’ve changed since last you were in Heaven. Yes, I might have known you before you went Turbo, but back then I’m guessing you had good posture, and you were handsome, and your skin was a little less like beef jerky. Frankly, you look like Hell, whoever you are. But really, I don’t care who you are. I was just being polite. You can tell it to Gabriel.”

  The cherub’s youth and beauty and spectacular acne made his rebuke even harder hitting, and Satan was abashed. He was suddenly self-conscious. Was his skin really like beef jerky? Outwardly, he kept his cool.

  “Gabriel! Yes! Take me to Gabriel! I’ll go peacefully, I promise. He’ll be a lot more fun to kick the shit out of than some lackey (by which I mean you, sweetheart). I’ll take on all of you pussies at once if you like, but I need at least someone as tough as Gabriel before I will throw down.”

  Zephon tried to smile, though he was a little nonplussed. Ithuriel spoke up. ”That kind of language is not necessary. I know you’re just stalling because you’re scared, but I’ll let you stall. Come with us.”

  On the inside, Satan was a high-speed blender of emotions and rage, but he walked on, like a proud steed champing his iron bit. It didn’t matter at this point if he fought or fled; it was likely the boy was right. He’d have to use his sharp, surgical cunning to get out of this. That was one area where their scalpels were blunted. Smiling a shiteating smile, Satan sang a song off-key while they walked. Its lyrics were something like this:

  Fuckity fuck fuck

  Is a thing I don’t give

  Suckity suck suck

  My dick, you little bitch.

  As part of their training, Angels were classically-trained poets and musicians, and Satan knew the slant rhyme and bad meter were as offensive to these two jokers as the language.

  They drew near the westernmost point of the garden, where the other squadrons of angels were waiting impatiently for them.

  “They must have searched really thoroughly,” Ithuriel whispered to Zephon as they approached. Sarcasm isn’t natural to angels, but a little time with the Devil can erode your values pretty quickly.

  Gabriel saw them coming from a distance, thanks to his powerful angelvision. “Ho ho! I hear the tread of nimble feet hasting this way, and now by glimpse discerne Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade! And with them, a poor poet and musician, whose regal bearing, bad complexion, and fierce demeanor mark him out as the Prince of Hell! Stand firm, boys, he’s using bawdy language.

  The angels steeled their resolve and took defensive postures.

  Ithuriel and Zephon told the story of how they found and captured Satan, and how insensitive to their sensibilities he had been thus far.

  Gabriel wandered a slow semicircle around his foe, looking him up and down. “Encourager of bad behavior, instigator of sin and vagrancy, and rabble-rouser, why have you broken the boundaries prescribed to you by your punishment? Why have you disturbed our easy watch with your ill intentions? Why have you attacked the innocents we have been charged to protect, violating the bliss of humans, whom God has put here specifically to live blissfully? Is your punishment not harsh enough already?

  Satan smiled broadly. “Gabriel, you titty-fed idiot. When we were in Heaven together, we were buddies, compatriots, teammates, and I thought you were so smart. In fact, the other angels were all walking around saying things like, ‘Wow, Gabriel’s so smart. I wish I could be smart like Gabriel!’ And really, I mean, you sure as Hell had me fooled, but now I look at you, and I just…no matter how I try, I can’t see anything but a titty-fed idiot. Your face is stupid. Your whole demeanor is stupid. And worst of all, you ask stupid questions. Why did I leave Hell? Is that what you want to know? First of all, I’m a rebel. That means I have a lot of trouble doing what I’m told. Second, It sucks there. It’s really uncomfortable. It wasn’t just a whim, like, ‘Hmm, I think I’ll take a walk outside the gates of Hell for a change,’ it was a priority. I did some planning and then I left, and then I purposefully went someplace pleasant. ‘You know what sounds nicer than Hell,’ I thought to myself, “Paradise!’ So I came to Paradise. If you were stuck in Hell, you would have done the same. No, actually, you probably wouldn’t have, because you, my friend, are a titty-fed idiot. You will do anything you’re told, no matter how uncomfortable and stupid, as long as it keeps you fed and on the titty. If God wants me to stay in Hell, He needs to find a way to bar the gate a little more reliably. I’m not going to stay there just because He tells me to.

  “Your lap dog’s story is true. I found a pillow next to a pretty girl, so I sat on it. It was comfy and nice. I was wearing my toad suit because it was a bit balmy out, and the slime keeps me cool. I didn’t mean anybody harm. I was just trying to take care of my own needs and enjoy a lovely night. Is that a crime?”

  “Heaven misses your wisdom,” Gabriel replied. “You truly were a capable angel, but something went amiss, and you made a string of poor decisions. Your folly, not your wisdom, led to your overthrow. Your folly, not your wisdom, boldly broke you out of your prison. You think it’s wise to flee from pain—thus far you’re right—but the seven-fold wrath your flight will be sure to inspire to whip you screaming back to your dungeon might remind you that no pain can equal the scourge of infinite anger which our God wields. Is it wise to subject yourself to God’s rage again? And if, in your wisdom, you seek comfort from your pain, why are you alone? Where are your compatriots? Is it less painful for them, or are they just tougher than you and able to take the heat? Their courageous chief led them into an ill-considered battle, and now he’s the first to flee the punishment. Intriguing. You must have given them a different reason for your coming. What did you tell them?”

  Gabriel really was weirdly perceptive. Satan frowned. “Let’s talk about dicks. Gathered angels, look over here. Have you ever seen such a shiny dick as your leader? He’s big, he’s all puffed up, he holds himself proudly erect, he’s as ready as he’ll ever be to fuck everything up for all of you. Yes, Gabriel you dick, I did, in fact, come by myself from Hell, and if you ever experienced a shred of hardship in your cushiony, white-bread life, you might understand how leadership works.

  “First of all, I want to remind you of that day on the battlefield. My men and I were standing there staring down your men and you. You were shaking in your boots until God’s thunder showed up to back you up. Then you got real brave, didn’t you. Once you had inevitability on your side, it wasn’t hard to pretend He needed you to defend Him. I was the fiercest motherfucker you ever saw. Let’s face it, I was the only motherfucker you ever saw. You battle virgins had never had anybody to fight before me, and you wouldn’t have stood a chance if the Big Dick hadn’t stepped in to help you change your soiled shorts.

  “Now we can talk about leadership. It’s fucking dangerous out there, you idiot. I left Hell alone because I’m blazing a goddamned…” The angels gasped at his blasphemy. “...trail for my people. It’s not just a brisk jaunt from Hell to Paradise. I had to traverse the abyss of Chaos before I could find out if this rumored place even existed. Also, I’m not sure how report of this new world got into Hell, but you might want to check your info channels, ya dupe. Now that I have confirmed it’s here and that it’s pretty fucking nice, I’ll be heading back to get my army of demons, and we’ll move in. We’ll set up a nice little town here, and I’ll even make that sweet, vapid piece of ass, Eve, my queen. And I tell you what, you and your snappily dressed legions of gay angels can try to stop us by singing hymns or quoting Tony Kushner at us, and we’ll see how quickly you run away from a little pain inflicted by a band of fallen angels and their faithful leader.”

  Gabriel, who loved Angels in America and couldn’t stand to hear Tony Kushner name-dropped by evil, was losing his cool. Satan had struck a chord. “You say things and you unsay them. First, you were running from pain. Then you were a spy. You’re nothing but a shameless liar! You call yourself a faithful leader! Faithful to whom? To your band of faithless outcasts? You taught them to be rebels. Do you expect them to be faithful to you? You paint yourself as a patron of liberty, but really, you’re the next lamb to their slaughter. Just wait. They bow and scrape to you now just like you did to God, but they’re as hypocritical as you are, and you’re no God to cast them down if they displease you. I’m going to give you some advice: Get out of Eden. Go back to Hell where you’re safe from my rage, and know that if you come back here again, I will personally chain you up, drag you back to the lake of fire, and seal you there. You will not pass Hell’s gates twice.”

  Satan was really pissed off, now. Not least because he knew Gabriel was right. There were few worse kings to be than king of mutineers. He raged and fire flew from his eyes. “Talk of chains when I am your prisoner. Until then, little border guard, live in terror of my coming wrath. You and your minions are used to servitude, but you haven’t known oppression until you feel it from me. You’ll be begging to pull God’s chariot across Heaven like the team of asses you are.”

  The angels turned fiery red, touched by the anger of Hell that Satan had brought with him. They drew in their phalanx around him with spears at the ready, like the pincers of a giant crab creature in a Saturday morning cartoon, poised to strike at the heroes, but interrupted by a commercial break, and in the exact same position a minute-and-a-half later when the commercials, or this simile, are over.

  Satan stood apparently undismayed but actually a little dismayed. Nonetheless, he stood tall and puffed out his chest, a mountain of raw power and unflinching horror. In his hand appeared a spear and a shield, material manifestations of his Satanic rage. The two sides stood poised to strike, and the battle that ensued would have torn Eden asunder and might even have torn down the firmament above it, had not the Eternal given the signal to prevent it. He hung in the heavens his mighty scales, sketched in stars, and put in the trays the two futures, that which results from fighting Satan and that which results from letting him go. Gabriel watched as the fight flew upward, showing its emptiness, and the release sunk downward, the true path. Gabriel nodded, knowing what he must do.

  “Satan,” he said, “I know your strength, and you know mine, and you know what power we have was given us by the grace of God. What folly is it to boast of our prowess at arms, when neither of us can do anything except what Heaven allows. Look up! Read the sign in the sky, and see how you will fare.”

  Satan, blinded by rage, ambition, and fear, saw what he needed to see. On one side of the scale, held down by weighty deeds, stood his foe, and on the other, himself, light and ineffective in the face of God’s wrath. The sign was clear, and murmuring, he fled the garden and his captors.

  With him went the night, and the first rays of sun were greeted by the soft chirping of the happy birds of Eden.