Part III

Satan: Jesus, I probably should have mentioned this at the beginning, forgive me, I hear you do that well, but this interview is being recorded. I hope you don’t mind?

Jesus: How? Where is your scribe?

Satan smiles so much in this interview.

Satan: Are you ready to answer a few more Questions?

Jesus: Actually Satan, I’ve had enough of your good weed to be forward, forgive me, I can teach you how if you don’t know, but I believe I’m entitled to a few questions of my own.

Satan: That’s not how interviews go, and I think you know it.

Jesus:  It’s how this one will go, and I think you know it.

I am laughing outright now. How long has it been since I did this? He passes me the joint, like I need to loosen up. I take it, I’ll show him a parlour trick. I, Satan, have the longest inhale on record, naturally, I can sleep in fire, I have lungs of asbestos. I take it, you’ll love this, all 6 inches of it, an inch thick, this is a monster of a joint, nice and stiff, and I suck it back until it’s gone. Ash falling off and being whipped away from my person by an appropriate breeze. It takes a minute or two, his eyes grow bigger by the second. When it’s finished I throw the end into the fire and look at him.

Jesus: Give it to me, Satan.

And so I do. It’s a small space, I fill it thick with smoke, a classic, much improved hot box, if you will. I blow it straight at him, he closes his eyes and sighs. How often do you find scenes of this caliber?

Jesus: Why can’t every interview be like this? Ask me anything now.

Something that sounds like a giggle. The son of god is baked.

Jesus: No! it’s my turn, we agreed on that. I have a few. I’m asking for more than myself, as you can imagine. The world will be interested in my exclusive interview with the Devil. I too, have a loyal following to whom I owe a duty, so my first question is about your dick. What do you say to the current rumours that it’s forked? Is it? I’ve never seen another god’s dick, you look pretty normal to me, but you say you’re not in your own body, so how can I tell?

Satan: Well, that’s a good question. Why don’t you tell me what you want it to look like, I’ll make it so and show you. If you’re going to sell this story, definitely pick something interesting. This isn’t my own body, but I can make it do what I want. Go ahead, pick a dick. And this line, really. Top notch.

Jesus is laughing so hard I have to wait for him to stop. For the son of a god he’s a baby with intoxicants. I’m patient, he looks good off camera. I produce a bottle of cold water, he’s happy to drink some. When he settles down, he turns to me and stares hard. I’m okay with this face, I like my eyes at this moment, I pull his in with them and he is suddenly looking at me very differently.

Satan: My equipment is in perfect harmony with the rest of this package. I chose it for its size and bearing, the power inherent in height and breadth, and for the noble mind of the man it belongs to. This is a loan, you might say. I confess to you now that I am much smaller, something more like your size. Where you are sun kissed, I am dead pale, where you are free with your countenance, mine can never be fully seen. My hair is long and black, my hands a shade more elegant than your own, but I’ve lived forever, I’ve handled things which your young hands have never seen. It makes a difference. Don’t ask me about that.

He sits quietly, thinking. His hands are restless now, his face less composed. A sharp breath in.

Jesus: Here’s another question. How can I sit here, less than 6 feet from you, talk with you for hours, smoke myself into somewhere else and still you aren’t evil. Where is it? Where is the brimstone, the extreme danger, the hatred? I’ve heard so much about you and your dark heart, why can’t I feel it? What can you do that’s worse than what’s out there?

You know what the world is like, you’ve been everywhere, tell me, is it like this all the time? Are there Romans who decide everything and others who suffer under them? How can anyone escape them? Pandor, they hate women here, they’re used and abused like animals and it’s all good. What the fuck is wrong with men? What about you, do you hate them? Is this your work? What is it like in Hell, worse?

Satan: Well. I had no idea you were an amateur philosopher, no wonder your father hat- I mean, it’s no wonder you and your father might have issues. Know this about him, he doesn’t encourage free thought. What have you been reading? Never mind. I’m pleased to find you so sharp, rumour had it otherwise.

Jesus: I’m not just a pretty face, Pandor. But I can make and break a nun in the same afternoon. (Another great line, for those who can’t tell.) Nuns are great, I have to be honest. Nothing like them, I’m sure you’ll agree. A different kind of seduction, different kind of surrender.

Satan: Jesus, I hesitate to say this of a- well, son of a God, specifically, but from all indications, you are, in common parlance, a dirty dog.

Jesus (laughing): Oh yes, it comes with the territory. I’m sure you never run short of whatever you want. Part of me wonders what that might be, part of me shudders to think of it. Seriously, is there no way you can show me your real self? It’s only fair, you can see my face easily, this is my regular body. In spirit I’m not much to look at, dove or no. Someone your current size could blow me away with a breath. I only use it for travel, mostly to raise enough dust that I can have the road to myself. I like to be away from people sometimes, the disciples are clingers to a man. Think of it, they want to hold my glass for me, feed me my bread, it’s all I can do not to smite something sometimes.

You can imagine how hard I have to work to get the time I need for my Marys, and I have a Beth or two, a half dozen Sarahs, and a Helen that’s a keeper on all counts. She’s Roman, it’s a handy thing to have in your tent.

Satan: Yes. That pleases me. As The Polyamourist of the Centuries, I approve it in everything, but especially deities. It’s our duty to plant remarkable seeds, you will have left some, my friend, never doubt it. Contraception is a thing of the dark, a fresh sin, with hard consequences in these times. Be a real gentleman and wear something.

Jesus: I prefer not to have anything affect my performance. The ladies expect godlike sex, I give it to them.

Once again we reach the end of your ability to carry a narrative. It’s good for you to wait, I think.

In Part IV I ask him how he feels about boys, and a few other things. Who knows, I might even ask another question about his father. Will I show my true self? Even I can’t say. Scribal weakness is at a peak, she’s awake for less than 8 hours in 24, these days, so you can imagine it’s a little harder to keep her typing. She simply stops. (Still true. Highly inconvenient.)

No song, energy required to post this juicy bit. Rest assured, long loyal reader, that rest ends. Words will hit her the minute she opens her eyes.