Saturday Belongs to the Devil

Short fly on the wall story about the Devil and his advisor

“I’m sorry to say it your Devilness, but you do look tired,” ventured the rather nervous voice coming from Tarlek.  Tarlek hadn’t been an advisor for very long: a relatively short 400 years.  It wasn’t the type of job where you expected security. Job security.  Life security.  It was very difficult to get a life insurance policy when your job title was Chief Advisor (UK Division) to His Devilness Dr Satan Beelzebub (BSc, PhD). 

The usually imposing figure sat at the desk and sighed with his whole body.  It was early Sunday morning and this time of the week seemed to catch the Antichrist in a nostalgic mood, to the detriment of the present.

“You know, it’s like they don’t WANT to be evil anymore,” he despaired.  “They keep WAKING UP.  And God knows it’s impossible to put them back to normal after that.  They just can’t be fixed!  These are light times, Tarlek, we must gather ourselves” he finished gravely.

“But sire!” Tarlek forced his voice into a cheery, devil-may-care tone.  “What about the Fear Mongers �" are they not creating a wave of panic in the country at every opportunity?”

“Yes… YES! But they always seem to go too far.  If I’ve told them once, I’ve told them a thousand times you have to manage the fear.  If it gets out of hand they start ‘turning’ to things and ‘finding’ themselves,” he shuddered slightly at this point.  “I mean, if it was only the religions they turned to, that’d be OK.  I have a few talons in a few pies there.” He smiled wistfully, remembering some of the more evil things which had been performed in the name of religion.  “But they’re even losing faith in those now.  I bet it’s that Gabriel.  He’s ALWAYS meddling, telling people things I’m better off them not knowing.   Don’t even get me started on Michael!”  He leaned back in his chair, catching the light from one of the few candles.  It was never bright in any part of the underground palace but the Doctor did feel that a little light here and there helped to accentuate the darkness.  The small flame lit the cragged face from below, giving it a devilish appearance.  Which was fitting.  The pout, however, was more fitting of a teenage girl - if it weren’t for the long, pointy ears.  And the long, hooked nose.   And the horns.

“I mean, it’s like the sixties all over again!” He pleaded with the desk top.

“Ah, well, you see!  That all fizzled out in a decade and by the 80s…” offered Tarlek, trying to catch his superior’s eye encouragingly.  The Devil’s pout released slightly and enjoyed another moment of nostalgia.

“Ah yes, they were great!  Everyone out for themselves.  There was so much GREED. And you know the best thing?” He hardly waited for an answer from Tarlek, “They were IN LOVE with the greed.”  He leaned forward and gesticulated with his finger, pointing at a space on the green leather desktop, a smile growing on the craggy face which looked like it would smell of tar and despair.  “But they did it again!  They squeezed too hard.  They pushed the pendulum too far in one direction.  People rebelled, started looking for ‘meaning’ to it all.  Life!” His laughter was shudder-inducing and stopped as suddenly as it had started.  The Doctor looked at Tarlek with a ‘now-let’s-get-down-to-business’ kind of expression, “ It’s a fine art, Tarlek: it’s about balance.  I’ve told them in simple terms: Enslavement through manipulation.  Make it their choice.  Not under duress, not because they’re desperate.  Make them nice and comfortable, surround them with nice things, make them want it, need it, strive for it.  Then when they’ve worked hard and feel secure, threaten to take that away. Threaten their families.  Threaten their own validity, their right to live. Instill fear. Hatred of eachother. Jealousy.  THAT’s when they start to play the game properly.  I love it when I feel that panic start to spread.  I find it so ENERGISING!” Satan boomed and beamed.   “But you know what the best times were?”  Tarlek did. It was not the first time in his service that this conversation had passed between them.

“Your Devilness?” He asked with just the right amount of deference and curiosity.

“THE DARK AGES!” Satan was getting into the stride of this rant now.  Tarlek resisted the urge to roll his eye.  “I mean: they even named the Ages after ME!”  Tarlek didn’t want to correct his boss.  The last advisor had done that, against the advice of Tarlek who was then Chief-Advisor-to-the-Chief-Advisor.  It didn’t pan out well.  In fact, the resulting situation did involve a rather large pan but we won’t get into that now.

‘And they lasted for AGES’ Tarlek mouthed along to the next sentence, hiding his face in a ruse of nose scratching.  

“Oh how lost they were, little lambs!” Satan spat, as if he was talking about the most disgusting thing he could think of, “all I had to do was beckon and they’d come stumbling into hate, fear, twisted minds, hardened hearts.  It was so EASY” He clenched his fist to his heart dramatically, feeling simultaneously the triumph and the loss of those heady days. 

“Bad times! Bad times indeed sire!” bowed Tarlek with what he hoped was a respectful smile and made for a swift exit in what he knew was a break in the rant.  As the door closed, a muttering could be detected which swiftly took on a the tone of a three year old who hadn’t had his nap,

“Curse this pendulum…I WANT TO REIGN SUPREME, GODDAMMIT!”  This was (predictably) followed by crashes and the sound of silver goblets being dented on the stone floor, the wood of the desk splintering as it overturned and the tinkling of glass as it flew through the dark stagnant air followed swiftly by the chair His Devilness had been sitting on. 

Tarlek, now well away from the study, finally felt free to roll his eye.  

Author's Note

No idea how to structure dialogue - any pointers would be welcome!!