The Good, the Bad, and the Dinner

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE DINNER

God and Satan sat at the dining table, facing each other.

“Satan, good to see you. I’m glad you were able to make this year’s meeting.”

“Thanks, God. Glad I could come. As you know, I’ve been super busy, what with COVID, and climate change, and well, the GOP. That’s a lot of pokers to keep in the fire, literally and figuratively.” Satan gave a little snort.

“Nonetheless, Satan, I’m glad we’re here.” God paused. “I’ve been fairly busy myself. What with the vaccine, and the fact that front-line workers are finally getting the recognition that they deserve. Plus, I’ve been working on the Internet. There are so many more kitten videos.” God smiled. “I love kitten videos. They make people happy.”

Before Satan could reply, a waiter approached the table. He was mid-thirties, about five foot ten, medium build, wearing khakis and a short sleeve plaid shirt. His hair was neat, and he was clean-shaven. He was an attractive man, but his face was sorrowful.

“What can I get you gentlemen?” he said, looking at God and Satan.

“I’ll have a Satan’s Whiskers, on the rocks,” said Satan.

“Very good sir.” The waiter turned to God. “And you, Sir?”

“I’ll have a glass of oat milk, and a glass of water, please.”

“Very good sir.” The waiter hurried off.

“Hey God, I gotta ask. Ever since we’ve been meeting for dinner, you always order a glass of water, but never drink it. Why?”

“Well, to be honest, Satan, I like to have it around in case you spontaneously combust, and set something on fire. You know, better safe than sorry.”

Satan nodded his head. “Prudent. But always with the milk, God. Why no booze?”

“I don’t need alcohol,” replied God. “Unlike some, I enjoy an unaltered existence.”

Satan glared at God. “Getting a bit sanctimonious, aren’t you?”

“No,” replied God. “Just honest.”

Satan harrumphed.

The waiter returned with their drinks. Satan grabbed his drink and gulped it down, slammed the empty glass on the table, and declared, “Fantastic! Get me two more! Right now!”

The waiter scurried off.

God just looked at Satan. “You don’t have to scare the staff, you know. You could just ask politely for another drink. Or two.”

Satan laughed out loud.

“Why would I do that? I’m Satan! The Devil! Lucifer! Belzeboub! Why should I care for the feelings of a lowly server?”

God looked at him calmly. “Because if you keep frightening off all of the staff, there won’t be anyone left to serve us. We’ll end up sitting across from each other, talking. I rather enjoy our meetings when we have the distraction of a meal.”

At that moment, God spotted the waiter hovering in the background. He motioned him over. The waiter placed the two new drinks in front of Satan without looking at him.

“Thank you,” said God. “We’d like to order now.”

The waiter took his order pad out, and with trembling hands grasping his pencil, looked to God.

“To start, I’ll have a bowl of Holy Ghost soup, served with manna. And for the main I’ll have angel-hair pasta with white sauce.”

“Very good sir.” He turned to Satan, still avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll have the Hell-Fire Chili, with a couple devilled eggs for my appetizer. Followed by an order of Chicken alla diavola, and an order of shrimp fra diablo. Have the chef make it all really, really spicy — spicy as hell.” Satan laughed.

“Of course sir.” The waiter turned on his heel, and quickly retreated.

“Huh,” said Satan, watching the waiter retreat. “I thought he would quit. He’s stronger than I thought. I’ll have to keep my eye on that one.”

“Or,” said God, “maybe he has faith.”

“Not likely. He works in a restaurant in purgatory.”

“Humans can redeem themselves.”

“Really? Have a look around you, God,” said Satan, sweeping his hand to encompass the room they were in. “These people were not good enough to get into heaven. What makes you think they won’t just say ‘to hell with it’ (haha) and settle for the fire and brimstone of hell? They feel that they weren’t good enough for heaven, so hell is their only option. And then they will be mine.” Satan smiled, showing his prominent canine teeth, and pointy incisors. Actually it was more a leer than a smile, but God understood what he was going for.

“Satan, many of these people have lost their faith, and just need to reclaim their beliefs. I believe that they can be redeemed, and enter heaven, because that is where they truly want to be.”

The waiter arrived with their appetizers, placing them before each entity.

“Excuse me,” said God. “What is your name?”

“Henry, Sir.”

“Henry, why are you here, in purgatory? 

Henry hung his head. “I was unfaithful to my wife, Sir. She caught me me with my lover, inflagrante delicto.”

“See!” said Satan. “Once a cheater, always a cheater!”

“Not so, Satan. Not so.” He turned to Henry. “Henry, what was worse, cheating on your wife or getting caught?”

Henry thought a minute. He knew he had to tell the truth. “Well, God, at the time, I thought that I deserved a little spice in my life. But the look on my wife’s face … That was worse than any punishment I could imagine.”

“Imagine harder, Henry,” said Satan chuckling.

Henry ignored Satan, looking directly at God. “I hurt her so much. I wish that I had never cheated.” He looked devastated.

“How did you die, Henry,” asked God.

“My wife shot me.”

“Ha!” said Satan, lightly slapping the table. “Henry do you wish you never cheated because your wife shot you, or because you hurt your wife?” He turned to God and said quietly, “I bet it’s gonna be because he got shot.”

God ignored him, focussing on Henry.

“Both,” said Henry, as he turned and walked away.

“A draw,” said Satan, slightly disappointed.

“But still redeemable.”

They ate their appetizers.

“Remember the last meeting we had here?” said Satan.

“Yes, I do. I believe that you bet me that you would have more souls than I would by the time we met again.”

“What was the final score?”

God smiled. “Out of the one thousand and one souls populating purgatory at that moment, heaven welcomed nine hundred and eight. Unfortunately, we lost ninety-three to hell.” God cocked his head to one side. “How are they? My ninety-three lost souls?”

“They suck,” said Satan again showing his teeth. “I’m so proud.”

A bus-person approached the table and started collecting their empty dishes. His walk was less walk, more swagger. He was in his late teens-early twenties, with close cropped dark hair, and a scraggly beard. He was wearing jeans that hung low on his frame and an oversized tee-shirt, a red bandana tied around his head.

“Hey, kid,” said Satan. “What’s your name?”

“Ray.”

“Whatcha in for, Ray?”

He looked Satan in the eye. “Drive-bys. Shot ten, killed six. One of their guys capped me.”

Satan smiled. “See you soon.” 

“Right,” Ray said, a slight smile on his lips, as he carried their dirty dishes away.

Satan looked at God. “Admit it, there’s a lot of evil in the world.”

“I don’t believe that,” said God. "You only got ninety-three souls last year. A record low. I think there is good in the world. And it is spreading and growing.”

“Okay, prove it. What is good in the world?”

God thought for a moment. But as God opened his mouth to speak, Satan interrupted.

“I’ll tell you what’s evil in the world, God. Racism. Intolerance. Exclusion. Gluttony. Greed. Anger. Anarchy. And they are all boiling up at the same time — right now. Evil is taking hold in unexpected areas. Look at opioids — people who would never, in a million years, take drugs, blow up their whole world, because their doctors prescribed them oxi. Boom, addicted. Life as they know it, over. Families destroyed. Society at odds. Doctors, who are suppose to do no harm, prescribing this drug, and millions of people are destroyed. That's evil, God. Parents killing their own children, because they can — evil. Ghislaine Maxwell — evil. Vehicles plowing into pedestrians just to kill — evil. There is so much evil in the world, more than you know. And it’s all because of me. I made the evil happen." Satan pointed at his won chest, and gave God another grim. "Face it old man, you’re losing the battle. “

God looked at Satan calmly. “I don’t believe that. And I don’t believe you do, either, Satan. If you did, you wouldn’t be here, explaining yourself.”

Henry walked towards the table, carrying their dinners. He placed the dishes before them. He turned to looked God.

“It was the pain that I caused my wife. I deserved to die because of the pain I caused her.” He walked away.

God, his aura glowing, smiled at Satan. “Contrition and self-actualization are good. They belong in the world.”

Satan didn’t look convinced.

“Ebola.”

“The Congo discharged its last patient last week.”

“Harvey Weinstein.”

“In jail, and staying there.”

“Tiger King.”

“Also in jail.”

“Not the person,” said Satan. “The TV show.”

“Oh,” said God pondering. “Well, it’s over and there isn’t a season two, so there’s that.”

“Social unrest,” said Satan.

“BLM, and the movements around the world brought people together to foster positive social change.”

Satan got up, pacing, his forked tail waving like an an angry cat’s.

“God, this was the worst year, ever! Worse than the Black Death, worse than World War I and World War II combined. Why are you so optimistic?”

“Satan, when are you going to learn? Regardless of what you throw at humans, they are resilient. It’s never really about what happens. It’s about how people respond to it. And 2020 was the ultimate test.”

Satan sat back down. “There is evil in the world, and it is man!” he insisted.

“Maybe, but for every truly evil person, there are many, many more good people.”

“School shootings!” said Satan. “Find the good in that, God. I dare you!”

God stopped, and considered. “I believe you are right, Satan. Unless the deaths of children are prioritized, then it is evil.”

“Ha!”

“I’m not saying that there isn’t evil in the world. But tell me why you think there is evil everywhere.”

“Because I put it there!” He slammed his hand hard on the table, making the dishes jump. “There was not supposed to be an upside to COVID-19. It was supposed to be devastating, and ultimately cause people to lose their faith because of the absolute hopelessness of the disease. Instead we had Dr. Fauci. Dr. Fauci! What the hell, God? An eighty-year-old immunologist derails the whole thing! I was golden!. The perfect set up. I had Trump in the White House, and a world-wide epidemic, mass confusion and hysteria — incompetence was king. Fauci wasn’t even on my radar! Then he strolls in and settles everyone down, being reasonable and calm. Someone's grandpa screwed up my grand plan!"

God smiled. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, Satan.” 

Satan snarled, and God got a whiff of brimstone. His hand moved towards his water glass.

“And the vaccine. It was supposed to take five years, minimum, to develop. Do you know how much chaos can happen in five years? But no, it was done in record time. Operation Warp Speed. What. The. Hell.  Did you do that?” Satan leaned across the table, pointing his finger into God’s face. Instead of being intimidated, God just sat there, unflinching.

“Eat your dinner, Satan. I know how you hate anything cold.”

Satan sat back and took a steadying breath, and picked up his fork. They ate in silence.

When they were done, Ray collected their empty plates. Henry stepped up to the table. He seemed to have regained some of his confidence.

“Would you gentlemen care for a dessert?

“I want all of the Devil’s Food Cake, every single piece.” said Satan.

"Very good." Henry turned to God. "And you Sir?"

“And I would like to have a single piece of Angel Food Cake, of course. And another glass of oat milk.”

“Thank you. And, sir” Henry said turning to Satan. “Would you care for another Satan’s Whiskers on ice?”

Satan shook his head, and dismissed Henry with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t understand, God. I sent the COVID variables. Some pretty nasty stuff. The Delta variant was looking so good. I made sure it spread fast, and I dropped it all over the world. But people are surviving, thriving, even. Why?”

“Because people have faith — faith in science, faith in their governments, and faith in Me.”

Henry brought their desserts, and God’s milk. Satan picked up one of the pieces of cake, and jammed it into his mouth. God stared.

“Stress eating,” said Satan, around the food in his mouth.

When they were finished, both stood to leave.

“Thank you for another interesting evening, Satan. I enjoyed it.”

“Well, God, this was not what I expected. I expected to be able to gloat because the world had run amok and there would be mayhem and debauchery rampant in every corner. But it didn't happen.” He sighed, crestfallen. “But I did have January 6^th.”

“Go to hell, Satan. That’s where you belong.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Until next year,” said God.