Shopping with Satan

[WP] Satan is real and he has come from the Underworld to spread hate and evil, as a 14 year old mall goth who relies on his parents still.

---

Satan, Lord of All that is Dark and Awful, Captor of Souls, Torturer Extraordinaire, came to Earth on a day that reeked of fresh pine and peppermint. Lamentable smells that Satan attempted to purge from his nose, spraying a string of snot that stuck on the front of his black shirt in such a way that reminded him of a cobweb. The smell was only outdone by the screech of children running from house to house, bellowing songs at homeowners that lauded the exploits of his greatest enemy, the anti-Satan. It was two days before Christmas, and of all forms Satan could have possibly slid into, a fourteen-year old boy being driven to the mall by his parents to shop for gifts, was the last one he wanted.

“Brimstone and hellfire to the both of you. Let me out of the car so that I may wreak havoc unto your world,” Satan said.

“Is that from a Black Sabbath song? How does it go again?” Satan’s presumptive father began to make percussive noises with his mouth, while his mustache bounced along with the rhythm.

“It’ll be a Black Sabbath for the two of you if you don’t let me out right now!” Satan said. He tried to open the car door, but as soon as he touched the handle, his presumptive Mother began to scream.

“Dammit Ricky! Touch the door again, and that’ll be it! I. Will. End. You,” she said.

Whether it was her tone that was on-par with the mightiest general of his demon army, or her eyes, which were filled with the same desperate longing for something else of the souls that fought against him before he tossed them into a pit of eternal fire and pain, he removed his hand from the door and laid it in his lap. It was at that point, he decided that he liked his mother very much.

Satan’s father fought tooth-and-nail with an elderly woman in a powder-blue Buick for their parking spot nearly a mile away from the mall. The woman slammed on her gas, and drove off after Satan gave her a knowing look that plainly said ‘I’ll be seeing you soon.’

“What’s her problem?” Satan’s father asked.

“Mortality,” Satan said.

“Zip it mister,” Satan’s mother said, “Carl let’s go. I want to get out of here before nine this time.”

Satan sank into his seat, and eyed the door handle, greatly aware of the anger it brought his mother whenever he touched it.

“Come on Ricky, let’s go. Now!” she said.

Satan fumbled with the handle, and spilled out of the door onto the asphalt. It bit at him with teeth as cold as icicles. His mortal body began to shiver, and plumes of white breath escaped from his mouth. He wrapped his arms around himself, and began to wish that he brought a little hellfire with him. He cursed Beelzebub for recommending otherwise, stating that it would draw too much suspicion if he really wanted to destroy humanity by eroding at their core moral values, he said in the standup meeting before Satan’s trip topside.

“If you wore clothes like a normal person, then maybe you wouldn’t be so cold all the time. It’s winter, Ricky. Put on a sweater for god’s sake,” his mother said.

“Damn you woman.”

“YOU WANNA GO RICKY?”

“Mary, it’s just a phase. Let’s go,” Satan’s father grabbed her hand, and pulled her towards the mall. He struggled for about six steps while Satan’s mother glared at Satan, before she relented and walked towards the snow-covered building. Satan shivered the entire walk and nearly slipped no less than six times on black ice, but he eventually made it to the mall.

It was glorious.

Satan felt a little overwhelmed, but spread his arms to embrace the sin oozing from every brick of the building.

Signs exclaiming savings of 70-80% off enticed people overcome by their greed into swinging fists wrapped around coupons and cash towards cashiers. Satan saw one of the cashiers take cover as one patron at a soap store hurl a basket full of soap bottles at a woman trying to take the last limited edition, celebrity-designed brick of soap from its display.

In another store, there were people cramming their faces full of free samples. Satan listened close and heard sighs and moans of ecstasy as each patron shoved another piece of pecan fudge into their mouths.

A soap bottle slid past Satan, and he smiled at the sight of the soap store breaking into a full-blown brawl.

Satan marveled how each store, and even the small demi-stores selling outdated phone cases and promises of Caribbean vacations, worshipped sin in their own way.

He saw what he needed. He left Ricky to the machinations of his parents, making note to offer his mother a position as a general in his demon army, or at the very least, head of Demon Resources, when she made her way down. He didn’t need to damn Earth and its people: they had already done it to themselves. Satan was fine with waiting for the rest of humanity to come to him, he needed time for his next great project in Hell. A mall of infinite floors, each with their own accompaniment of torture devices, and sinful delights (he needed some good with the bad, otherwise the bad would lose its poignancy). And, of course, the first floor would be dedicated to being an infinite expanse of soap and celebrity-promoted products, all of which be limited edition.