The Fucking Talk- Part 3 of 3

There is an asshole in every father and there is an asshole in every son, to think of it there is an asshole in everyone. The walk forward was something that I had always thought of when I was away from this place. There is nothing like the screams of the tormented getting boiled alive in their own blood to put you in a good mood. The path was slick with guts, gore, grime and unknown body parts of both men and beasts, but my feet remembered the old rhythm and the art of walking on such shit. 

And on I walked towards the elevator.

I placed my finger on the single button to call the elevator, the pin prick brought back memories from the years I had spent here. A drop of blood stained the button that hungrily sucked it up, becoming a neutral color again. The elevator door opened with a jarring ping. Bright white light poured out from the elevator and I got inside, the doors closed, then opened an instant later and I stepped out in dad's study.

He sat in his swivel chair with his back towards me, looking out of the window at a flock of angels who received the newcomers into Heaven and showed them around. A group of Cherubs flew in circles playing cherubic games with each other, somewhere slow music played, a stream gurgled and birds chirped in wholesome trees.

"This is one fucked up place, son." he said to me without looking in my direction. He swiveled his chair to face me and I saw the lines in his face had deepened, and an extra chin was subtly making its presence felt on his neck. He wore a track suit of a boring color; it was his day off. He didn't offer me a seat so I kept standing.

"Why did you call?" I asked.

"I have done some fucked up things in my time here and one of my biggest mistakes was throwing you down. No hard feelings, but you have to look at things from a PR point of view when you are creating universes and someone decided to fuck with you." he said, seemingly lost in a world of his own. 

I waited for him to answer my question.

"And then, you walked away from your responsibilities handed out to you." he looked at me with a dejected look in his eyes. 

"I was sick of handling Hell for so long, so I took a permanent early leave."

"I want you to take back control of that place, I cannot manage hell and heaven both at the same time."

"Fuck you very much for calling me but I quit that shit once and for all."

The next few seconds were a blur of anger, hate and madness that streamed from the old man's existence onto me and then I fell again, for nine days and nine nights. I guess, you can only get that far by saying 'Fuck You' to God.

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The intro to this story will always remain somewhere in the book of best lines written on this blog. So, there, the final part. If the complete story doesn't make sense then relax, it doesn't make sense to me either, and I wrote this damn thing. The basic idea here is that what if Lucifer was the son of god.There is a dog crying outside here like someone shoved a stick up its ass, and I can hear the whistle of a train somewhere in the background. Time to set this baby to sail. More madness coming your way soon.