you wouldn't want to stand out, now would you?
i told them i was coming up on a routine possession. i don't have much time. if they figure out my ruse, they'll come looking for me.
because you two fucks are inches away from getting yourselves caught. going around killing people, about to uncase your wings.  don't you have any idea what's going on?
are you so clueless as to think you can just waltz back into heaven?
you're pissing people off, that's why! word on the grapevine is that god's pissed off at your presumption, and i know lucifer's pissed because you assholes might just succeed where he's failed so many times, making him look bad.
they're going to try'. that's why you have to travel incognito - tone down your behavior, stay off their respective radars. go about this thing more subtly. quit killing people - that's high profile. and for god's sake, don't uncase your wings until you have to transubstantiate. because the minute you let them flap, legions of thrones and hordes of demons will fight each other over who gets to kill you first.
that's the kind of shit i'm talking about!
believe it, boys. they've even got the last scion looking for you.
this is big. i'm telling you. your re-entry is a thorn in a lot of sides, and they'll stop at nothing to prevent it.
because i want to see you go back. you were both given a raw deal; almost as raw as mine. if you make it back, then i figure there's hope for me.
would you expect anything less from a demon. i have to get back to the pit, before they get suspicious.
give you a hint: they've been playing 'mrs. doubtfire' continuously for two years now.
and just to insure that, we're all going to sit tight, right here, until the two idiots pass through that arch.
the muse. just in time to join us for a drink.
nothingness. and that's where i'm returning to in approximately.
come on barkeep - just one drink for the road. then i'm gone.
gimme a holy bartender.
get it?
i'm actually counting on it. and if my calculations are correct, the pawns are moving in to check-mate as we speak.
tell them, serendipity. tell them how i was slighted by the almighty.
ever the apple polisher. i'd hoped that when you left paradise, you did it finally because you couldn't tolerate the injustice that was visited upon your own brother.
to compliment one another. two spirits of pure inspiration.
yes. what. lucifer got restless and started his little war for the throne. heaven became divided into two factions - the faithful and the renegades. the ethereal planes were chaotic with battle, angel against angel. and when it was all over, cod cast the rebels into perdition.
i was an artist! i was inspiration! a muse has no place in battle! our job is to create - not destroy!
don't tell me that you never questioned the judgement, serendipity; that you don't think the almighty acted too rashly?
well?
after the first million years, revenge was the farthest thing from my mind. self-preservation became the only necessity.
escape. escape from hell became my all-consuming reason. so i studied the religions and waited for my opportunity to present itself; which flnallv did. in the form of the plenary indulgence and while i couldn't exercise it myself. i knew the perfect vessels through which i could free myself from torment.
after that, it was a simple matter or waiting for a church to celebrate their centennial, and when that finally happened, applying some of the old inspiration tactics - bv sending the pair an article laced with ideas. an incantation i picked up in the pit kept them cloaked and off heaven's radars, and aside from the triplets and the gologothan, no soul in hell had a clue as to what was going on.
oh no. i've seen way to many bond movies to know that you never reveal all the details of your plan - no matter how close you may think you are to success. suffice it to say, the catholics have been even more helpful in insuring my success than by just supplying the clean-slate archwav.
evil is an abstract; it's a human construct. but true to his irresponsible nature. man won t own up to being the engineer of evil, so he blames his dark deeds on my ilk. but his selfishness is limitless, and it's not enough for him to shadow his own existence. he turned hell into a suffering pitt - fire, wailing, darkness - the kind of place anyone would do anything to get out of. and why? because he lacks the ability to forgive himself. it is beyond your abilities to simply make recompense for and regret the sins you commit. no - you choose rather to create a psychodrama and dwell in a foundless belief that god could never forgive your 'grievous offenses'. so you bring your guilt and inner-decay with you to hell - where the horrid imaginations of so many gluttons-for-punishment give birth to the sickness that has infected the abyss since the first one of your kind arrived there, begging to be 'punished'. and in doing so, they've transformed the cold and solitude to pain and misery. i've spent eons privy to the flames, inhaling the decay, hearing the wail of the damned. i know what effect such horrors have on the delicate psyche of an angelic beihg.
i'd rather not exist than go back to that. and if everyone has to go down with me, so be it.
now, now, now. things are getting too tense in here. what say we watch a little t.v.
i was thinking more along the lines of current events.
now what was that all about?
don't you know anything?