As many of you know from previous blogs, I’ve been looking for a new nickname. Beelzebub is too cute; Prince of Darkness is such a downer. Well, today I was experimenting with anagrams, and I discovered that if you rearrange the letters in “Mephistopheles,” you get “Peepholes Smith.” This is incredible. I am officially declaring all across the Kingdom of Hell that if you would like to address your dark lord in a more informal manner, you may call me Peepholes Smith.
I’d like to take a moment to clear the air about the Grateful Dead’s classic song “Friend of the Devil,” in which the lead singer declares that “A friend of the devil is a friend of mine.” This is a blatant lie. I have zero friends in common with Jerry Garcia or any of the other members of the Dead. I even checked on Disgracebook (Hell’s Facebook) just to make sure. Furthermore, I heard through the afterlife grapevine that when Jerry Garcia died, he wasn’t very Grateful at all. Apparently he bitched and moaned about how good sticky icky doesn’t grow on clouds.
Boots has been pooping fire-nuggets for the past three days, so I finally broke down and took him to the Hell Vet this morning. Apparently, he snuck up to Earth and got his paws on a pure soul. Now, Boots has a troublesome gastrointestinal tract, and he KNOWS that if he eats anything but the souls of rapists, Loki will inhabit his puckered little cat anus and set it ablaze. The vet has him on an IV drip of pure liquid hate, so he should be better soon. Boots drives me crazy, but I don’t know what I’d do without the little bugger – I’d probably let Stalin go back up to Earth for a few days and watch the results just to distract me from the loneliness.
I’ve been getting into science lately, and maybe this is going to sound retarded, but I wonder if the relationship between Christ and Antichrist (me) is the same as the relationship between matter and antimatter. Because if it is, I should never, EVER meet Christ – if we touched, it would lead to the annihilation of both of us, giving rise to high-energy photons or gamma rays. Or maybe if me and Christ were in a Circular Christ Accelerator, we could deliberately generate Holy X-Rays. I know what you’re thinking: Satan, you need to get laid, and fast. Well, you’re right – but at least call me Peepholes Smith.