Marketing

Two cultists fainted from shock and one wet himself when Satan appeared in the circle (even though his requested visit was the entire reason they'd bothered to draw it); this amused him to no end. He summoned one of his lesser thrones (fewer skulls, no rubies in the eye sockets) and a bottle of Chateau Margaux 1978; The Devil was in high spirits and feeling chatty. "Dad and I get along famously, actually," he shared with a chuckle. "The old codger is a marketing GENIUS!" They stared, open-mouthed, hanging on his every word. "I mean, yes, it's a shit gig - being the betrayer, the rejected, the kicked out, but it works, am I right? We had I don't know HOW MANY zillions of meetings, hammering out the details ... coming in at the right level of fire and brimstone to both terrify and inspire. SO many other schemes and dreams depended on the seamless launch of this deal. In the end, it was irresistible. Yes, I'm always up to my fiery eyeballs in bags (both slime and douche), freaks of a murderous nature, and the carnally challenged (ridiculous whores scrambling after fortune, fame, and power in general), BUT evil is seductive, right? That's why you're here." One of them, an average looking blonde, nodded with a glint in her eye, so he smiled at her. "I will be pretty and sexy and scary forever; I am the world's dream date." Satan sipped and giggled, knowing that he would have to kill them all ... well, maybe everyone but that blonde. She had promise.